05 November 2012 @ 05:22 pm
Write or Die. NaNoWriMo.  
 The dreams had begun suddenly, and potentially have a mysterious correspondence to the lightening bolt that struck me last week. Supposedly there is a study pertaining to the idea of whether or not random acts of a vengeful God can give one super powers or some shit. Apparently I'm in touch with swine, conspiring swine of the worst kind. 
You see, I'll lay down to sleep like most normal people at an hour deemed socially acceptable by some fat man in a suit, or so I was told by mother, and I'll check my alarm a few times to make sure that the power is still on and the terrorists haven't decided to nuke the Earth or something. And then the dreams begin.
There's a dark building, with no light. Hence the dark building, but there isn't even a window or anything. Then out of no where this pig comes walking out, literally walking on like two legs with these strange dangling arms that kind of remind me of a tyrannosaurus rex. It speaks to me in a strange tongue, but I know that it wants to eat me. You just know this sort of thing, or maybe it's a form of telepathy and that's how farm animals plot against the world. All this time your bacon has been judging you, watching you as you consume it. 
It's usually when I get to this point that the psychiatrists begin to scribble away, and I vaguely wonder if they're some sort of genetically modified species of bacon, judging you. Always.
This well dressed pig leads me on a labyrinth within a giant factory, which probably single handedly has caused global warming and should send out compensation to the millions of people without power right now, but that would go against the intentional motive seeing as though without power one cannot surf the web and buy these new products which I assume are patented under this pigs name. If pigs have such a thing.
You see there is this room, more like a room of many levels which debatably is many rooms within one. Other dimensions, that continue on forever. And within this strange paradox of fine out sourced quality construction there is an assembly line and screams and river of blood painting the floor that eerily resembles Abraham Lincoln's face, which is oddly comforting cause he never lied right? So perhaps these pigs have morals? But herded in these assembly lines are people of all sort of colors and sizes, this isn't a one size fits all package. There are so many choices, you could open a whole new department in wal-mart, which is apparently what this pigs want to do. And then right as I'm about to get a number, and new identity I wake up and never find out just type of meat I'd be label as and I'm really hoping that it's not chicken because I'm not too fond of social situations and it would be awfully awkward to  be wrapped in a package and sit on a shelf for god knows how long with someone you just can't stand. 
So, you're telling me that other people have never had a dream like this? 
How does that make you feel?: crazy
Helping the neighborhood stalker...: My Couch