Speak Softly and Carry a Nine Iron

I actually dreamed this over a month ago, but I feel like I can still recall enough to tell a pretty decent story.

I was living in a broken down Florida resort that had been thebomb.com once upon a time. It was one of those golf resorts by the beach that older retired folks like to frequent. Anyway, no one lived there except me, this older Jamaican lady with magical powers, a SUPER creepy white trash dude that leered at pretty young girls, and some nondescript twelve-year-old boy. We all more or less lived in peace--with the exception of the white trash dude always trying to make moves on me.

One day, despite my best efforts to avoid him, the white trash creeper had had enough with my coy games and decided to rape me. However, seeing that our home used to be a golf resort, I decided that I'd also had enough of this nonsense, which promptly led me to pick up the closest golf club to begin beating the WTC to death.

Having nearly finished him off, I stopped short of actually ending his life. Knowing that he could heal if I left him alive, I hopped on a bus instead and got as far away as I could. Trinidad, in fact. On the way to Trinidad (the bus could fly, for the record), I fell in love with Alex, the deeply attractive Trinidadian bus driver who reciprocated my feelings wholeheartedly. As we fell in love, a physically handicapped guy and the twelve-year-old from before joined our posse. Everything was going wonderfully--until the magical Jamaican lady showed up.

Apparently, said lady was an oracle because she pronounced a vision of the future. She said that the next baby to come to Earth would either find its home in my womb (implanted by Alex) or in the womb of some girl that the WTC got to. We needed to act quickly because this baby was going to save the world!

Despite our intense love for one another, Alex and I were still just shy enough that saving the world through consummation didn't quite seem like the most natural thing on the planet. While thinking it over, we took a walk. At one point, we turned a corner--

to run right into the WTC. Healed, but horrendously scarred and angry, he had a golf club and a mean plan in store for me for mutilating his face.

Thankfully, it was at this point that I woke up.