I took a nap today after going to cheer on my friend JB at the Chicago Marathon. I had a scary-exciting dream. It made me wonder why nightmares aren't more welcome. Granted, you need to be aware that they are only dreams in order to enjoy them. However, once you do, they really can be like video games in your participation in the chase and fight with the baddies.
My scary-exciting dream:
Three of us are sitting, being held captive after hours at a Marshall Field's-like department store. We are sitting in a circular clearing area with office furniture all around us. By the wall, in a high backed leather executive chair, sits the captor, a tall guy in a navy blue pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt, red power tie...with a goat's head. For some reason, we are all armed and unbound, despite our captivity. (Don't ask me -- it was a dream!) I'm sitting with my back facing the wall, looking out into the open floorplan with the stairs-where-there-would-be-escalators about twenty feet ahead.
I look to my right and make eye contact with one of the others who is being held captive. Somehow he and I communicate that I will distract The Goat so that the guy can attack The Goat. I start (playfully?) shooting at the third captive's feet with my machine gun. As The Goat yells at me, the other guy leaps to his feet and starts shooting at The Goat with his machine gun.
We all leap to our feet in order to scatter to make it more difficult to recapture us. As I run towards the stairs, The Goat's henchmen arrive from the left, one of them pushing the other in a carpet-lined shopping cart and both of them shooting at the three of us. (Seriously -- it was a dream.) As I run with the henchmen chasing me, I turn around and let off spurts of shots in The Goat's and their directions. I get this sense of accomplishment whenever my aim hits them.
As I scramble down the stairs (Seventh floor was heavy appliances (dishwashers, etc.), sixth floor was furniture (sofas, chaises, etc.), and fifth floor was model rooms (in the IKEA style).), I start leaping the last 7 steps...then the last 10 steps...then the whole staircase in a stomach-dropping feat of only-in-dreamdomness. Upon reaching the fifth floor, I hunt for a hiding place to watch for the bad guys. I consider and reject hiding behind country vine-covered curtains in a little IKEA-like sitting room. Running again, I pass by my uncle and parents, who tell me my brother left (and would be returning). I get scared for him, and tell them to warn him and hide themselves. I hadn't found a hiding place by the time I woke up.