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dream.20070824: death sentence

by Rob Friesel

Teleported, perhaps fallen through some gate to another dimension.  It’s impossible to tell how I’ve landed here in this Star Wars meets Jurassic Park meets Alien wonderland.  Fear for my life; obviously I have trespassed here or else have been caught elsewhere and dumped here for some gruesome execution.  I am in this huge paddock — dusty ground littered with bones, a cube-shaped building at its center, raised off the ground with enormous stilts.  Every fifty meters or so, an egg-shaped silver pod erupts with a green hybrid create that is as much T. rex as it is Gieger’s xenomorph.

The creatures chase me.  They are fast.  When I look up to the cubic building, I can see uniformed men inside; they’re wearing the simple grey uniforms of Palpatine’s Empire, right?  Snarling jaws close nearby, snapping.  The creatures are moist and they smell.  They do not have distinct heads but rather a mouth and eyes that jut out pseudo-pod-esque from the rest of their bodies; all of them green like an unripe berry.

I discover I can jump.  Not high enough to reach the top of that central building but high enough to avoid the creatures temporarily.  I fall slowly here.  But the jumps are so exhausting.

About Rob Friesel

Software engineer by day. Science fiction writer by night. Weekend homebrewer, beer educator at Black Flannel, and Certified Cicerone. Author of The PhantomJS Cookbook and a short story in Please Do Not Remove. View all posts by Rob Friesel →

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