Dreams

I'm in London, as it seems to be an appropriate location for this sort of thing. Dinosaurs are rampaging through the city, which not only fails to surprise me, but has a ring of boring inevitability to my dream-logic-addled mind. I'm shooting through the air in a jet-pack because (of course) I am an immensely famous person, and I therefore happened to be performing an incredible aerial acrobatics show that somehow advertised some brand of men's perfume I don't care about when the outbreak hit.

This is all really, REALLY cool.

I'm flying low now, zooming scant metres above the devastated streets and weaving between the skyscrapers of the London CBD as savage reptilian heads extend from their windows in explosions of glass and the entrails of unfortunate window-cleaners, grabbing and slashing at me as I dodge them with an air of mocking confidence.
Seriously, why aren't more dreams anything like this?

I bank upward, angling my berocketed-legs towards the ground and willing myself into a sky of utter empty whiteness. Everything freezes for an instant as I stand suspended, then what seems very much like the universe explodes beneath me and I'm shooting upward, arcing lightning and all traces of my past despair trailing behind in a blinding shower.

Looking down, I notice that the universe hasn't actually exploded after all. London stretches out for miles all around me, waves of prehistoric death machines flow through the streets while scaly titans lay waste to any buildings that their claws and tails and teeth can reach.

Central in my field of vision (as conveniently as one would expect given the circumstances) is my target. An armored body built with focused destructive purpose blitzes its way through apartment block and shopping mall and suburban palace alike, its gargantuan tail sweeping flat anything its clumsy claws couldn't finish in a fashion of sadistic perfectionism. As I swoop towards the beast to get a better view, its eye, pupil twisting and narrowing like an organic targeting reticule, meets mine. We begin.

I enter the storm of whirling claws without a second thought. Titanic blades of bone seem to fill every inch of air I'm not occupying. I'm dodging, knowing everything there is to know about the life I've taken on and how to preserve it. I duck and kick upwards, falling under a twirling tail and shooting just out of reach of the following jaws. I take the offensive, gliding as close as I can to the now exposed belly before turning my feet towards it and blasting in the opposite direction, the force of my launch sending the behemoth reeling backwards.
Sensing my chance as the beast steadies itself, I swoop upwards-upwards until everything that seemed huge and horrible in the world, the beast most of all, is revealed to be insignificant in comparison with my littlest finger. I know it's time to dive and I do, the air around me inexplicably filling with a plethora of barely glimpsed colors as my descent quickens towards its climax. I quickly spin, realign my body and divert power to the rockets in my palms: streaking towards my adversary in a blazing diagonal kick. There's an inferno in the palm of my hand now, its blue heart pumping masses of white flame into the now burning heavens. The beast turns to see its death approaching with a familiar eye, which before my boot plunges into it, witnesses the air itself cracking in submission to my velocity. In its final throes, the beast angles its fatal entry point directly upwards, whining with barely an echo of its former ferocity before I, in grim satisfaction, divert all power to my now deeply-embedded foot.

Bang.

I'm propelled upwards with the speed of a hell-bound erinyes, flaming shards of skull and spine initially surround me before disintegrating under their own force. A world of joy swells in me as my ascent peaks long after the extent of the galaxy opens up to me. My peaceful but brief descent is rewarded with a city cleansed of its reptilian horror (for in my mind, in this world, the battle has ultimately been won, and the other murderous dinosaurs have been dismissed as unnecessarily pedantic). I've won, everything feels amazing. I've won and I'm a hero and I can fly and I'm happy and I've done the most fantastic thing I'll ever do and none of this is real.

My eyes pop open and I'm in my bed looking upwards at the filthy Grey, impenetrable ceiling of my dorm.
"Well. That's that then," I mumble; turning over and going back to sleep.