That (Fictional) Time When I Was a GOAT

I am currently labouring under a "mild" migraine (as mild as my migraines get, in any case. I am at least functional). That's something. Please forgive me for the paucity of this particular post.

If I don't record this somewhere, I'll forget it, because my brain is, in fact a sieve, and I forget so much, so bear with me as I write a short little thing about a dream I had in the wee hours of the morning this morning. Before the cat woke me up and ruined it.

Okay, so in my dream, I was walking down a street at night. The pavement was wet - it had just finished raining. I entered what looks like the parking lot of a motel; an L-shaped, single floor building raised on a chest-height cement platform. A car pulled into the large lot and stopped as I reached the steps. I ignored it.

I climbed the stairs (there were, like, five of them), and walked to the corner of the short end of the building before pausing because I thought that maybe I was in the wrong place. A full, "Wait, is this actually where I live?" kind of weird moment when your subconsciousness is dancing around the edge of "wait a minute... am I dreaming?" So anyway, I stopped, and searched my pockets for keys.

Turning around, I was confronted by a man. Hovering at his left shoulder were two very unhappy-looking young women; a blonde and a brunette. Immediate DANGER signals shot through me, but instead of backing up, I squared off. The guy smirked, made a signal and one of the girls, the brunette, as I recall, steps forward with a black plastic bag. I easily stop her from putting it over my head.

The guy pulls a gun. And instead of backing down, I step forward, look the dude in the eye and dare him. I can't really remember what I said in the beginning, something along the lines of the escalation of charges from human trafficking to murder. It didn't work, obviously, so I dared him again and this line I do remember very clearly:

Go ahead. I am not so enamoured of life that I'm willing to be a slave to preserve it.

And I have never said or written anything quite this badass before in my life. My dream self is a goddamned queen.

Anyway, I'm going to use this line in something I write soon. I don't know what, but it will be something.

Damn.

Back to the dream, I was about to throw hands, but as soon as I brought them up and my hands touched the guy's forearm, the cat jumped on the bed and woke me up. So I don't know how that fight ended.

Phew. Glad I got that out before I forget it all. Now that it's gone into writing, I'll be able to remember it without looking at my notes. That scene is going to stick in my head for a while.

Thanks for putting up with reading all that. I know that few people find dreams interesting (I am endlessly fascinated by them), so this post is for the very few people out there who do!

Right, I have so much work to do.

Slán go foill!