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Dreamed 1995/3/30 by Chris Wayan

I'm climbing around the upper floors of a big maze. Where it has floors, I mean--where pits don't yawn.

People are hunting me. Oops, here they come--firing arrows at me.

My main enemy is a vampire with great magical power. All I've got is armor. I'm covered in dreams--typed ones, computer printouts inches thick. Sound flimsy? It's so thick, it's better than Kevlar! Their arrows stick in till I look like a pincushion, but they've hardly nicked me inside my shield of dreams.

I bluff that it's some mysterious power, yell mockingly "You've met your match, vampire!" And... the idiot buys it! He COULD have stomped me like a bug. Just one match, and my whole suit would burn.

But he backs off, afraid his other powers will fail him like his arrows did. Doesn't want to risk it. HA! I bluffed Mr. Fancy Fangs!

I wake, pleased that I outsmarted that bastard with nothing more than a bit of paper. No, be fair--with dreams. They felt flimsy, but they did the job!


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