It has been quite the while since I wrote down a dream. Not because I stopped having weird dreams, but because I’m flaky like that. But this one dream I had quite recently can’t just seem to fade. Hopefully it will once I’ve written it down.

Anyhoo… I’ve had this dream a few weeks ago, on a Sunday night. And like previous written down dreams, this one felt quite real too and it felt like I was awake but also not awake. Like, I was questioning the stuff that happened in my dream, while at the same time it felt like it was normal… If that makes any sense at all…

I’ll title this one;

Juno, the Goblin King

It’s late in the afternoon and I leave church to head home. Nothing out of the ordinary happens during my trip from church to the train station, my usual route from church to home.

But once I reach my hometown, it’s as if I had stepped into a time machine. My hometown was in an postapocalyptic state. The sky was filled with crimson smoke. Ruins everywhere, a lot of dusty broken roads. It kind of looked like Megaton, from Fallout 3. And in my dream, I don’t question my surroundings. I guess I must’ve played that game way too often, because bits of it keep reoccuring in my dreams. In the dream it feels as if I was quite accustomed to this ravaged state my hometown was in.

So I walk home from the train station. I finally reach the entrance of this underground district where my neighborhood is located. The sound of a grown man crying echoes throughout the underground neighborhood.

“Do not be afraid, my son is having a bath for the first time” it sounded.

I stop for a moment. A woman dressed like a nun rushes passed me. She notices the troubled look upon my face.

“Be careful, child. Those foreign new neighbors are crazy.” she says and swiftly makes her way out.

I take a deep breath and carefully continue onward. I pass the first ravaged underground house of the block. It has an endearing attempt for a front yard, with dead flowers and a fence with peeled off paint. A bald, very tall and miserably skinny old man of Arabic origin lies on the ground, a few footsteps away from the front yard.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Hello neighbor! Yes, yes I am fine. My son does not know his strenght, that is all.” he says with a heavy arabic accent.

On that moment, a younger skinny guy in his tweens stumbles out of the house. He looks a bit deformed, with a large head and his arms were largly out of proportion also. His appearance reminds me of a zombie or feral ghoul from Fallout3. The young feral man mumbles in a strange language, with tears rolling down his cheeks and he is foaming at the mouth.

“Go back inside!” the older man yells at the feral young man.

“Papa!” the young man cries.

“Oh, Allah help me!” the older man weeps.

Meanwhile, I am just quietly praying in myself for the both of them. And maybe it was because my prayer helped, or maybe the sight of the weeping older man gave the feral young man a change of heart. Whatever it was; within an instant the young man became quiet, turned around and went back into the house.

“We know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” I say to the older man.

The older man smiles at me as I help him back on his feet. I ask him if he needs help to get inside his home. Still smiling, the old man insists he is fine and that he can walk by himself. He thanks me, turns around and slowly limps his way into his house.

I walk towards my own house. Unlike my Arabic neighbor, my front yard doesn’t look interesting at all. Just a lot of dirt and dust. I approach my front door, turn the key in the keyhole and open it. Once inside my humble about in the post apocalyptic world, I notice that it looks a bit like an appartment in Tenpenny Towers. Maybe this is because I’ve played Fallout 3 way too often. Correction, it’s most definately because I’ve been playing a lot of Fallout 3. Infact, the picture displayed here is almost exactly what my house looked like in my dream.  Except in my dream, there was no TV.

There is someone else in my house as well; An animal that looks like a hybrid between a rabbit and a parrot.  It had the head and body of a rabbit, with long ears, yet with the beak of, wings and tail of a parrot. The creature can speak too. It welcomes me home with a song

“Welcome home! Welcome home! So nice to have you home. You’ve got mail! You’ve got mail!” the parrot-rabbit sings.

I pet the parrot-rabbit on its head. Then I continue to walk through the livingroom, towards my coffee table and the couch . There, I am about to sit down, when I notice an enveloppe laying on the coffee table. Scratching the back of my head, I grab the enveloppe in curiosity and tear it open. There’s a warrant inside. Thick black letters are warning me about a supposed Goblin King.

Suddenly, the parrot-rabbit sits right behind me and as if it could read it began to chant word for word what the warrant said.

“Watch out for the Goblin King! The Goblin King will come! He will come and take you, so run girl girl!” chanted the parrot rabbit.

The parrot-rabbit paused for a moment and looked behind him. With a loud bang, the front door flung open and an army of goblins barely the height of a toddler flooded my house, chanting along with the parrot-rabbit.

And then, I woke up.

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