Man. My dream life has gone more-or-less back to normal since I came off the Effexor early this year*–no more hyper-detailed settings and a cut back on the labyrinthical plots–but last night’s offering had some real doozies.

The high point of weirdness was where I found myself in a cadre of people being mind-controlled by an elderly blonde woman in a wheelchair, who, at the height of the evening, decided to run us all lemming-like into a boiling hot spring. Realizing that this would not be a happy thing, I ran away, attempting to keep my mind completely blank so that she couldn’t track me. (This was much easier in the dream than it ever is when, say, I take a stab at meditation. Go figure.) I decided to run away to a cabin in the woods, where my husband (??? Nobody I’ve ever met…) was hopefully going to be, and where this psycho blonde wouldn’t find me. Along the way I stopped and bought iron rations in a diner run by the Boy Scouts made out of an old bus, which has no bearing on anything, but was sort of amusing.

Eventually I reached the cabin in question, passing a few notable sights, like a giant temple made out of obsidian, carved in the shape of a really alarming looking rooster’s head** and reached the cabin! Yay! I told the group of survivalists/my last hope what was going on, and borrowed one of their guns.

The legion of mind-controlled weirdos showed up, led by crazy blonde chick, in a scene vaguely reminiscent of that bit in Resident Evil 4 where the villagers are swarming the house and no matter how many you shoot, they keep on coming. (Fortunately the ones in my dream had not mastered the arcane Ladder Technology, allowing them to reach the second floor.)  Realizing that I would be unable to escape from having my brain taken over, I said “Right, then!” flipped the gun around, and proceeded to shoot myself in the head.

Well, that’s one solution…I guess…

I died, obviously, but like most dreams where I die–this happens occasionally, although this may be the first where I committed suicide–I merely switched viewpoints to somebody else, and found myself back in crazy chick’s mind-controlled army. (Man, talk about ineffective…) Spent the rest of the dream convincing people I’d known before getting mind-controlled that they really would prefer death to also being mind-controlled, in between wandering around a random city that resembled the grottier bits of St. Paul, looking desperately for a bus stop.

Also, there was a Dalek in there somewhere.

Huh.

*The fact that we are now at a point where we can use the phrase “early this year” fills me with dread. Where did this year GO!?
** Yes, yes, make the obligatory cock jokes, I won’t stop you.