Weird Fucking Dreams

I think New Zealand is screwing with my head; something is. My weird dreams have continued, depsite the fact I thought a holiday might have sent them away. Someone once told me they could be down to stress but the only thing I have to stress about is if I get up at ten or eleven AM.

It starts with me in New Zealand, enjoying my holiday as you do. I turn up at a garage to refill the van only for the check out lady to realise I'm english and start having a weird sobbing fit at me. Eventually she explains for some reason practically all of Britain just got blew up into smitheereens by nuclear bombs (I'm blaming this forum, STALKER and Fallout for this line of the dream).

Panicking me and Rowan hook up with some British armed forces and other volunteers to go to the UK and see what survivors we can find. We find very few people, I get to see my house as a smoking ruin and the fields on fire (just like Lind's post) and we all decide it's best to fuck off.

Except no one knows where to go; former British colonies like New Zealand and Australia decide to let a lot of people in but are beginning to struggle with the number of survivors, Europe won't take anyone as they deal with a mass of fallout drifting over so I'm left with two choices: Canada or the USA. For reasons of friendship I choose the USA whilst Rowan goes to Canada (I blame this part of the dream on a drunk discussion me and Rowan had once).

Arriving in America I realise I've made a huge mistake: The US government is offering citizenship to all British citizens if they sign a work contract which basically means they get paid fuck all ($2.50 an hour). Lots of people sign up not realising the damage they will cause themselves whilst the US government cackles evilly at the cheap labour they now have and Goldman Sachs laughs evilly as all the corporations they own benefit from this cheap labour (this I blame on paranoid but eerily true feeling discussions Rowan and me have held about the US, it's government and Goldman Fucking Sachs controlling the world).

I find myself working at some sort of shit power station where working conditions are terrible, on top of that the obligatory accomodation is shit but costs $2.40 per hour of working shift. The final few pennies are spent by everyone on cheap shit beer to forget what has happened to them. The BBC visit us, just about surviving as a small news corp. I show them around and they witness the death of a british worker who falls in a vat of Aluminium (I blame this segment on the powerstation we visited the other day and how they told us how much electricity it takes to do shit with aluminium).

Now a few members of the public who still go on the BBC website daily read about our plight and common support increases for us (because we're white mostly and speak english, so most people think we're just like them). I get cocky and start a union, demanding better pay, basic human rights and a load of other things. The workers begin to unite and our support outside the factories grow, despite a push by the news corps to try and turn the public against us. It nearly becomes a full blown Socialist revolution (this I blame on listening to the Mark Steele lectures on Karl Marx and just general interest in unions.)

My paranoid mind kicks in and the US government/Goldman Sachs do exactly as expected: Every great supporter or union leader is either killed, blackmailed into shutting up or bribed. I continue to make noise so I'm taken into a dark room where some thugs kick the shit out of me, but because in dream world I'm mega brave (whereas in the realworld I'm the definition of absolute cowardice) I still refuse to stop. So they pull Virama in the room and threaten to shoot her if I don't shut up.

So I leave the room and hold a press conference: I explain my bruises on a non existant mugging whilst saying the corporations have listened to our plight and will make some changes. The revolution dies almost as quickly as it started and I go back to the shitty job. At this point enter supporting act number one, Nitwit, who uses her degree to get a relatively high placement in the power station. Within a few days she has found me and helped me smuggle myself out of the power station.

Now I'm on the run and somehow find myself at the Star Wars convention (I blame jealousy for this one) and find myself pushing myself onto your table (from the picture Linds showed me) where I discover it's actually you lot minus Havoc) and I get you to all hide me (cause you're so lovely obviously, or some such). When that is over Linds smuggles me up to Washington DC to, I think, kill the President. I realise this won't make things better so instead I find myself in a hostage situation where another pissed off British person has taken me and a shit load of other people hostage on a bus with a bomb. I manage to explain to him that if he triggers the bomb he kills innocdent people and just creates more hate against the British furthering the Government's cause. He agrees and lets me and the hostages go before blowing himself up.

I then hitchhike to middle america, determined to forget everything and just go live in the quiet. At which point I turn up and discover those pesky bastards have taken Virama to stop me causing a fuss (now I'm getting mega paranoid).

So I head South and somehow meet up with Havoc, who basically leads a Che Gueverra style of rebels, whom I join sick to the teeth of just talking and it not working (I blame this on the fact that Havoc's avatar is basically Che Gueverra). We blow some shit up, never kill any innocents but are massive pains in the arse for Goldman Sachs. Then we get surrounded but everyone but me dies, Havoc's hands are cut off to prove he is Havoc (that I blame on the Mark Steele lectures on Che Gueverra).

At which point I am once again in a dark room with some bald, glasses wearing bona fide evil dude. It's the head of Goldman Sachs! He does a evil little smile, points a gun at my head, does a cliched line about this being the last time I'm a pain in his side and he shoots me. I wake up.

So I went to the loo, took a quick sip of the whiskey we still haven't drunk and went back to sleep. Which leaves me asking what the crap is going on inside my head....

So if Britain does enter a nuclear apocalypse whilst I'm still in NZ do me a favour and be prepared would you? I feel like a paranoid nut.

Alright I will promptly apply for a job at a power station although I hate thermodynamics and power cycles with a passion. And Havoc, you should likely start stockpiling weapons for your revolution.

In all seriousness though if there was a nuclear apocalypse and we suddenly had a huge number of immigrants pouring into the US, with our current high unemployment rates we wouldn't be handing out jobs even for a measly $2.50 an hour. So you likely won't be stuck in a power plant, Frosty, you'd probably just wind up as a homeless bum. That should be comforting.

Nothing is comforting in this current state of paranoia. Nothing.

Haha, well this will be even more comforting. I had a friend trying to convince me to go tour power plants with them in the spring. Apparently the nuclear engineering club is trying to get more people interested in the energy field.

epic dream.



And hands? I don't need no god damn hands

*fiddles with gun using stumps*

Course its terrible going to the bathroom now.