Penny Hero (dot) Net

Yeah… ok. Bad dreams suck.

No clue why I had this one… I can usually attribute emotional or vivid dreams to something going on in my life… but I don’t feel this kind of anxiety or persecution… and I especially don’t feel anything like this in conjunction with my room mate. Maybe it’s just my geography midterm coming up… we are going to be tested about Saudi Arabia and stuff… dunno. Brain just decided to make me a bad person, and get chased by black helicopters for it… *pfft*

I was some kind of fighter pilot bombing the shit out of Saudi Arabia (why?). Brandi was my co-pilot. I saw this guy come out of hiding and set up a lounge chair in the sand down below, and then I saw a bomb strike him. (we were aiming at people). Saw him die a pretty horrid death. At one point, the enemy launched two black stealth helicopters, and we were notified to get our asses back to base… at which point, I became a regular university student, and Brandi became my room mate again… but the two black helicopters were still after us.

I put things together in my mind, and “suddenly realized” that the helicopters were coming specifically after me because of my part-Lebanese nationality. Brandi and I were hidden in a dorm room over in Hawley hall, and we accidentally knocked over some kind of homing device in there, and the helicopters zipped right up to the window. We hid under blankets, against the wall etc… so they couldn’t see us. but it was too close. I knew (from some kind of vision of their radar and tracking systems… I guess I was psychically connected to them because I was part Lebanese) that they were about to break the windows… so I suggested we run to our own dorm, and be careful not to knock over any more homing devices.

So we ran down the hallway yelling to neighbors to hide, and that the helicopters were after us. Somehow everyone automatically knew what was going on just by us knocking on their closed doors and telling them to hide. When we reached our own dorm, we closed the door, and took hiding positions on either side of our window (why not hide in a dorm away from the helicopters?) and waited. My dad was called at one point, and I could hear him talking to our RA outside in the hall. Everyone was concerned for our safety, and sympathizing, but no one could do anything except wait for the helicopters to give up.

At one point, I remember sliding down the wall and hiding under some white colored blankets, my back pressed firmly against the wall so helicopters looking in wouldn’t be able to see me. After a long time it became really quiet outside. I think Brandi was asleep. And I got up and opened our door. Nailed to every open space of our door were cards and notes and necklaces telling us how brave we were, and how concerned everyone was about us. Well-wishes and appreciation and candies hanging in little mesh bags. The door was covered.

My dad was gone, so I didn’t get to talk to him, and the hallway was quiet. I was skeptical about the helicopters actually being gone, and I didn’t want to leave Brandi alone in case they came back…

But that was it. That was the end of the dream.

In Other News: Last night I stayed up late re-organizing my photos. I deleted everything, and then returned copies of the more creative shots from the gallery’s previous incarnation and added twice as many more new ones from winter break in Hawaii and from Thanksgiving. Everything is now reduced to a manageable size (both for your browser and for my server) and I’ve put things in a sort of “album” style organizational system… instead of by date (Ben! There are kitty photos!). The downside of this is that it’s harder to see when I’ve uploaded new pictures… I’ll figure out a way to solve that. a “last update” file or something.

Go check out the ghettohouse party shots! (a journal reference) Before you tell me that all of them are fuzzy and blame my drunkenness, please note: I did that on purpose. I was playing with the idea of motion. No one sits still for portraits at a party, everything is busy and moving, and I wanted that in my photos. If I had a better camera, I probably could have focused better on the things I wanted sharp, and they would have turned out better. But nope. My camera is not so good. So consider this part of a photographic sketch pad where I’m keeping ideas to try again once I have a decent camera.

Comment Topic of the Day: Comments on the photos? Favorite photo? I want to submit a few to deviantart, but since none of them are perfect I don’t know which ones I should submit.