Dinosaur Denial

A few nights ago I dreamt that my eldest sister and her family had moved to a bigger house in the country. We all went to visit them, and the children were playing outside in the garden which was open to the surrounding fields and woods. At first it seemed like an ideal setting for them, and Fallon was gushing about how much better it was for the children than their old place. That was, until I noticed that they were surrounded by dinosaurs. The dinosaurs roamed freely, but when I pointed them out, Fallon seemed in denial. It was likely that she did not want to admit to the folly in buying a house in such a dangerous location.

I stood in the field, with her husband Aaron, as the sky turned pink and the sun slowly began to set. A herd of Amargasaurus rumbled by in the distance, and enormous Pteranodons swooped in the meadow, catching creatures in the gathering dusk. I tried to figure out what prey they were catching, when one of them flew close I looked at the struggling animal in its beak but could not work out what it was. I commented on how large and terrifying the pterasaurs were, but Aaron, like his wife, simply shurgged and downplayed the threat.

I then looked up the hill that rose to the woods and spied a gigantic Spinosaurus that had taken an interest in us and was cautiously approaching. I could see the outline of its ragged sail against the setting sun, and it's elongated head, almost duck-like, bobbing and weaving as it regarded us. When I pointed it out, Aaron reluctantly agreed to move inside and bring the children, but Fallon kept the patio doors wide open. I told her that the Spinosaurus could easily stick its head inside and eat her children, plucking them out one by one like a fox in a coop. She told me it was a lovely summer's evening and she wouldn't close the doors. She also told me off for trying to ruin their joy in put a downer on things. 

Monstrous Wolf

Last night I was with some friends at a swing park when we espied a pack of wolves on the fringe of the woods, some distance away. In typical machismo fashion, we urged one another on to take shots at them, to scare them off lest they hurt the children. It was a bad idea. In my eagerness to impress, I took aim with the sniper rifle, lined up the biggest wolf in my sights, and squeezed the trigger. Unfortunately, I had failed to account for the trigonometry of long range shooting, and my bullet fell far short. Although missing its intended target, the wolves were intelligent, and knew we were trying to hunt them. Most of them scattered into the forest, but the alpha male, the one I had intended to shoot, charged in my direction. 

I just had time to reload before the great brute was upon us. My compatriots hung back and left me to finish the job. As the wolf opened its jaws to attack, I thrust the barrel of the gun into its mouth and shot it through. It was a horrendous, demonic wolf, with elongated jaws like a crocodile, or some primordial beast that no longer stalks the land. The bullet did nothing to repel the creature, so I fired again. Again the wolf came on, enraged and foaming at the chops. I shot again, and again. Then I had to reload. The beast reared up to deliver a killing bite, just as I managed to slide one more bullet into the chamber, swing the rifle back into its open maw, and fire again. This shot did the job. The creature began to hiss and expel smoke from its jaws, like an old steam train. 

I thought it would drop dead now, but was not prepared for it regurgitating a big awful sack, like a placenta. We watched in revulsion as the wolf turned inside out to release its gastric burden, and then finally melt away in viscera and sulphur. What it left behind began to stir and groan in its membranous prison. The cocoon burst, and out flopped a giant, bald mutant lady, half reptile. One of her legs was a swollen, scaled club, appalling in its mutatedness. Whether the unfortunate victim had undergone such a metamorphosis in the wolf's belly, or if she's been like that before, we would never know, for the wretch could only moan. Half of her face was covered in green scales, and one of her arms was also a blistered mess. After several minutes writhing in agony, her body bubbled up, and then she exploded like a pus-filled boil.

Hotel Haunting

In this latest dream, I was on holiday in Paris with my family and my friend Darren, who was staying with us at the time of the dream. We were checked into a hotel in a central part of the city, a hotel which was rumoured to be haunted by a white lady. Li was away at a conference, and I was with Darren and Lulu when we heard the shriek of war planes overhead. The plaza lit up as multiple warheads streaked across the leaden sky. We ran with a crowd of frightened civilians, attempting to escape the warzone. Debris exploded around us and something large and metallic fell out of the sky, narrowly missing us. A war was not something we had signed up for, but we managed to get a good distance away from the hotel and to safety. I thought perhaps they may have been return missiles from Russia or Ukraine.

Later on, we retraced our steps through the blast zone to get back to the hotel. When we complained at the front desk, the staff assured us that the strikes were over and we would be safe to finish our stay. We were not so sure, but did not have the time or money to find alternative accomodation. Darren had downloaded a ghost app, which tracked supernatural activity. It was night now, and as we lay in our beds in a shared room, Darren whispered that the white lady had been picked up on the app and was making her way from a distant canal to our hotel. The app marked her progress as a radar blip, and we cowered beneath the sheets as it drew ever closer. 

"She's in the lobby now," he whispered, "let's pretend to be asleep." We closed our eyes and spent an uncomfortably long time waiting to see what happened. After a while, I checked the phone again and saw that the radar blip was right next to us, which meant the ghost had entered our room. I'm not sure what was more terrifying, the airstrike of earlier, or the confirmation of an invisible presence in the room. I will be going on holiday in Paris in real life in August, so let us hope this dream does not turn out to be prophetic.