If alien horses could talk…
This isn’t my usual ranting. Most of the time, there’s an edge of humor to my tirade. But how do you find humor in a nightmare this bad?
I can’t remember the details, just that it involved a white horse, some weird alien kid, some weird alien adult, and a serial killer.
What I know about horses could fit on the head of a pin in large letters but I do know that, as a general rule, horses don’t talk. I awoke after a child that didn’t look remotely human, the horse, and some other non-human form were hanging in the air dead.
At least I know what a horse is. I guarantee I know less about aliens than I do about horses. I can’t even identify the species of the victims.
The only other thing I remember clearly about the nightmare was a feeling, and that feeling didn’t seem to have anything to do with me in particular. After all, in the dream I was a sheriff. What I know about being a sheriff could fit inside an atom.
I don’t know what to call the aliens. Hell…I don’t even know their gender. And I can’t remember what the serial killer looked like, only that it had an ego the size of Eurasia and was about 2 feet tall. I’ll call the serial killer “Someone.”
So there I was, walking next to a talking horse in a forest of weirdness when Someone asked me for the horse. I warned Someone to go away and never come back. Somewhere between the beginning and end of the dream there were threats by Someone that I didn’t take seriously.
Someone told us to appear at a certain time, and we’d better be ready to submit. We didn’t, and in retribution, the bloodied dead horse and 2 aliens hung in the air, and blood littered the ground.
I’m ashamed to say that my first thought upon awakening was, “How am I going to get all that blood off the lawn?”
The feeling from the dream is nebulous, but I’ll try to put it into words: There’s a threat, one we’re not taking seriously. We have to get rid of it the first time it threatens us. We can’t afford to be Mr/Ms nice guy. If we don’t kill it while we have the chance, it’s going to kill everyone or every thing in it’s path. And for those who laughed at it, and dismissed it as harmless, Someone is going to kill anything we love just to make us suffer first.
I’ll ask you again: How I’m supposed to find humor in that?