Posts categorized “Dreams”

I had a very Robotech/Starblazers/Gundam inspired dream a few nights ago.

I was a space fighter pilot in Earth’s space military: Ensign Chris Harris.

The enemy planet had been doing crazy stuff with genetic engineering, and I somehow discovered that they’d genetically engineered the “Perfect Pilot.” Well, an enemy fighter pilot (who was himself a genetically engineered person called a “Protoform” – but nobody from Earth knew what a “Protoform” was yet) decided to defect to Earth’s side and stole the Perfect Pilot, who had just been created and therefore was a newborn baby. A couple of my teammates and I arranged to sneak the Protoform and the baby into Earth territory.

We all met in a small, white room. It looked like it a cross between an airlock, a medical bay, and a locker room. The defector handed the baby over to one of my teammates, a woman, who started checking it over to make sure it was healthy and whatnot.

The defector was completely covered from head to toe, wearing a tight black bodysuit with silver stripes on it and a helmet that looked a lot like a cross between Samus’s helmet (from the Metroid Games) and a motorcycle helmet with a tinted visor, disallowing us from seeing his face. He and I were talking about something—I don’t remember what—when suddenly he said, “Oh. Oh, geez. Whoops!” He flipped up his visor and we watched in amazement as a completely featureless face very rapidly morphed into an exact replica of my face (except without a beard, because I didn’t have a beard in the dream).

The defector explained that he was a “Protoform”: a genetic blank slate of a person. He had accidentally “imprinted” himself with me and became my exact genetic duplicate; He looked and sounded exactly like me.

I got the idea to let the Protoform take my place so that I could raise the Perfect Pilot baby. I forged a new identity for myself as an ace mechanic and forged adoption papers for the baby. But I knew I would need help, and so I got someone to co-sign the adoption papers with me: Ensign Xavia Nova Olson, Earth’s most kick-ass space fighter pilot.

We raised the baby together for five years, at which point someone in the military took a closer look at our situation due to the fact that this five-year-old kid was already a better pilot than ANYONE else. So they discovered what we’d done, but even though they were pretty angry it was too late to really do anything about it since we’d raised the kid from infancy. And the Protoform (as “Chris Harris”) had proven himself to be an invaluable member of Earth’s military. So we only got stern reprimands but no real punishment. They just kinda wagged their fingers and said, “Well, you really shouldn’t have done that.”

That’s around the time that I woke up.

It was an interesting dream, but I could tell my dream people were kinda grasping at straws at various points. A lot of the scenery was taken straight out of Star Wars and the above-mentioned animé series. The term “Protoform” is actually from a couple of different incarnations of The Transformers. It’s what a Transformer is before it has an alternate mode, so it was kinda applicable to the defector’s genetic blank-slate state. And when my dream needed someone to help me raise the baby, my dream people went, “Quick, which one of Chris’s friends has the most science-fiction-sounding name!?” and came up with Xavia Nova Olson, whose name does indeed sound like it coulda come from Gundam Wing.

When I woke up I had the feeling that I was really only maybe halfway through the dream. I had the feeling that in the second half of the dream the enemy planet would have figured out where their Perfect Pilot had disappeared to and would have attacked us to try to get him back, and there would probably have been some big action scene and it would have turned out that one of my superior officers was the traitor who tipped off the enemy planet.

Last night I had an absolutely incredible dream. I woke up laughing several times, but forced myself immediately back to sleep because I wanted it to continue. And a couple of times I woke up in my dream just so I could explain the dream to people.

What was the dream about? It was about discovering a strange, rare, semi-legendary film/documentary that was made in the 1960s and worked on “for 30 years.” No official print of it was ever made, so there are only pieced-together versions based on what footage could be found. The film was called, as near as I can tell, The Vintigglia Tapes/Chair, though it was also just called Vintigglia for short.

It was one of the most meta films ever made because it was not only a fictional story, but it was simultaneously a documentary about the making of itself.

I only know the plot synopses because at one point during the movie (in the middle of a scene, no less) an interviewer with a microphone stepped up to the main character, a young man with a crappy 60s mustache, and asked, “What is this movie you’re making about?”

The young man, confused, took the microphone and used it as a pencil to write down the answer on a pad of paper. He wrote this synopsis:

A young man with a crappy 60s mustache searches for a mystical fork/chair combo.

