Last night I finally had a dream that didn't end in misfortune somehow--which has been the trend for some time, now. Last night I simply dreamt that Warner Brothers, in the 1930s, was trying to come up with an efficient method of manufacturing magma and using it in movies. I woke up feeling gloriously neutral.
I dunno what sparked the trend. Some of the dreams were fairly innocuous, like the one where I went back in time to try to save Jack Kerouac, and failed. The night before last's was pretty interesting, though. I dreamt I could levitate, which made me safe from the queen alien (from Aliens), who was living in a cave just west of my old neighbourhood. While she was making ready to attack, I visited her to waylay her with a philosophical discussion about the usefulness of having living, happy people around you. I was somewhat dismayed that I couldn't even provide an argument that satisfied myself. So the queen alien, with an army of wolves, managed to devastate the world. I hovered through the empty cities, finding the occasional furtive survivors.
My sister had managed to survive--I noticed her with a group of five other people in front of a church. In fact, I noticed groups of about five people in front of nearly all churches. And all of these people had very tan skin and pale blonde hair. The wolves completely ignored them, and they moved in these odd, meaningless gesticulations, speaking gibberish like Sims characters.
I got a lot done yesterday. And now I want a bagel . . .