Dream
I just wanted to type in a dream I had last night. The thing that i guess surprised me was that it was a lot more consistant than my other dreams usually are. Usually I'll be walking into a room with a person and then all of a sudden that person will be Martin Short or something. Okay, on with the adventure!!! (Dun dun DUUUUUNnn)

The first thing I remember was that I was in a library. I suppose I was on a lower floor of it, so it was pretty large. The walls were a clean white and tall mahogany shelves leaned against them, filled with all different books. These books looked more like those photography books, or at least those ones that are much larger in length then novels are.
A classmate, named Erin Young, was with me, looking at one of those large books. I was just sitting there when a tall man dressed in black robes and a back turban walked towards us. He had dark skin and a beard,and his dark eyes were stern yet interesting in a way. He offered to show us around a bit, and Erin and I took up the offer. We followed him around through the whitewashed corridors, where the bookshelves where growing a bit more scarce then they had been on the lower floor.
He started speaking about different kinds of religions. All I remember is that one began with "R", and sounded very Arabic or Islamic.
We came upon an elevator, where we had to wait for people to get out. Erin was gone by this time, gone to the place where disappearing people in dreams go, I suppose. There was a large black woman behind a wooden desk next to the elevator. The rest of the room was completely made of polished granite, with a few of those bright green fake decor plants in the corners.
I got in the large elevator, where black man and a few other people joined me. Apparently the elevator was capable of taking you to different countries. The man I was in the elevator with said a high number, but the lady at the desk who was controlling it laughed as the doors closed and said "Kenya here they come."
"No!" the man shouted. Then he started muttering complaints about how he didn't like Kenya's police station or something. Kenya was apparently located in the "basement" of the building. We arrived and walked through a departure-and-drop-off station place. I guessed this was the police station thing the man was talking about, because there were police roaming around, and it fit what an older-looking police station might look like.
The walls were painted a tannish-orange color, and judging by the lighting the inside was getting, it looked like it was dark outside.
Then I was sitting under a window, my back against the wall - it seemed I was behind a desk or chair or something, and was seeing from the point of view of the black man I had met in the elevator. I was telling someone how you would be sitting somewhere and then all of a sudden people would throw things like paper balls at you. Just then I heard a rustling in the blinds above me and looked up. A hand was sticking through, holding a paper ball. It dropped the crumpled peice of paper on me, hitting my forhead. Quite a few other paper balls followed after that, until I grew quite annoyed. I don't remember doing anything to whoever was dropping the paper, it was just annoying.
Outside of the building and throughout the country there was a war going on. I remember there was an older man and his daughter who's house had been taken over by a few drunken enemy soldiers. The daughter offered bravely to go and distract the soldiers or something while her father, who was a veteran, gathered a small militia to ambush the soldiers and take back what was rightfully theirs. The father didn't want his daughter to go, but in the end he decided it was best, and let her.
I then saw from the point of view of the daughter, who was hurrying through a foresty swamp-like place. Daybreak was coming because there was a dim bluish light about. I remember as I seemed to float through this area, there were these two old wooden swings that hung from a tree branch. People were running all around the area, and I suppose they were running from enemies or evacuating the area. Whenever you got close to the swings though, these two eerie transparent children would appear, their eyes wide and staring, their mouth set sternly. They were dressed in older clothes, and I remember one was a boy. However I do not remember what the other one was. Right away it was obvious they were ghosts of some sort, though their story goes no further than that.
Once again my point of view changed. I was back to being the black man, and I was running through a field of enemy soldiers. I suppose they didn't really consider me a threat, or maybe they were distracted, because none of them actually shot at me. However they did chase me. The weird thing was, I would spit on them, and the body part I would spit on would literally cave in. Then, from that same area, bullets would fire. I remember one soldier who was chasing me. His face was dirty and his uniform was a dark brownish green, and he had a heavy London accent, I think. I spit and it landed in his mouth. He stopped in his tracks and a sickened expression came over his face as he accidentally swallowed. Eyes widening, he screamed and writhed on the floor until, with an utterly sickening bubbly gurgling noise, his throat completely caved in, also creating a bloody mess. A second or two later, bullets came flying out of his open mouth. One hit a fellow soldier's gun, which exploded, seeming to create a chain reaction with the other soldiers, killing quite a few.
My point of view once again switched, though I was now seeing through the old veteran father's eyes. The sky was darker, and it seemed to be sunset, thought the it was more of a reddish black than anything else. I was peering upon a small little run down cabin. It appeared to be one room and had a tiny porch and overhang outside the front door. The lights were on, though you could see no movement. I remember cringing at the thought that those soldiers were living comfortably in my home, probably making a mess and even destroying it. I was dressed in my old uniform with a machine gun on the mound of dirt in front of me. My men I knew were posted around the area, hidden behind trees and boulders incase anyone came out of the cabin for any reason. I began contemplating how I was to raid my own home. I didn't want to destroy my own home, and it was a tough decision because I didn't want any of my men to die either. I was about to say "ready..." to go, but then I woke up.

An odd dream it was, though quite interesting in my opinion.

2 did | Go fuck yourself