I Don't Usually Dream... BuT wHeN i Do

Were There Aliens or Just Big, Mean Guys?

In the beginning of this story I was stuck in some massive amphitheater (it kind of reminded me of that thing in Disney where Stitch escapes the capsule idk) next to some random old dude. I was just chilling, completely calm. Some monotonous announcement was going on about how we were all going into like some semi-permanent hibernation, I don't know. So they started this countdown and I took one last sip of my Dr. Pepper (because obviously priorities) before jamming my phone in my hoodie pocket.

So this is all cool and calm right. Well, some random ass alien just bursts in front of my face out of nowhere. This thing looked like Alien except with a machine gun in its stomach. I have no idea what was going on at that point but it suddenly flashed to a completely different atmosphere.

Now, from a third person view, I'm watching these post-apocalyptic government officials track down this child right. I don't know why they were doing it. There was an entire family trying to get into this house or whatever but they only wanted the kid. So, apparently there was this rule that once the kid touched the carpet in the house, he belonged to that house and nobody could take him. I'm just chilling here with a creepily-close viewpoint watching this kid casually jump up and grab a ledge a solid five or six feet in the air (and this kid was probably a toddler). Of course, all of these government officials are scrambling to try to grab this kid's feet (they were blatantly underneath him standing there but for some reason couldn't grab him? They were just flailing their arms out at his stubby legs like limp spaghetti noodles) but the kid kicks his right leg up and pulls himself into the house. However, for some reason there was two feet of so of hardwood. So, this big burly man tries to make one final leap at this kid and gets probably not even three inches off the ground. Obviously, the kid scrambles and reaches the carpet so the officials all let out a disappointed, "aww," and just mope away really slowly.

Scene changes again but only moderately this time. I'm out back into the perspective of my own body. The house is no longer missing an entire wall on the second floor. It's actually a lot different than the house in the last scene despite being the "same house." It reminded me of a house I used to live in except bigger. Apparently, in this dream, I lived with a family of five. I had a younger brother and younger sister (both of whom I've never actually had) and my real life sister, as well as some middle-aged woman I assume to be the mother even though she abruptly disappears for the rest of the dream.

We were all wandering around, checking out the house, whatever. Apparently, in this post-apocalyptic land, anarchy had not taken place so the government still didn't allow several bizarre things. No cellphones (even though there was no electricity they still worked? And I'm not talking just little flip phones, I mean smartphones too.) and no ice cream. For some reason, those were the only two rules that came up.

Surprise, surprise, some random burly man walks in the house (I really want to use a word besides burly but that's the most accurate word for all of these men. Also, he kind of looks like Olaf from League of Legends except with a black windbreaker-type jacket; it was weird) and for some reason, no one notices. He walks upstairs, grabs some random flip phone that was sitting on the sink, and he takes the little boy over his shoulder. Why was everyone trying to take the little boy? I don't know. Regardless, I took a fork and jabbed it right in his shoulder blade. Why was I carrying a fork? I don't know. However, he just casually set down the boy and left? Why are post-apocalyptic people so well-governed?

At that point, we were all just chilling upstairs in the bedroom on the far end of the second story when I heard some men talking. So, like any smart person with good judgement, I took my sister over and was like, "ayo buddy watchu want?" Now three big men were all just towering over me (yes, they were burly men in black windbreakers; how did you know?). There was a curly blond that was the smallest of the three, a big guy with brown hair, and another with his hood up that just looked like he was there as moral support.

So, again, as the intelligent home leader, I asked, "whatcha doin' there Paco?" (And, no, Paco wasn't meant to be racist. I've been calling everyone Paco lately so that's likely where it came from.)

So, this guy looks up at me and says, "We were fixing your plumbing."

But like, why? Why would you just walk into some random stranger's house and fix PLUMBING? They don't even MAKE good plumbing. The number one rule here is that all the old stuff is better. "Why, what's wrong with my plumbing?"

"It's outdated."

Oh, no, really? I didn't know that. Thanks BUDDY. Well, what I assumed they were really after was my phone (yeah that's right; post apocalyptic iPhone 6 in charcoal grey) so I nonchalantly ripped it off the sink, shoved it in my pocket, and zipped it. Yeah, no, it was really obvious. So the big, buff moral support guy looks at me and says, "whatcha got there?"

"Where?" That's right, play dumb. They'll assume you're stupid and underestimate you. They won't think you've got a miniature version of a Bowie knife or a box cutter with an oversized, serrated blade in your pocket. Big, burly men fight with fists but small, scrawny girls fight with knives.

"In your pocket. You just zipped it. What do you have?"

"What do you mean?" If they try to manhandle me, I'll stab all three of these bitches. If they sit here and try to get me to tell them what's in my pocket, I'll drag it out for hours.

So, blondie and moral support both decide to just head down the stairs and leave but macho man stays.

"I know what you have," he says, "and I know you aren't allowed to have it. But, I'm feeling extra nice today, and I'll let you keep it." He starts waking down the stairs like he's going to exit so I just assume he does. I hide the phone in a box in the top of a closet just in case he didn't leave and tries to jump me for it before I go downstairs. Low and behold, he didn't leave. He was head deep in a massive box filled with gallon containers of ice cream of assorted flavors. We kept them mostly for the kids.

"You're not a government official, you're just a big baby. You dress up like one to trick people into handing over illegal items just so you can live in scandalous luxury."

"But you have Neapolitan and cookies and cream!"

"Keep it up and you're gonna look like a Neapolitan: split up in the different sections."

"No, please, can I just have some?"

"I'll make a deal with you. You can SHARE some Neapolitan ice cream with the little boy and then never come back. Or, you don't get any and I'll dice you up like an onion right her on the kitchen table."

And that was the first and hopefully last time I've ever seen a buff man sobbing while eating ice cream straight out of the carton. He then proceeded to physically drag himself out the door.

Thus concludes that, uh, dream...