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I am but a conduit for the verbal and musical expressions that the universe chooses to channel through my mind and soul.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Dream

"SOLDIER GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!!" I awake to the screaming of a man in green combat armor, holding his helmet in one arm and a balancing a gun in the other. I jump out of my cot and grab my guitar. Blue, stained with the blood of thousands of enemies, and yet it still plays like new. I put on my suit and run into the battlefield as my guitars form shifts into that of a gun. Pulling it apart into two identical firearms, I blast away at the first two machines that cross my path, hot oil covering my arms and chest as their mechanical limbs explode in a storm of hot metal and lead. I flip a switch on my guns and slam them back together as a blade sprouts from the barrel of what was once the finest gun in the library. Slashing through the forest to get at my enemy I am reminded again of what it means to be the Hero. The man I trusted most in this world, the man who taught me everything I know, is now my greatest adversary. Killing my father was acceptable, for he was a vile man and deserved what he got, but killing Elizabeth was to set an example. One that I hated him for. Years of serving in his army, of learning every tactic he employed, I was ready to make my move. I slam to the ground as something attacks me from above. Rolling over I see the bastard brother of my Heroic father. The bane of the colonies, my Uncle. Is this how it all ends? After spending a lifetime in a prison for a crime I didn't commit, a lifetime of training for this moment, I am to be wiped off the map by a sneak attack? No, I kick my unholy Uncle's legs out from under him and spring on top. Shooting off his hands and feet with my energy blasts, I am faced with a decision, do I kill the innocent boy, or turn my back on this life of hatred? I am the most wanted man in all of the galaxy, it's not too late to turn myself in. No, using my powers of creation I restore the boys limbs, smiling as he stands from his wheelchair. I turn to see the crowds cheering. The savior of the U.S. they call me. All of this made possible by a freak accident in my underground lab. Years I was kept in a glass dome, studied by the worlds greatest minds. The biblical, ethical, and political effects of letting me live were too great, so they thought to eliminate me. Tearing my limbs from my body, and burning them in hopes that they had finally killed the Wizard. These people are failures, and they deserve what is coming to them. Using my last bit of magic before my life ended, I called upon the forces of nature to reap my revenge. My arms and legs severely burned, I hear my love calling my name.
"James! James wake up!" I hear her, barely.
"Jane, Jane is that you?"
"Wake up James, it's time for school."
Oh shit, it was all a dream. Sliding out of bed I see burn marks on the ceiling, new scars all over my chest and god knows how many on my back. Burns on my arms, the palms of my hands are black and crackling with electricity. Looking at my face in the mirror I see my eyes are now a dark red. What happened last night?

Later Drones.