Another Dream

Last night I dreamed I was a member of an occult superhero family.

There were just three of us-- Dad, his proper son Eric, and me, his "other son". He'd virtually adopted me when I was orphaned, and although I grew up with other foster parents, I was at his house all the time, and thought of him as my dad. My love for Eric was a little other than brotherly, though, and he returned the sentiment. Dad was perfectly cool with that.

We all had trained our psychic and occult abilities, but I was painfully aware that I was the weak point. Some trauma in my past would occasionally be triggered and leave me shaking and incapacitated, lost in memories I afterward couldn't recall. Dad was patient with me, but Eric was a little less understanding about it; we were both around 18 and patience is the virtue of the old.

(I just had to stop because a strange small object hurled itself from-- somewhere-- to land loudly very near me. It's a metal thing with a yellow resin top with the black lettering AMWA formed in a square. I looked it up; it looks somewhat but not totally like the logo of the American Medical Writer's Association. The object itself may be a pen component. Where did it come from and what does it want from me? I've never seen this thing before in my life and have no idea where it came from or how it got into my room, much less how it threw itself at me.)

Anyway, there was an attack of something, a runaway five decker bus, I don't know. I was working on controlling the bus while Dad and Eric got the people off, but anyway I couldn't manage it on my own, and I was busy being distracted wondering who in hell thought five decker buses were a good idea anyway, and when did those come about? I'd never seen one and everyone was acting like they were the most natural thing in the world. So Eric started helping me, and Dad got all the people off, and then since we couldn't actually stop the thing we redirected it away from people and habitations and eventually dumped it off a cliff. Well, Dad flipped out and yelled at Eric, and Eric yelled back, and then Dad cooled off and said grudgingly "Well, I guess it's conceivable you didn't know what you were doing," and Eric demanded to know what he was on about. Turned out we'd dropped the bus on a "Gypsy" graveyard. (Excuse me. My subconscious was being ignorant.) Eric was prejudiced against them, something that had been a big problem in our relationship since I was one. He said something pejorative and I felt threatened and shaky and then he apologized and comforted me, and I'm sure this would have gotten more interesting if I hadn't woken up. But in the interest of encouraging myself to remember my dreams I've written it all down here for your utter stultification.