I laughed and laughed. I would NEVER have been able to figure that synopsis out based on the footage I saw. I also loved that the microphone actually worked as a pencil. In fact, the interviewer/reporter tried to ask a few more questions, but the main character refused to answer them out loud; he just kept scribbling the answers on the paper with the microphone.

Let me tell you about the other scenes that I remember watching. First of all, I should mention that most of the movie was filmed in the same room or two of an apartment. It was supposed to take place in several locations, but they didn’t even try to dress up the apartment to make it look different. Also, the “special effects” in the movie were of public access television quality.

Example: Towards the beginning of the film (though I dreamed it towards the end of the dream), the Young Man with the Crappy 60s Mustache and his sidekick, a young man with enormous glasses (each lens five inches wide) whose entire face was one big burn scar (but not in a gross way), set out on their quest. For some reason they had to cover their faces with papier-maché and cross an ocean. There they were simultaneously attacked by a bird, which was played by a store-bought bird pinata, and a shark, which was 2-dimensional and made out of felt and construction paper. The shark ended up “eating” the bird (the pinata was pushed through a hole in the shark’s mouth between its felt teeth), allowing the heroes to escape. This whole scene was filmed in the apartment. The ocean was created by a couple of guys flopping a blue-and-white quilt around on the floor, and no effort whatsoever was made to hide them or the people who were puppeteering the bird and shark. Also, the sidekick kept on accidentally tearing the papier-maché on his face (mostly because it was plastered entirely over his humongous glasses and he couldn’t see at all) and commenting about it. But they kept that in the movie because it was a “documentary” about the “making of” The Vintigglia Tapes/Chair. A narrator, in fact, intruded to mention that the sidekick ripped his papier-maché mask, which was not supposed to happen.

Another scene filmed in the same apartment took place much later in the movie. It was a party of some sort, kind of the rich and snooty type. The host was talking to two guests who were sitting on a couch:

At that point the man and woman were attacked by a horrific, giant bird (yes, I see a theme there)! The special effect of the bird attack consisted of intercutting between the two guests screaming while still seated on a couch, and a still photograph of a bird. Every time it cut back to the bird, the photograph was slightly closer to the camera. Also, to heighten the tension, “¡Attenzione!” was superimposed across the bottom of the screen whenever the photograph was shown.

When the bird finally got close enough to attack (after about three or four rounds of cutting back and forth). It cut back to the screaming guests, who suddenly stopped screaming as an egg dropped in from the top of the screen. The man caught it without breaking it and looked at it, confused. It seemed the bird’s “attack” consisted of it trying to lay an egg on someone. The bird was never seen nor mentioned again.

At that point the main character and the sidekick entered the party. The sidekick went right up to the hors-d’ouvre table to find something to eat. He pulled from a bowl a frozen chicken cutlet. An incredibly befuddled expression came over his burned face, and he slapped himself on his lips with the frozen piece of chicken over and over again, while pleadingly looking at the main character as if to ask, “How am I supposed to eat this!?”

I’m pretty sure I woke myself up laughing at that point.

Some scenes weren’t filmed in the apartment. Some scenes were filmed outside.

One scene took place in a dusty and grassy field. It was filmed with low-quality 1960s film stock. Inside a convertible parked in this field, a greaser with a black leather jacket was having a serious conversation with a girl-next-door type of young woman. The narrator from Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was narrating over them. Without warning, it cut to a woman lying on her back in the field about 15 feet away from the car. She was dreamily rolling the back of her beehive hairdo into the dusty ground as the tall grass around her swayed gently in the breeze. The narrator said, “Sally, meanwhile, was still on drugs.” This cutaway with the exact same narration happened three times during the course of the scene.

Shortly after that was a sequence where a young woman (it could have been the same girl-next-door from the car scene; I’m not sure) and a young man with curly Greg Brady hair and wearing a red flannel shirt were frolicking at the base of a cliff, giggling and chasing each other and hiding behind rocky outcroppings and trees. A soft spring sun shone down around them. It was one of those goofy, innocent scenes that you can only really find in 1960s movies. Plus there was a light, breezy 1960s movie instrumental song playing in the background, the kind of song with violins and an acoustic guitar. But during the whole course of the scene, which was several minutes long, people’s names kept appearing in the lower right corner of the screen in a fancy script.

