Okay, so last night's dream = super weird. I was one of the Doctor's companions, and I was British. As the dream started, I heard/read a blog-like commentary saying that the dream was going to start strong but then get convoluted when I got carried off and stuck in another world that has nothing to do with Daleks.
Anyway, we were trying to fight the Daleks, whose spaceship—which looked kind of like those triangular ships (Imperial Star Destroyers—I just looked it up) in Star Wars because they were huge and light gray with all of these pipes and stuff all over the outside—was parked on some planet that may or may not have been Earth. C-3PO was with us, I think. Anyway, I volunteered to covertly fly onto the ship with my jet pack and check things out. I was wearing this skin-tight white suit that made the jet pack work correctly or something. (My body was way taller and hotter than my real one.) So I flew up to the ship and passed information to the Doctor and either Captain Jack or Amy's fiancé Rory through a comlink.
Suddenly, the Daleks saw me! "Ex-ter-min-ATE!" they yelled, shaking with rage and pointing their mechanical eyestalks at me. I jumped off the bridge and frantically tried to get my jet pack to engage as I fell. I guess it usually needs to warm up or something. As the uneven surface of the ship rushed towards me, I felt a jolt as the jet pack came to life, and I flew away. Unfortunately, I had scraped against one of the sticky-out bits of the Dalek ship (Star Wars ships always had lots of texture during the original three movies) and torn my suit. The jet pack started to sputter.
Just as I started to fall, a skinny red-skinned (I mean the color red) humanoid who looked kind of like those Avatar people except red (Can you tell I haven't seen it?) who could fly scooped me out of the air and flew me over the continent and half an ocean.
When the creature grabbed me, I heard the Doctor remark, "An Angel!" when he saw what was happening through his binoculars, so the alien race must be called Angels. (Except they are not the Weeping Angels.)
She took me to an island that looked kind of like a mix between Disney's Magic Kingdom, Happy Hollow, and Oompa Loompa Land. It was very sunny and filled with fanciful pinkish concrete forms, fountains, and little red children playing in the water. "This is the south part of my country," the Angel told me. She kept flying over that part to the north part, which was populated by little pink children (again, I mean the color pink) who were playing in a kids' amusement park. It had a light green carousel, a light orange Ferris wheel, a really tall red water slide (which looked kind of like a scaled-down version of the colossal water slide in this dream I had a few months ago about the Coronado Bridge and houseboats), and a slow pastel yellow roller coaster that was little more than a train ride.
The Angel gently placed me feet-first on the ground, said, "You're safe here," and flew off.
I think the island was like the island of the Lotus-Eaters because everyone was in kind of a daze, just riding the rides over and over. I somehow changed from my torn skintight jumpsuit to a touristy pair of linen shorts and a linen button-up shirt over a red t-shirt. Then, since I had nothing better to do, I got on the yellow roller coaster, which was called Moral Dilemma. (I'm not kidding.)
As my little yellow car climbed over the little hill, another roller coaster car pulled up alongside me. In it were two human men. I waved at them. They waved back and said something in German.
German tourists are everywhere! I thought to myself.
"British," I said, pointing to myself. They stared at me funny as we went around a curve. "English," I tried again, pointing to myself.
"Ah," said dark-haired German dude, "hello. Good morning."
"Hello," I replied.
"You . . . go to school and . . . college?" light-haired German dude asked.
"Um, yes," I answered, smiling.
They looked at each other and spoke German rapidly. My dream-self realized they thought I was fifteen and were arguing about who got to get with the cute teenager first. I wanted to correct their misconception about my age, but then I realized it would be rude to correct them when they were just learning English. They probably don't even know the word university, I told myself. (That was silly because I'm fairly sure the German word for university is probably university or something really close.)
Yet, in a way, I had lied by letting them go on with the wrong idea. That, I think, was the moral dilemma. Once I realized that, I woke up.
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