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Shards from last night (or rather early this morning). This dream was very violent. A group of us have these complex machine organism like guns. They remind me of oversized hair dryers. The gun destroys anything with life, and can capture memory on them to learn to kill better in the future. There are rope-like thick metal tubes that branch out from the head of the gun into the middle, pod-like body encasing. There are 4 bunches of these, and they are fed by the energy of the living things we are killing. Unplugging them reveals the memory captures from the different lives, and in fact these metal ropes themselves are alive! Touching them and unplugging them make me uncomfortable.

The guns sizzle, and hiss, but they are not hot to touch, they are becoming more and more alive, awake, aware and evil as we use them. I am with 3 other people. One is a careless macho insensitive white guy, who seems to be taking much pleasure from our ventures. There is also an older minister (priest?) in black garb, big glasses, whose nervous shifting I am not fond of. He ogles at me with his big blue eyes. And the other is a silent woman, who looks to be a million miles away, hurting from some past incident or memory. Her face is always in pain.

We are confused because the guns memory capacities have been filled up, and must have been with junk and we don't understand how. The white guy takes a part one of the guns, and we all have to relive the memories captured by each of the tubes. The white guy grins through most of it, I can see that he is actually counting which marks were his. I am hugely uncomfortable, the anger that was present while I was making the kills is now gone and replaced by a cold and removed feeling. The priest, who is quite tall, is behind me and stuttering, begging us not to look through the guns. We wait until we have finished one of the tubes, and take out duplicate material and move to the next tubes. The next few tubes are not healthy, and they are spitting warning about the priest! They show the priest stalking me, and obsessing over pieces of me, hair, nails, sweat. I am horrified and we all turn towards the priest. He turns into a rage, and starts to attack me, and scraps of photos fall to the ground, with the backs covered with repetitions of my name in blue blurred ink. And more notes on me... I am screaming at the woman next to me to kill him, and finally grab her gun and kill the priest myself.


Pashmina Lalchandani
this is pashmina