I was very confused by this, and I turned to Carrie (who was watching the movie with me at this point) and said, “Are those supposed to be credits? I don’t think any of those people are actually in this movie… or helped make it.”

Indeed, they just seemed to be randomly-generated names, or sometimes names of famous actors who clearly were not in Vintigglia. It was also very strange because the scene took place right around the middle of the movie.

Then on the lower left corner of the screen a name that I recognized appeared in sans-serif font: “Brian Michael Bendis.” The Brian Michael Bendis? The guy who is basically responsible for the direction of the Marvel universe for the past decade? I knew that the film was supposedly “worked on” through the mid-90s. Did Bendis have something to do with it?

This got me into research mode, so I decided to see what I could find out about Vintigglia. I discovered a fascinating academic debate as to whether or not the whole film was some sort of a hoax. None of the people who appeared in the film could be identified at all—none of them ever appeared in a single other movie, TV show, or even commercial, and a credit list was never actually written for the film during its production. Nobody had ever been able to match the faces of the actors in Vintigglia to anybody who was alive during its production. Also, nobody had ever been able to find in the real world the locations where the movie had been filmed. There were some scholars who thought there was a good chance that the whole film was relatively modern, and just used props, costumes, and film stock to make it look like it was filmed in the 60s.

Then while Carrie & I were looking through a tiny used bookstore, I happened upon a section of a small shelf that had a bunch of graphic novels and trade paperbacks written by Brian Michael Bendis. And there, nestled among the comics, was a hardback book. The spine read, “Vintigglia – Brian Michael Bendis.”

I eagerly snatched it up and flipped through it. It was an account of Bendis’s own research into the film after he discovered that his name was in it, and how he discovered various fragments of footage and the research that led him to be able to piece together an almost-definitive version (the version, it turns out, that we had been watching). He even believed that he had discovered the man who wrote, directed, and edited the movie, but the man had died the year before Bendis first heard of the film, and had left behind absolutely no records whatsoever so there was no way to verify anything.

The whole movie then began to take on this almost mystical quality. How was it made? Who were the people in the film? Why did nobody recognize any of them? It almost seemed as if it sprung into existence directly on the film itself, like how the creepy girl psychically imprinted images directly onto a video tape in The Ring. It was impossible for Vintigglia to exist, and yet we had watched it.

At several points during the night I “woke up” in my dream and—while still dreaming in real life—found various people I knew and told them how awesome this dream was. There were also at least two times when I “woke up” in the dream and thought, “That had to have been real, right? That movie was too awesome not to really exist!”

This was one of the best, most epic dreams I’ve had in a long time, and it was thoroughly enjoyable the whole way through. There were several points during the film where I clearly read stuff (Brian Michael Bendis’s name, the written-down plot synopses, and the Italian “¡Attenzione!”—I can even see the font for that one), so that whole myth about not being able to read in your sleep is completely busted. But I knew that; I periodically read stuff in my sleep. It was also hysterically funny. I give The Vintigglia Tapes/Chair four stars: ****

I was going through old writings, and I found this transcription of a dream I had back in November of 2008!

A couple of nights ago I had another one of my “building” dreams, wherein my dream people construct some sort of structure for me to explore. It happens with surprising frequency, and they’re some of my favorite dreams.

This one was a bit different, though, in that it was based on my own house:Carrie & I were hosting some sort of small party or something in the middle of the day. There were people over at our house. It was actually our real-life house with the correct layout and furniture and everything. Carrie, as usual, was spending most of the party in the kitchen making drinks and prepping food and all that fun stuff. At one point we ran out of something and I asked her where it was so I could grab some more.

“Oh,” she said, “I put it in the attic.”

“In the attic?” I was surprised. We’ve NEVER gone into the attic since we moved in here five years ago.

“Yeah,” Carrie said. “I got in one of my cleaning fits, and I ran out of stuff to clean down here so I started cleaning the attic. Come take a look!”

She led me out into the laundry room in the east end of the house where a panel in the ceiling led to the attic (in the real world this panel is in Carrie’s closet) and after a bit of wiggling she crawled up into it and then helped pull me up as well.

