4th Anniversary Special!

Today is the fourth anniversary of Dreams of a Randy Git-Fiend's existence. I neglected posting the last three anniversaries, so this one's been a long time coming, Luckily, I have a nice, full dream to report.

* * *

I struck up a conversation with a girl I had just met. She wore blue jeans and a pale gray t-shirt with dark red lettering on the front. She was quite lovely, a couple years older than I, with long waist-length black/dark brown hair.

(She looked quite a bit like Crystal Gayle, though her eyebrows weren't quite so arched and her eyes a less intense blue.)

She was new in town, and she inquired about good colleges/universities in the area. Sheepish, I admitted I had no post-secondary education and so wasn't the most knowledgeable on the subject. She smiled and told me I was cute. I was touched, as no girl has ever complimented me on my looks.

At some point in the dream, I was either playing Star Fox on the SNES or was physically in the game. Either way, a variant of the "Out of this Dimension" stage was involved.

At another point in the dream, I was in the auditorium of a local college/university. Seated on the stage were two girls. One was a very tall, broad-shouldered, quite attractive redhead who wore her hair up. Beside her was a shorter, more slender blonde who wore her frizzy hair loose. I recognized both as students from my high school, both in grades higher than mine, who I was familiar with but had never actually been introduced to.

I was walking home when I came across a pack of apes and ape/dog hybrids who were smuggling loaves of bread. They attacked, latching onto and biting me.

 (The bites were painful, though they didn't manage to break the skin.)

As I lurched through the doorstep of my home, I found my parents entertaining guests, who just so happened to be the masters of these animals. Using a combination of whistles and sign language, they tried calling them off, to not effect. I soon freed myself of the brutes. One of the guests apologized for the creatures' behaviour. In a foul mood, I basically told him to go fuck himself.

As this was going down, Jordan Peterson was present, holding a lecture in my home. Still surly, of no mind to passively absorb his reactionary tripe, I essentially called him a double-talkin' jive motherfucker. Insulted, he left.

The Abandoned Insurrection/Ride with a Pederast/Throwdown with the Trio from Tartarus

I led (or at least participated in) an insurrection which took place on the grounds of the Okanagan College Kelowna campus in the dead of winter.

(I suppose them's the breaks when your math instructor fails to communicate with you in regards to continuing your tutelage under him in spite of repeated efforts on your part to get in touch.)

Then I found myself away from the college and the insurrection, waiting for a bus in the cold, wet snow. I was then run down by a car or some such vehicle. I received no major injuries, though I was knocked senseless and ended up missing the bus.

A man at the wheel of a red car pulled up and offered me a ride. Since he looked like the bastard love child of Ernie Coombs and Hans Moleman,

I took him as harmless and took him up on his offer. Once we got to my neighbourhood, he propositioned me for sex.

That's when I pretended to whip out a knife and held its invisible blade up to his throat.

I threatened to cut him good if he didn't let me out and drive off toot sweet. Presumably none too eagre to hurry through his twilight years, he did just that. Oh, and it wasn't winter anymore.

As I proceeded to walk the rest of the way home, the red car reappeared. Ernie Moleman was no longer behind the wheel. There were three unfamiliar men in there now, one of them wearing a white hood over his head; he had a bloody hole smack-dab in the centre of his forehead. As there was little cover to be had, I cut across someone's backyard and ducked down behind a short length of fence, hiding where I could see them but they couldn't see me. But they weren't human, after all, and they didn't need sight to locate me. Emerging from their car, they strode right up to where I had secreted myself. That's when I took up a length of hard, heavy wood and began beating at them with it.

Of course, being supernatural, they had greater endurance to pain and injury than any mere man. I'd hit them, and at best that would slow them down. Taking up their own lengths of wood, they in turn began hitting me; I wasn't as tough as they. Taking up a trowel lying within reach, I attacked one of the men — a portly, balding fellow — and stabbed him right in the brainpan. Twisting the trowel around, I managed to pop his eyes out, leaving them danging from their sockets. That didn't kill or incapacitate him; he was as brimming with piss and vinegar as he had been when this scuffle commenced.