Video game I saw in a dream. It was in this low poly style like an older video game. You play as this character I think was meant to be a lamb, or maybe a weird mix of a lamb a mouse and a rabbit, (while not really looking like any of those things) and you’re running away from a wolf. Your objective is to last as long as possible before the wolf catches and eats you.
The house you’re running in is endless and bizarrely put together like most building interiors in dreams are (like the infinite toilet dream dimension on Reddit lol) the layout of the house is pretty detailed, you can stop and hide in places like closets or bins while the wolf looks for you, you can go up and down stairs and into rooms etc.
You never actually know where the wolf is or how close it is to you until it appears in your line of sight, it makes no noise and the game gives you no way of knowing where it is, and it’s pretty unpredictable it doesnt move at a consistent pace. When the wolf catches you there’s an animation showing it eating your character
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The thing about Sam is that he’s honest to an infuriating degree. Reese and I used to plan ‘surprise’ parties for each others birthdays with him just for the amusement of watching him try to lie his way out of direct questions about it.
Sorry if this is how he finds out about that, by the way.
It also means he’s direct. There’s never any question about what Sam means, or why he means it. There’s no ambiguity. I don’t remember enough about the world before the Rising to know if that ever bit him in the ass, but in today’s world, it’s an asset.
When he told us about becoming our legal guardian, that was exactly what happened: he told us what the situation was, what our options were, and the idea he’d had. Then he left it up to us to choose. No hard feelings, no strings attached.
The state-mandated therapy wasn’t something any of us chose, and also wasn’t something we could get out of. The first therapist we had didn’t like how dependent Reese and I were, and wanted Sam to put a stop to it. She even made some not-so-vague threats about dragging him to court over it, and making our new life as fucked as possible.
The problem was that she was one of those people that thought the zombies would pass. Even five years since the Rising began, she still insisted that all ‘this stuff’-- she never called it what it was, like doing so is what would make it real, not the corpses in the streets-- would go away and the important thing was making sure we’d be able to blend right back into polite society.
She even started suggesting I should move out, since legally I was well old enough, though that also meant she couldn’t make him make me.
We used to get ice cream after those appointments. I don’t know what kind of weird ass logic he had in his brain that you get the kids ice cream after two hours of them bullshitting their trauma, but that’s what ended up happening.
It’s funny enough now that I almost feel bad about the time I cussed him out about it being stupid. Almost.
He brought it up after a few minutes, being honest and to the point about what games the therapist was playing. I think Reese heard ‘separate’ and proceeded to shut everything else out; they were still defaulting to shutting up, and down, at the slightest chance of something being emotionally taxing.
I asked him what he was going to do about it.
Not, ‘what are we going to do’, but what he was going to do. I knew how the cards were stacked, and that despite being over 18 there were still some things I may not ultimately get a say in. He couldn’t make me leave, but I couldn’t make him let me stay.
Wouldn’t shut me up about it, of course, but at least I knew when fighting was pointless.
He looked at me, and was quiet for a moment.
Then he casually took a spoonful of his coffee ice cream, making a show of digging it out of the cup and said, “I think we should lie about it.”
He banked on the therapist caring more about the illusion of power she had, that if she forced enough people that didn’t have the option of fighting against her to do what she wanted, that it would eventually pay off and she would be proven right when ‘this stuff’ finally ended.
In short, tell her what she wanted to hear and she’d be happy enough with it she wouldn’t figure out we were playing her as much as she was playing us.
At the time, it took me by surprise.
Looking back, it shouldn’t have.
More importantly, it was the first time I remember thinking that maybe he actually did give a shit about us, and this whole situation wasn’t just some way he was trying to assuage whatever guilt he had about his time in the service.
The moral of the story kids, is this: just because someone presents themselves as being more powerful than you doesn’t mean they’re automatically correct. And if the most straight-laced, no-bullshit person you know is suggesting you do the opposite of what the people in power are saying to do, you should listen to them.
Also, coffee ice cream is still shit-tier.
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