Blood, devastation, death, war and horror dream # 6 952
It's not like I always dream of blood, devastation, death, war and horror, but it's just that I think this kind of dreams are the most interesting and the most worthy of writing down.
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Myself, my wife and our adult daughter were eating out at a restaurant. The hall, furnished in mostly red and black, with heavy wooden furniture, was strangely empty, save for a couple of slightly disquieting people at a table further away - an Asian woman and a middle aged European man, both strongly built, with smooth movements and somehow empty faces.
When we had finished our meal and tried to spot a waiter in the gloomy restaurant, the couple from the other table got up and started walking towards us with slow and relaxed steps. The man's face was cracked by a disturbing smirk.
They explained to us that the price for eating a meal at this restaurant was to fight them. And from the look of us, they said, it would be over soon, so there was no cause for worry. They handed us swords from a hidden cabinet in the wall.
I was the first. Nervously sweating and uncertain in my step I clutched the sword, as the man charged. His sword moved so fast I couldn't even see it. My body could hardly sense all the individual wounds he gave me, for his blade flashed so fast through my bodily tissues that my torso and abdomen were one single splattering wound within seconds. It hurt like hell, and I slumped down on the floor. I could barely see from the corner of my eye how my wife came forward, wielding the sword they had given her. She looked desperate but brave. Then, all went black.
At some point, I came to again. My wife was lying next to me, our daughter further away. There was blood everywhere. Strangely, it didn't hurt as much anymore, and I could move. My wife was conscious, as well, and she said she was all right again, too. I tried to get up, and I realised that all my wounds had healed again.
Suddenly, the man who had cut me up before started laughing at the other end of the hall. He said that they had apparently forgotten to mention one detail. The price was not only to fight them once, but to fight them *forever*. The food had given our bodies the ability to always heal up again after being torn apart. And, who knows, maybe at some point we would beat them - "But from the look of you guys - I don't think so."
They lead us into another hall, which was full of people sitting on benches in long rows. All of them were in the same situation as we, and had to "fight" these two people, get killed, come back to life, and do it all over again, time after time.
I glanced at my wife. From the look in her eyes, it just might be that she at some point would indeed beat them.
As for myself, I didn't feel too good about this. Eternal hell was waiting. We would be killed all over again, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. How could I ever learn to swordfight like them? I couldn't possibly beat them.
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This dream might be inspired by a thought I had at some point yesterday, about computer games, and how some of them seem completely impossible the first few times you try them, but after a few months, or weeks, you beat the hell out of the game without effort.
Hey, I could make a fighting game based on this concept ... if I could program games, that is.