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Talk About Being a Dreamer

I dream weird things. I dream a lot. I dream weird things a lot.

Last night I dreamed these things, in no particular order:

I was in a store and realized the shorts I thought I had on were actually men’s briefs. I walked through the whole store before I realized my gaffe, and made my husband go get me a pair of shorts while I hid between racks of clothes. Interestingly, no one seemed to care that I was pantless but me.

I had a flashback experience where I saw the place Hagrid was born. It was beautiful—high up in the mountains, impossibly pale blue sky. Hobbit-like village, if hobbits were 12 feet tall and lived on mountains. Young Tom Riddle traveled back in time to kill a pre-Hogwarts Hagrid. His best buddy Gharj (second boss in Eternity Vault in SWTOR) came to his defense and rescued him. They were best friends forever from that point on. It was actually pretty touching. 

I was playing some kind of real-life game where you shoot guns at other people. They don’t die, of course, but somehow they are real guns. I’m not sure how that works, but it made sense to me then. I came into a match halfway through, and it was clear that the players here had been snipers. The room was all white, everyone was wearing white clothes and facepaint, and there were little sniper perches set up from these white pentagon-shaped boards that could be snapped together. One of my friends was in the match, and he was concentrating intensely on someone he was trying to snipe in the corner, so I snuck into the abandoned perch next to him. He didn’t see me, and he was covered in white paint, so all I could see was the outline of his eye protection. I was lining up my shot with my sniper rifle, which somehow had a heart-shaped barrel, when I woke up.

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