There was a rather small, cramped space up there, but with drywall and carpet instead of exposed beams. There was a window on the east wall that let in light. In the northwest corner of this area, though, was a very narrow hallway that went west a couple of feet. After one step down it opened up into a small, windowless, carpeted living room type of space with an angled roof. There was a leather couch on the east wall. The south and west walls were covered with cheap steel shelving, on which were displayed dozens and dozens of classic toys: Gaiking, a lion Voltron, and tons of other 80s toys.

Needless to say I was extatic. This was amazing! “Yeah,” Carrie continued, “I cleaned up this room but didn’t know what to do with all of this stuff. I think we should get rid of the TV.”

Indeed, there was a TV on one of the south-wall shelves. “Not so fast,” I said as I examined it. “Our TV is on its last legs. Maybe we can use this one.”

Carrie picked up some bottles of apple cider (what we’d come up here to get) and I noticed that there was an opening to another hallway in the northwest corner of this living room. “What’s down here?”

“I don’t know,” Carrie said. “I never got that far.”

I promptly headed down the hallway. About five feet down there was an open doorway on the right (to the north). On the other side of the doorway was a small, furnished bedroom with a sunny window. About five feet further down the hall ended at another small, furnished bedroom which took up the entire remainder of the west end of the attic.

“Hey, there are two more bedrooms up here!” I called out to Carrie, who followed me into the hallway. “That makes this a five-bedroom house,” I said with faulty math. It only made the house have four bedrooms, not five.

This west-most bedroom had sliding glass doors on its north wall. They opened onto a small deck, maybe 5′ × 7′. The west railing opened onto a path, which I followed. It wound around the rooftops of the neighborhood houses. The neighborhood suddenly had become like something out of a Miyazaki movie, like Porco Rosso or Kiki’s Delivery Service: old-world European with a lot of flowers and stones and moss.

I totally remember that dream! It was really cool how the world in the dream kept on unfolding and expanding, and the rooftops at the end were truly beautiful in the gentle, warm sunlight. Good job, Dream People!

Last week I had two great dreams in one night. The first one I call The Case of the Missing Socks:

Carrie & I lived in a house that isn’t the house where we actually live. This one was situated on a couple of acres of fields and trees. It had a porch that wrapped around the entire perimeter. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows, and just on the other side of the porch opposite these windows was a rather large bush.

I couldn’t find my socks. I had some socks, but not nearly as many as I should have had. They kept on disappearing and I couldn’t figure out why. It was pretty steady, too. I’d put them away in my sock drawer and when I went to get some out there would be less and less each time. It was very puzzling to me.

Soon I found them, though: they were in that bush outside the bedroom windows. They were dangling from the branches like bananas, but it was obvious that they weren’t growing from the branches. The bush didn’t produce socks, my socks somehow ended up in the bush. I thought this was incredibly bizarre, so I asked my friends and family if they knew how the heck this was happening.

None of them thought it was in the least bit odd. They were like, “Oh, good, you found them.”

“Yes, but they were in a bush. Outside!”

“Well, that’s good.”

I tried to get them to help me figure out how they could have possibly gotten in there, but everyone just kinda thought that that’s where they ended up because that’s where they ended up. Somebody did kinda half-assedly make a suggestion, though: “Maybe the floor in your bedroom is slanted just a little?” The implication being that my socks were rolling across the bedroom floor, across the porch, and then landing in the bush.

The problem, of course, was that they weren’t rolled up when they were in the bush. They were fully un-rolled. I was getting kind of frustrated at everybody’s indifference to this very strange mystery.

Unfortunately at that point I had to use the bathroom, so I got up and took care of business. When I went back to bed I had another, seemingly unrelated dream:

Two of my friends, who in real-life are expecting a baby, went to the doctor’s office and learned that they were having a boy. They were so excited (especially the guy) that they decided to throw an impromptu “We’re Having a Boy” party. They decided to have it at my house. Without telling me or Carrie about it beforehand.

In the time it took them to drive from the doctor’s office to my house (which in this dream was actually my real house) they had planned the entire party and invited all of the guests. They all arrived at my house shortly before Carrie & I did—we had been off doing errands of some sort.

‘What the Hell is going on?” I asked the guy.

“We’re having a party at your house!” he said with a big smile on his face.

There were tons of people in the house. Must have been 40-50. My dream people were just throwing random people in my life in there as extras: Fools Play friends, Bead Factory people, etc. Eventually, though, they must have run out of people I actually know and in desperation threw in someone random.

