The Engineer (The Dream Factory)

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See “The Dream Factory” for a full list of my shared dreams.

I dreamt this one night in February 2007.

In this dream, I’m back in college and this guy offers me a ticket to the Super Bowl. The Seahawks are in it (this is a year after they lost in the Super Bowl to the Steelers), and the game is in Seattle. However, due to circumstances beyond my control, I miss the game. Then the guy who gave me the ticket comes back and is upset that I didn’t go. He had wanted me to ask around about “the engineer” while I was at the game. Apparently, this engineer guy designed this crystallized weapon that’s supposed to be extremely powerful—The Engineer is his handle.

Now, this guy who gave me the ticket, he works for some company that seemed to think I knew the identity of The Engineer—only, I didn’t. That didn’t stop them from trying to get the information out of me, however. They didn’t hurt me, but they were pretty persistent.

Then, one day, a beautiful girl I didn’t know started flirting with me out of the blue. She also kept asking about The Engineer. She said the ones from this company who were asking about him were bad people.

Later, when I ran into the guy again, he claimed that she was the one with bad intentions and that I shouldn’t trust her.

This proved to have some merit, for a few men identifying themselves as her employees, cornered me in an alleyway and beat on me a little.

Next I came across this old man who said he raised me until I was just past infancy. This made enough sense to me to be believable (at least in a dream), because I was adopted as a baby. He said that the identity of The Engineer was written on my scalp under my hair and that I was chosen to keep the secret. Since I was injured, he told me that I would have to see The Healer, and he led me down the street to a giant library.

The healer stood behind the front desk. He was a very tall man, about 6-feet, 8-inches, and had a very deep voice. The other folks in the library called him “Roy with his wart,” and soon enough I realized that his wart referred to his moronic assistant.

That’s all I really remember. I do recall being in trouble and someone picking me up in a flying car. The car was so small, though, like the size of a power wheel for kids.



About authorphilpartington

Phil is a writing enthusiast of many years, having been published in numerous online and national print trade and sports publications over the past decade. He has spent the past five years delving back into the world of fiction writing, focussing on the fantasy, horror and suspense genres. Deshay of the Woods is his first novel.
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