I dreamed that I was a professional photographer, and with other women photographers, I was being targeted by a stalker. Somehow the stalker was manipulating my camera so that every so often a picture would print out with a bite mark across the corner, and, "You will be next!" written in the stalker's blood. The blood was even real, and could be analyzed for DNA, but the stalker wasn't in the system.
When we all found out the same weird thing was happening to us, the other women and I decided to start a support group. We went to meet in Fondren Library, on Rice campus. I was running late, though, and as I got off the elevator on the floor we were meeting on, there was an explosion, and everyone came running, and we evacuated.
I decided to just go on to my next appointment, which was a film class I was taking. I got to the darkened lecture room a bit late, and slipped into the front row, where my seat was. No one said anything, though. The film they were showing was an animated short by a friend of mine, and I thought I recognized myself in one of the characters.
When the lights came back on, the professor asked if anyone knew what corn would look like if it hadn't been genetically modified (i.e. bred for certain qualities over the centuries). I was the only one that knew that corn would be, like, five tiny kernels on little spike of a cob, and pretty much useless for sustaining many people.
After class, my sister wanted to go down to the beach, so we got on a little soapbox car and began rolling down the streets. We knew we were getting close when the concrete barriers and fences and walls were hidden under sand-mud nests built by amphibious crustaceans. They looked like shrimp about five inches long, but narrower throughout their bodies, and they were gray with vivid streaks of magenta and turquoise, that pulsed brilliantly when they were frightened or agitated.
We got to the beach just as a big wave came in and got all the little children wet up to their hips. One of them was my friends' younger son, and he came crying to me that his best pants were now soaked, and could we please go somewhere to dry them off. Then I woke up.
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