Nathan Fillion was at the party.

But he was tiny. Maybe 5′2″ at the most. And he had his “Caleb” haircut from Season 7 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

By way of explanation, the guy who planned the party simply said, “Oh, yeah, I invited Nathan Fillion.”

It really didn’t seem like that big of a deal for him to be at the party. He wasn’t mobbed by people wanting an autograph or a picture or anything. Nobody was really talking to him all that much, so we went over to talk to him. He seemed like a very pleasant fellow, and I guess we’d known him for a while because he knew our names and stuff like that.

As we were talking a thought suddenly struck me. “I bet Nathan Fillion would get a kick out of that story.”

So I said to him, “Oh, hey, Nathan, you’re never gonna believe this dream I just had. You see, my socks kept on disappearing…” and I explained my entire previous dream to him. He agreed with me that it was very strange that nobody thought that it was weird that my socks were in a bush.

If the dream continued after that I don’t remember it very much. I should add that Nathan Fillion was wearing a sports coat over a T-shirt and was holding a yellowish drink in a clear plastic cup the whole time.

Well done, dream people! Both those dreams were excellently amusing.

I had a tornado dream a couple of nights ago! Hooray! I so heart my tornado dreams. This one was unusual in that very early on I realized it was a dream. You’ll see why:

My brother & I were looking out the back of the house we grew up in (in Kent). The sky was clouded with a pretty uniform light gray, but in the center of the sky a big swirl was starting to form. We were very excited about this, because tornadoes come from swirly clouds.

But there was something almost immediately odd about the swirl in the clouds. It was too regular. Too… fractal. Like this:

I was immediately suspicious, and told my brother, “I think this might be a dream.” But almost immediately an actual funnel cloud formed and dove for the ground. It wasn’t so much a funnel cloud, though, as it was a wiggly vertical tube cloud that descended from the spiral.

We were very pleased by this development; it seemed realistic enough. We eagerly watched as the bottom of the tube approached the ground.

But then *BOINK* the instant the tornado touched down it was, as if by magic, replaced with a gigantic orange tarp. Several hundred feet tall, awkwardly rolled up and bound by many ropes.

“Yeah,” I said to my brother, “this is a dream all right.”

My dream people valiantly tried to keep the dream going after that, which included us storm-chasing in a car a very tiny tornado (about 12″ wide) that was headed for Seattle, while simultaneously being “chased” (it was more just lazily following us) by an identical tornado. When we got to Seattle I think my dream people didn’t feel like accurately rendering the city, because it didn’t look at all like the real Seattle.

But what were they thinking? A tornado transforms into an enormous orange tarp? What the heck kind of dream is that?

Soon after that I switched to another dream entirely that was a post-apocalyptic story about an afterlife in which everybody got indestructible bodies that were exact copies of their real ones, but then had to live among the ruins on Earth. Also, there was an angel who was in charge of all of this who was kind of awkward and didn’t know how to comfort all of the horribly upset, recently-deceased people.

Last night I had a very vivid and awesome dream. It had a very specific, steampunk-style aesthetic.

I was in a big, castle-like fortress that was many stories tall and butted directly up against the ocean. It was made of dark brown stones and iron braces with glass windows. It was staffed by a rag-tag militia that was decked out in classic steampunk trappings: big goggles, oversized trenchcoats, long beards, enormous gloves, and long, skinny rifles. I wasn’t one of them, though; I was somehow an outsider, but an important outsider who they were trying to protect.

A massive pirate ship showed up in the water and demanded that the fortress surrender me to them. They refused, and the leader of the militia told me to get to the “safe room,” which was a big room with foot-thick steel walls just back of the command post about halfway up the fortress. The leader sent one of his underlings to make sure I was safe, but I didn’t trust the guy at all—I knew that he was secretly working for the pirates and was going to betray me to them and probably stab the militia leader in the back with a big knife. I don’t know exactly how I knew all of that, but I was certain of it, so I decided I would be safer by myself.

So instead of going to the safe room I ditched the traitor and ran off down a corridor in the fortress. Unfortunately it was a corridor lined with big windows, and someone on the pirate ship apparently spotted me because they opened fire directly at me. I was shocked at how accurate the cannons were even though I was way up the side of the building (probably ten stories or more). The cannons were busting holes in the windows and walls just inches away from me and I repeatedly had to dodge the flying debris.

