The Pig Warrior Dream

Published 2009 August 5

I am moving from metal strut to strut in a large structure shaped like a helicopter. Other low-flying Apache war helicopters are flying inside, their rotor blades swung forward, chopping the air, searching for me. I manage to reach the opposite side of the structure and lower myself under a table. Amber is with me.

Looking back the way I came from I see a shape foraging beneath the struts. It notices me suddenly and begins to run toward the table. I move to the side where a corridor free of debris forms a line between myself and the monster I now see clearly: an armor-clad pig warrior, running on its two hind legs.

I have some sort of gun shaped like a hose which I point at the creature and fire repeatedly. It has no effect. The pig is almost on me and I realize I must kick it. I kick as hard as I can—CRACK!

I wake up with a noise and jolt. My right foot is planted between the bed’s wooden railings. It hurts, but nothing seems broken.