My (fairly crazy) dream (also: Spit Syndicate rules)

Double S rule. What a show.

...

I had the maddest dream last night. It was night time and I was on a bus. It was full. We were being harassed by Giger style aliens. In the dream, I understood that the aliens were going to kill us all and that was going to be it so I went to the entrance of the bus and was like, "fuck it. If we're all going to get killed, you may as well kill me first."

The alien lifted up my rib cage and spit acid saliva on my heart. It (telepathically) explained to me that I'd be dead really fast; the acid's like that. I went back and took my seat waiting for death. Then I waited a little more. I was dying but not dead.

So then I'm like, "look, I'm sure your acid's really great and it works well most of the time and you're great Mastah Killahs or whatever, but I'm dying slowly and painfully here. Just put a bullet through my brain. A bullet. It's not hard. Take out your little gun, pull the alien trigger, and put an alien bullet in brain. Easy. If you're scared it's cool. I'm sure your violent invasion will go great if you're just pussies with slightly acidic saliva."

I was shot through the head three times.

Then it changes. I'm still mortally wounded, but now I'm driving our dinner table (!) back to Greenwich. It's a beautiful day. I figure I'll die at the house I grew up in with family, you see, so I phoned Al and mum and Bill and told them to meet me there.

Then: I bumped into you and Rob. You guys were admirably disappointed about my impending doom, but handled it well. Then you hopped on my car/dinner table and started heading to Greenwich.

I got to Greenwich, had a shower, got into bed, and died.

It was fairly odd.