Klingons
A dream with Klingons eating rats.
I know I have another dream for this date. I was on Xmas vacation and feeling decadent, so I woke up at 9, wrote down my other dream, took a little insulin and went back to bed.
There were Klingons in the backyard. It wasn't all that bad, though, because our yard was a lot bigger than it used to be. Instead of being in front of an alley, we were in front of a huge forest. It could hold a lot of Klingons.
These were some pretty piss-poor Klingons. They were dirty and scrawny. They were real Klingons, not fanpeople in bad outfits, but I got the impression that if Klingons had Star Trek conventions, these guys would throw on some pointy ears and go as Spock.
Pop was making juice in the kitchen. He was still in his robe, but it was late afternoon. That was not uncommon over Xmas vacation. I was dressed and reading the paper.
"Hey," said Pop, "Let's join the Klingons in their revels!" With that, he wandered out the back door, still carrying a pitcher of grape juice.
I followed him, probably because I could tell where the action was going to be in this dream.
The Klingons were running around on all fours, catching large, diseased-looking rats in their teeth. There were many rats, but not enough for all the Klingons. They fought over rats.
Pop found a stick and started digging up roots. There were some startlingly big roots in our backyard forest, about the size of a soda pop can. He gave some to the Klingons, then took a bite himself. When they saw Pop eat the roots, they grunted and started eating their roots. They were hungry Klingons, so they finished quickly.
Pop showed them how to make a digging stick and dig roots.
It was odd that they had the classy Klingon outfits, because they lived in tunnels in the ground that were so small that the only way to travel through them was to writhe on the ground, hands at your sides. After about fifty feet, the tunnels would open into a big central room full of young children and leftover roots.
Not that I went in the tunnels. I really didn't want anything to do with the Klingons.
There were Klingons in the backyard. It wasn't all that bad, though, because our yard was a lot bigger than it used to be. Instead of being in front of an alley, we were in front of a huge forest. It could hold a lot of Klingons.
These were some pretty piss-poor Klingons. They were dirty and scrawny. They were real Klingons, not fanpeople in bad outfits, but I got the impression that if Klingons had Star Trek conventions, these guys would throw on some pointy ears and go as Spock.
Pop was making juice in the kitchen. He was still in his robe, but it was late afternoon. That was not uncommon over Xmas vacation. I was dressed and reading the paper.
"Hey," said Pop, "Let's join the Klingons in their revels!" With that, he wandered out the back door, still carrying a pitcher of grape juice.
I followed him, probably because I could tell where the action was going to be in this dream.
The Klingons were running around on all fours, catching large, diseased-looking rats in their teeth. There were many rats, but not enough for all the Klingons. They fought over rats.
Pop found a stick and started digging up roots. There were some startlingly big roots in our backyard forest, about the size of a soda pop can. He gave some to the Klingons, then took a bite himself. When they saw Pop eat the roots, they grunted and started eating their roots. They were hungry Klingons, so they finished quickly.
Pop showed them how to make a digging stick and dig roots.
It was odd that they had the classy Klingon outfits, because they lived in tunnels in the ground that were so small that the only way to travel through them was to writhe on the ground, hands at your sides. After about fifty feet, the tunnels would open into a big central room full of young children and leftover roots.
Not that I went in the tunnels. I really didn't want anything to do with the Klingons.