From Syria to a Starship - Dream Diary

Had a very strange dream last night. It began in New York City. Apparently, I planned on travelling to Syria with some friends of mine and a few redneck bikers we met somewhere. For some reason we were under the impression that there was some means of direct transit between NYC and Syria. The rednecks were reckless, brandishing their assault rifles as they were driving down main thoroughfares in the city. I remember some sort of trouble with the police – something to do with hard drugs that the rednecks were on or carrying. I seem to remember a gas station getting blown up in the process. My friends and I got bailed out of it by some cop who bore a face I recognized but a name I had forgotten.

We wound up in Syria though. We didn’t join up with anyone, but we were trying to get as close to the front lines as possible for some reason. We were filming what was happening if I’m not mistaken. At some point, we were pinned down on the street by someone shooting at us. I picked up a gun lying on the ground, an RPK machine gun, and returned fire so that they would duck, and we could get away. I’m not sure if I continued to carry the gun after we got away from the marksman that had us pinned down, but I think I probably did. The next house we ran into was occupied by a bunch of Rojava leftists, so we embedded with them. I distinctly remember seeing from the perspective of the camera at one point as we walked into a room occupied by enemy soldiers that didn’t notice us until the Rojava militants jumped on them and hacked them to pieces.

Next thing I know I’m back home, giving some presentation on my trip to Syria. I don’t know what the class was on, but it feels like I embellished a lot and I remember feeling guilty for embellishing. Afterwards, I’m back at the house and I see something moving in the woods behind our backyard. I take a closer look and it’s a Yautja alien. My mother even looked and came to the same conclusion. There’s another creature with it – I have difficulty remembering but I think it was an alien hunting dog. Once it had our attention, the Yautja leapt over our back fence from our neighbor Satti’s side and began dancing with us. It had white armor and white dreadlocks, I think. I’m not sure how long this went on.

Then I’m in the garage and there’s two or three men of Asian descent asleep in a car in our driveway. I thought that they were Korean, but I wasn’t sure. They were armed, in full kit but napping. Then I notice that a xenomorph is encased in restrictive armor where my refrigerator currently resides in our garage. It appeared to be sleeping. I wheel the xenomorph out of where it had been placed and start undoing the armor. I was able to remove the arm restraints, but I don’t believe that I ever completely removed the armor and released the xenomorph because I don’t know how. The Asian man in the driver seat calls out to me to stop so I then bear down on him and remind him, in very close quarters, that I am the one who dances with the Gods.

I then find myself aboard a starship, in a sealed room with a restrained xenomorph in it, secured behind a windowed pod that slides up and down for study. I was working alongside several scientists in white smocks or gowns that all had a device resting around the top of their heads, just above their ears. It was a golden band of electronics that I guess was used for communication. Apparently, it was our job to communicate with the xenomorph, release it and tame it. We were all butchered. But it happened over and over again. As if after each failure, we were physically reconstituted through cloning and neurological technology and put back to our task. I believe it was the same xenomorph we were working with as well, which may give up on hostility once it realizes that it cannot kill us.

Finally, I’m observing an ancient temple from a disembodied perspective. There’s a hole in the floor of the temple, sand everywhere. A lion runs up to the hole in the floor of the temple and looks in, spotting two sheep who were walking up to the hole. The lion pounces in and, at first, I thought he was going to eat them. But the lion walks past them and they both turn to follow him into the underbelly of the temple. They walk up to a giant urn – about six or seven feet tall with an etched portrait of a xenomorph on the side. The sheep seem powerless to do anything with the urn, but the lion instinctively jumps on top of it, releasing some sort of pressure plate. The lion then hops down and begins pushing the urn towards a nearby ledge as the sheep join him in pushing it. I wake up as the urn smashes against the ground.