digitaldiscipline ◾ ◾ Weeeeeeird shite.

Inspired by

sabinenotagoth:

Until I gave up and realized i'm just not verbose enough to put 50k words together for a novella, much less in a month, i was going to do a dreamlog thing for nanowrimo.

that said, the last one i committed to type was a dilly (i tend to have vivid x-files episodes instead of dreams).

random chemical waste causes moths to mutate and get rather large (like, small cat to large wastebasket-class large). white moths, appearing to be spattered with glow-stick liquid, flitting about a sewer. researchers are studying them, accompanied by a dwarf/midget version of the youngest kid from 'malcolm in the middle' but with tourette's syndrome and a pair of 13 year old twin russian girls - one neurotically bookish and frigid, the other a borderline institutional nymphomaniac (one particularly vivid instance had her fellating the tip of Antarctica while taking Chile up the ass from a 3-d globe).

the moths, meanwhile, instead of pheromones, smell tasty. like really good french fries and hamburgers. I don't know what the evolutionary justification for that was - either to lure people to be eaten, or to encourage people to eat them as a vector for propagation, because in the dream i was running from one of the cat-sized ones, and woke up when it hit me in the middle of the back, and i could =feel= where it touched me, like someone had grabbed the back of my shirt against my skin. . . and i don't sleep in a shirt.