We Must Join the Fight with our Comrades!


As with many of my dreams, this one started out in a post-apocalyptic world that had been ravaged by some unknown force. The governments were either completely destroyed or in utter chaos and were completely ineffective.

With this background, I was admiring a very solid and well-equipped emergency backpack that I had outfitted in case I needed to survive off the land while traveling very quickly from one destination to another.

At this point the “government” raided our house and quickly took control of the building. They seemed to be a combination of the Imperial Empire and 1970-era Soviet bureaucracy, as they regarded us as subversive individuals, but only left one guard during the day, and none at night!

I noticed my valued bag had been confiscated, and went (of course) to REI to see if I could find it. It seems they were somewhat of a black market of bags now and when I got there I saw Sean was working at REI, and after some discussion, he revealed that he worked in the bag processing department and had hidden bags throughout the store.

The Commie/Imperial government had a special bag agent who tried to sniff out unauthorized bags and persecuted those who trafficked it most mercilessly. After sniffing around much like a ringwraith, he found a contraband bag and quickly moved to capture Sean.

Luckily, he had friends in high places that created a distraction so he could run through to safety. At this point I started to have the ability to see through walls, and after being found in REI (I guess I wasn’t supposed to leave the house?), I had to flee.

Running through the x-ray wall, I found my beloved bag in a large pile of bacon. Grabbing it, I ran out and found myself in the middle of a game that was 50% Crysis (it had Koreans with laser sights), and 50% Half Life 2 (moving walls and bridges). I used stealth mode and crawled under the Koreans on a bridge guarding the area.

This is when everything started getting weird, as I soon found myself being trailed by a bridge that was materializing out of thin air. Below me was a rather large amount of lava doing lava-y things.

Soon enough I saw a coastal port down, and it was dominated by an extremely well-painted water tower that ruled the skyline. There was a ferry to take, which would allow me to “join the fight of our comrades.”

Except there was one issue: I was wearing my Husky basketball shorts and didn’t have my wallet or identification. Next thing I knew, I was in a dune buggy with a skeleton in the middle, and someone else in the right seat saying “you gotta do what you gotta do.” Finding myself in front of a fireworks stand that had since been converted to some sort of bureaucratic stand, the skeleton would somehow help me get some fake identification.

That’s when I woke up.

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