I’m in a canal city – not on Leigh Bracket’s Mars, where such places offer “vices for which Earthmen have no name”, but a cleaned up modern city center, perhaps Amsterdam.
And I have coffee with old friends and just, you know, hang out.
I’ve known these people for years and the city is my home and…
…then I wake up.
Who? What? Where? WHY?
There’s something disturbing about such a bland dream. Not scared by Freudian snakes, not jostled by Jungian monsters, not facing failure. Just enjoying the company of strangers who are my friends in my home city to which I have never been.
Christiaan (sits bolt upright): Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. FUCK!
Gerbrich (holds him): Oh, darling, did you have the dreams again? With the swords?
Christiaan: There were tanks as well… and zeppelins. And I was fighting people…
Gerbrich: Never mind. Let’s go meet our friends by the canal for morning coffee…
Since writing this post, I have finally published Swords Versus Tanks 1: “Armored heroes clash across the centuries!” and its sequel Swords Versus Tanks Ep.2: Vikings battle Zeppelins while forbidden desires spark! If you know poor Christiaan, then please send him a link! It might help him make sense of the dreams