Colonel Gaddafi slashed my palms!

February 27, 2011

Starts off in some kind of department store, like Debenhams, but worse. I’m with my cousin, and we’re looking for a friend named O. We find him. Suddenly I’m in a house that’s really familiar, which is ONCE AGAIN filled with members of my stupidly extended family (fuck I must really love them). For some reason, from just chillin’ in the house, I am now being chased by a group of people, who are so vivid that I can’t even resemble a single detail about them.

Then the dream tables turn. I am now chasing a little shit who looks so fucking familiar, but I can’t make out who it is. He runs out the back door of the house, onto a kind of NY-style metal fire escape platform, with a long set of stairs to the ground. Dripping in swag, he vaults over the ledge of the platform and drops about 20ft, landing into a perfectly placed skip full of liquid. I run down the stairs like a little pussy and continue the chase, only to somehow pass a bathroom and find O hiding in a shower behind a curtain. I hide with him in the room, but quickly get spotted. Someone grabs my hands from under the curtain and slashes them with a fuck-off-massive knife! With bloody palms, I get dragged out by a guy who looks like Colonel Gaddafi. We now appear to be on a busy high street in some kind of Middle Eastern country.

He takes O and I to his wife, who tells us that we’re going to be executed. I argue, she walks away. Slag. Then suddenly we are both in my 41-year-old cousin’s BMW, being driven through some mountains at night, confused as to which side of the roadwe should be on.


One Response to “Colonel Gaddafi slashed my palms!”

  1. ristinw said

    Love to read your dream blog! Awewome! 🙂

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