By this time, though, the militia had rallied and began fighting back—with flying ships. There were two varieties. There were some big warships that looked like they came straight out of Howl’s Moving Castle (except they were live-action instead of animated). And there were dozens of little two-man airships that had rapidly-flapping wings like the airships in Castle in the Sky, but they were divided into a front section that had the wings and the pilot, and the rear section that had a cannon and a gunner. The rear section was gyroscope-stabilized so that no matter what crazy angle the ship was flying at, the cannon would be level.

The pirate ship launched some of its own airships and a couple of big flying warships of its own came in as reinforcements. A huge air-to-air and air-to-sea battle erupted. The gunners on the pirate ship seemed like they had an almost supernatural ability to lead their targets. They would fire huge bursts of 6 or 7 cannonballs at a seemingly empty area of the sky. But then, sure enough, a militia warship would just happen to move into that area just in time to get hit. The little ships were a little too agile to get hit by the pirate ship, though.

The ongoing battle distracted the pirates from shooting at me, at least. At this point I came upon another valuable outsider like myself who the militia were trying to protect. This guy was played by Josh Hird the Maroon Fool. He was one of those very foolishly Hero types; he was getting into flying gear so he could go out and fight off the pirates himself, even though his (and my) survival was somehow drastically important. I realized that the reason he was going to risk himself like that was because the weasely little Traitor had convinced him to do so. I knew that the Traitor was going to do something bad to the Hero, sabotage him in some way or plant a bomb on him or something like that, so I decided I’d better stick with him and protect him.

Before he headed out to battle, though, he said he needed to pee. This seemed reasonable, so I quickly said that I would go with him ’cause I needed to pee, too, and that way I could make sure that nothing bad happened. We made our way to a bathroom where he took the stall and I took a urinal. These were steampunk urinals, though: brass bowls with overly complicated plumbing. They were set in the middle of the room about two or three feet off the floor, with thin metal walls in between them. I took the one on the far end and started peeing in it, only to notice too late that it was broken.

I should point out at this point that, yes, I did need to pee in real life. So I went and took care of that then went back to bed for some more dreamin’

During the course of this break I had apparently convinced the Hero not to get himself killed, and we’d escaped the battle and made our way to a research facility of some sort, and that’s where the dream started up again.

The steampunk researchers here were working on a new, super airship, and they needed our outsider help to finish it. This is when it became clear that the Hero and I weren’t just outsiders; we were from an alternate future and therefore had all sorts of knowledge that these guys didn’t have access to. They needed our help to defeat the pirates. They showed off the prototype of their airship, which was an awesome, segmented airship that reminded me of a winged caterpillar. It was very fortified but not very fast.

The Hero and I rolled up our sleeves. We had a lot to teach about rocketry, jet engines, and aerodynamics.

Stuff got kinda muddled after that and the dream rapidly lost focus. I remember a couple women with big hoop skirts and parasols, like people out of Un dimanche après-midi à l’Île de la Grande Jatte. I also remember a model of the caterpillar airship flying through Christine & Lawrence’s house. So by that time the dream was effectively over.

Last night I had two dreams, one of which I remember very well and the other only vaguely:

First off, I had a dream that the movie Cloverfield had been re-made in black & white and with only 1950s style special effects. The Cloverfield monster now only had one gigantic cyclops eye as well. Its arms were still long and gangly, but looked a lot like the alien from Twenty Million Miles to Earth. Much of the movie (particularly the climax) took place in a barren hilly area with a lot of fog instead of New York City. The stop-motion animation of the monster was less than convincing. Also, the main characters were a grizzled private eye and a gritty mechanic-slash-helicopter pilot.

Secondly, I had a dream wherein I was arguing with some vastly powerful form of self-aware cosmic energy. It was mad at me and/or humanity in general, and it kept on forming itself into a 6-foot-tall tire and trying to run me over while I was trying to calm it down. It transported me to “its realm,” which looked kinda like a green-and-white computer grid with lots of crystalline and diamond-shaped formations. There it continued to periodically turn into a green-and-blue tire, which I would have to dodge while continuing to try to calm it down. It wasn’t scary at all; this vastly-powerful cosmic entity was just kinda pathetic and I felt a little sorry for it.

I heart my dream people.