The ninja and I were at this library. I was reading something and he went to look for another book, but he returned with this girl—she seemed rather real, and her face had high detail—named Florence. She seemed to think he’d done something horrible by being around me, as if he’d betrayed someone else, someone holy to Florence.
I felt like I had to somehow impress her so that she wouldn’t think horribly of me, not to please me, but for the ninja so they would leave us alone. Eventually she left, and I went walking about the library. I ran into Dr. Ventre, and we had this weird conversation. He said I hadn’t sent in 239 dollars for something—and I said I needed to talk to Dr. Matherne about getting into the MFA program. He seemed somehow disappointed and not really listening, repeating himself. I had a few moments like “what the hell is he talking about?” but the dream kept me from seeing the illogical.
Then we went to the parking lot. The ninja’s bumper was on the ground. This was the first sign. The ninja picked up his windshield, with a big ol hole in the middle, cracks spider-webbing across the whole thing, and set it back on the front of his vehicle. The back window was also busted and bent, and the doors were wrenched and dented, ripped and wrecked. It was horrible, because what was the Ninja going to do now?
Well, we tried to drive back, but we ended up on i-75 downstate, and it was hard to really see the road.
And then I found the person who had wrecked the ninja’s car. It was this guy, this strange, not really alive looking person who acted more like a robot than anything, but I became incredibly violent and returned the favor to his body. I am not sure if he died or not.
Then, I woke up and was incredibly glad that it had just been a dream. It was a convincing coherent sort of thing, but when I went back to sleep, I was back on the defense.
I was at my aunt’s, and I got two calls on my cell phone about packages that my aunt needed to pay 5 dollars and 15 dollars respectively to receive. As far as I knew, she hadn’t ordered these things, but I was kinda pissed that people were sending her things and insisting that she needed to pay to receive them.
Some guy came to drop one off—he looked like a Michael McDonald/Kenny Rogers/Silver Fox hybrid, and he had this white Tracker looking vehicle. I rather wanted him to leave, but he came up and I told him no one was there, even though they were all in the garage. He didn’t seem to believe me and got confrontational and in my face. I hate that shit.
Anyway, I got him to leave, he was pulling out of the driveway, and my cousins came out of the garage, really loud and I was like GET IN THE GARAGE because I knew the guy was going to come after us sooner or later. Then I went into the garage with everyone and tried to get the phone numbers for my aunt to call.
My phone asked me for my birthdate, which I thought was weird, and the message started to play but the phone-voice started to repeat what other people were saying around me. I was like “HEY! Quiet down!” and the phone said “HEY! Is not a valid command.” I went to the front porch because my older cousin was being extremely loud and complaining about the noise. She went with me, and I started to write down the numbers.
I woke up then because, well my alarm went off. Bloody hell.
Strange, stress-inducing dreams.
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