I dreamed of that I, a friend, his wife (another friend) and a couple of others had created something technological and interesting, a game that tapped into sociological, psychological archetypes to immerse the player in a truly augmented reality. Not just vr, but an overlay to consciousness. We were in talks with a major investor who had decided to show us a good time. They took us to a concert at a musical conservatory but this one had a dance floor made of parquet in the shape of a nautilus shell. The steps down were steep so I was holding my hand to steady the ladies as they stepped down the extremely narrow staircases. One in particular, touched my hand and a thrill of electricity passed between us. We bantered and on seeing the dance floor, I asked her to dance. Though, at best, my dancing could be considered enthusiastic. The party started to bore so we in the company donned our AR glasses and I booted up a music program where we could interact with a bunch of different musicians. Talk or request songs. Hear stories from them. It was something new I’d put together for us.
I remember us talking about it and to artists like George Clinton and others. Then I felt a sense of profound loss and I woke up.

I dreamed that I was sitting in my room doing laundry by hand, not sure why. While I was doing that a drunk drove his Oldsmobile cutlass through the window or my sisters bedroom. She was unfazed and kept watching TV. The guy tried to climb out the window of his car.

I handcuffed him and waited for the police. Then his brother showed up and I fought him to a standstill, that’s a little blurry but I think I jabbed him with a bamboo Bo.

We ended up talking over drinks at a bar 200 feet from my house through an stone archway that opens into a kind of open air mall. We have a few drinks and he is trying to help his brother out of a sense of duty, which I totally get. Plus, it turns out he works in the same circles I do.

He Works for the government. I do Work for a quasi-goverment intelligence agency. Work is a euphemism for paid assassin. My family, in whose house I was, doesn’t know what I do.

I meet a woman at the bar, while we’re drinking. Turns out I knew her in high school, but we didn’t hang. We have sex almost immediately. I remember it being good and urgent, full of need and desire.

We start dating. Meanwhile, I engineer the release of my colleague’s brother, though to my family, it looks like he was arrested. Me and the young lady, slip deeper into love. At a party, after a successful mission, I’m riding the high of a well executed job and invite my friend/boss to review the after action report. Both the execution and the results of the action will be especially good for us, I feel like I’ve reached a new level.

My love comes by to celebrate with me, we slow dance, but end up stopping in the middle of the dance floor. We kiss, soft with just enough pressure. The need for each other is still there but backed now with the firmer emotional background. She says, “That’s the first time we’ve kissed where I felt as a part of something greater.” I look deep into her eyes and say “I love you.” I wait a beat then say, with a grin “and I think we should get out of here, I’m pretty sure that dancing implies movement, not that standing here holding you isn’t great.”

She takes my hand and I follow her up some stairs and into a market, the same market from before. Time skips forward, she knows I do something secretive and that I have money, we are getting a drink, fireball whiskey, a couple of shots.

She is buying something at a booth and I’m waiting to order an ice cream sandwich. Ice Cream and booze is always good. While I’m waiting, the counter clerk calls out my name, someone else orders the same thing I would. The clerk delivers it to me, and the someone, a handsome man, he asks can he share.

He is clearly flirting and I raise my voice and ask my girlfriend if we want a third to join us, half joking, she says no and I smirk and tell him, better luck next time. I go to my girlfriend and we walk hand in hand to my loft.

She runs in through the wrong door, into my neighbors place, it is light and airy, full of plants and simple pleasures. She needed the sink, I apologize to them but they are just concerned about her, they are nice people.

She recovers and we go up to my apartment. The decor is modern, all metal surface and soft eggshell white.

Someone is waiting for us, tries to kill me, I fight and kill him instead, with a garrote that is in my collar lining. She is in shock.

I get us out of there to a safe house with a organized crime outfit that owes me some favors. She refuses to talk to me, she feels betrayed, but I need to make sure we’re safe. I’m talking with my contact about who could have placed the hit, then I wake.

I had a dream that I was the third person in a poly relationship. I was living in their house in Flagstaff. She was intelligent and cute. She loved the little things, strawberries with cream. He was a creative type, he came from money and was a little awkward with having a third in his bed but I never felt unwelcome.

My weight wasn’t an issue and they liked that I liked the darker things. We didn’t just have sex. We had long rambling conversations and genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. I was on a extended vacation and trying to figure out how to go to work and stay with them.

They had lived here their whole lives and while they took trips and lived other places they always came back here.

The dream transitioned into a harvest festival, she was a baker and made some pies, he spoke some memories that had people laughing and crying. They were pillars of their community and I didn’t want to embarrass them so I sat apart, but she insisted I sit with them. I did and received a strong kiss from each. There was some muttering but they held high.

I’ve never felt so accepted or loved. After the party broke up I went exploring, this was Flagstaff and not Flagstaff, the University was shutdown for years and it was traditional to go exploring in there after festival.

I went and quickly got lost. But I never despaired. I knew that I had a reason to keep going. I had to get back to them. I can’t remember why I left. Some foolish whim. Some towns folk played a prank where they dressed like monsters and hunted the people in the place. It was scary but it was a game and no one got hurt.

I hooked up with a larger group and led them to safety out of the buildings. They said it was the first time so many people weren’t turned into zombies by the end of the night. And I went home, triumphant, and into their arms. Then I woke.