A Violent Dream

Okay, here it is… the Thundercats meets the Dirty Dozen meets the Mafia meets Pee Wee Herman.

I can only remember the last portion of the dream and it is fading fast.

It late afternoon and I am part of a team of about half a dozen. Various members of the Thundercats as well as personalities from commercials and movies (Christian Slater was one of them). We were in a camp on the edge of a wilderness which seemed to me to be similar to a themepark (the aligator pit, the loop de loop car road thingy that hot wheels runs on), and such. We got a distress call from one of our team members who were stuck on the eastern edge of the area and we scrambled, with theme music, to go help. Being the specialists heroes that we were, some drove sports cars, some swam the river at amazing speeds, some swung from vines. I remember being in a speed boat moving down the river while a Cheetaro was swimming as fast as the boat was going, and I was watching the movement of her arms and thinking that if I ever got in a fist fight with her, all those fast punches would really hurt. Most, however, drove cars and after we crossed the river we came to some highway and formed a single line of fast moving cars. My first person perspective kept switching from character to character. When we got to some highway which looked eerily like the highway interchanges between Dallas and Fort Worth, on the south side of town, Cedric the Entertainer was in a red porshe and came zooming by me, saying over the intercom that he was tired of dragging up the rear that he was taking the lead (in the sort of tone and jest that the individuals of the team used to have friendly competition among ourselves) and he used an on-ramp as a jumping ramp and would have moved to the front of the speeding convoy of heroes, but he goofed it and crashed his car (he wasn’t hurt) in the trees (which were now a jungle again). Christian Slater (who I was at this point in time) saw the stunt and thought it fun and I gave it a try in my white Acura. We were going super fast, fast enough for Christian Slater to jump out of the car, while in air, and pull some sky diving stunts alongside the speeding leader of the convoy. The physics of everything now appeared more like jets flying through the air than cars on the ground. Christian (I was someone else now and saw this from third person perspective) made a funny face to the driver of the van (our team mates) who all laughed at the Slater, and marvelled at his skill. But it was time for him to touch ground, he had a lot of velocity, and an apartment building was coming up and he used speed, agility, and lots of twists and turns on trees and handbars and railings and walls, to slow down his momentum. The leading van was now stopped and everyone getting out, Slater walking casually up to the van, and myself coming up as well, when a black van suddenly pulled up a few feet away and behind one of the supports to the large overhead bridge. We were under a bridge (the apartment building too) in a scene like you see in a mobster movie. When I say bridge, I mean something like the Brooklyn Bridge here. We all stopped our hearty laughter and moved our attention to the van, I peeked around our van at theirs to use my x-ray vision and sure enough there were about 8 people or so inside, looking like thugs from Eastern Europe and carrying a variety of Soviet model machine guns and assault weapons. They hurried out of the van into a line formation and proceeded to open fire on us, completely destroying our van. We returned fire with our own automatic weapons. I was now Lion-o, the leader of the Thundercats and I was using an M-60 and we had to fall back because we were getting creamed by the thugs. We backed out from under the bridge and into a wide grassy field. I dropped down under a bush and used it as cover and we made our stand there, two lines of people with very powerful machine guns shooting away at each other in the practice of warfare used during the Civil War, with lines of troops opposing each other, shooting at close range. Two or three of ours got killed, but we killed all of them. I had a Luger pistol with a long silencer (what happened to my M-60?) and I was shooting at two snipers under a tree on the hill. I shot a barrage of bullets, accounting for wind and distance and elevation, and having to basically aim up at the tree top for the limited range pistol to get the sniper (something that is impossible to do, but made sense in the dream). I got one and turned my attention to the other sniper and I saw that she looked like an 80’s valley girl. I still shot her. I yelled that there was a sniper out there, while I stood up and joined the rest of our remaining team, now down to about five, into a huddle on the grass. To our left was the greens of a mansion, we could see many people on the mansion’s balcony and commons, and knew them to be mafia and that we had to attack that position next. My perspective switched to one of the other team members now and I wasn’t satisfied that one of thugs was dead. So I walked over to the body and looked. I liked his Soviet weapons, much more powerful than mine, and so I pulled on it, the thug was playing possum and tried to shoot me, I shot him in the head and took the weapon. With this weapon in my hand I began to laugh. Because now I transformed into Mum-Ra. I then took off my disguise and flew straight to the mansion, gun in hand. The team members shot at me, and I shot a lot at them, but I mostly ignored them and flew to the mansion. There I landed on the main balcony at the back and the leader of the mafia came up to me and asked me none too politely just what was I doing. I handed my gun to a nearby guy and then I grabbed the boss, and violently slammed him against the ground, over and over again until his body broke into pieces, where I then began to pound with my fists, until there was nothing left but bones, which I pulverized into further pieces. Oddly, there was no goo, no blood, no organs, no nothing… just bone matter… as if I had pounded a skeleton. I swept the pile off of the balcony with my feet and grabbed the gun back, assuming command of the mafia around me, who all agreed instantly to follow me. One of the mafia members said “Hey boss” and he brought up a skinny little guy who was very scared. I could tell that the inference was to make this guy my lackey, I needed a personal attendant. The scared guy was Pee Wee Herman and he started on this spiel of how worshippers of a god (me) should not have to wait for the god to order them to do something but should do it willingly before hand, but he never got around to it but he would do it now for me. He said all of this with clear hesitancy and fear as he stretched his finger out onto the table. He was to cut it off, showing his loyalty to me and sealing a blood pact. I laughed and put my hand on his head… I don’t konw if I was going to crush it or pardon him… because then I woke up.

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