I’m writing this dream down in the hopes that I will have more dreams like it, and fewer of the parental issues ones (I have lots of them). I actually had it a couple days ago, but I’ve been keeping as much of it in long-term memory as possible.

—

There were the warnings. First, a chill running down your spine; then, flashes of fluorescence and swiveling colors on the flanks of fish in the local pet store where Crimney was observing poisonous tree frogs.

We didn’t know what the warnings meant at first until the waters of the nearby lake churned and one of Cthulhu’s cousins emerged, rivers streaming down its tentacles, and its scaly skin a terrible grey-green that made you think of the squirming things you found beneath moist rocks. The stink was that of a fish-market gone to rot, maybe hundreds of them all at once.

The library was the only place it made sense to flee to. And so we did, with a tank of fish in tow, their colors rippling less the farther we got from Cthulhu’s cousin.

I had been trained by a wise old woman in the arts of Nerf gun handling, and had two large rifles made of real metal, along with a couple of Mavericks cast from steel. Nerf material is deadly to aquatic species; Nerf darts turn into orange arrowheads, video-game like, when they strike.

She was at the library, and had little advice for me, except to remember that, since they were only semi-automatic, to use the rifle as a blunt instrument when necessary.

The library basement housed Fantasy Flight Games components, so that we could learn, from black-and-white prototype cards for Call of Cthulhu, what was coming down the street. I picked up one, and I remember it turned into a full-color glossy of fish changing their colors.

Upstairs, Cthulhu’s cousin had opened the door to the second story, enormous four-pointed pupil backed against yellow right up against the door.

I fired the first shots and emptied out the rifle. Their sharp tips dug into squalid flesh.

The monster recoiled in pain, but only briefly, before it lashed out towards the door again.

So I beat it with the rifle several times, then fell back behind a low bookcase. I forget what Crimney was doing. Probably something to do with rituals, or playing a card game that had come to life, but I was focused on doing some damage. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else when a monster is thrashing outside your window.

I kept firing, and reloaded only with difficulty, thanking the stars that I had multiple loaded weapons, and two of which could deal melee damage.

Eventually, whether through the gathering of elder signs or the barrage of Nerf darts, the monster cried out, thrashed one last time, and disappeared in blinding white light.

Relieved, we hugged one another, and headed out to enjoy the day.

Unfortunately, another one emerged from the lake. But we knew how to deal with it.

And so we did.

—

I put this dream down to too much Elder Sign: Omens.

It’s sunny and nice out, and I think I’ll go have lunch, then come back to sleep, and repeat for dinner. Unfortunately my Maverick (not made of steel) is at the office, being hopefully moved to my new quarters.