Tiny Buffalo Trace

It's been a whole ass week of dreams this Christmas week, most of them with Dorian in them, but non-antagonistic; as if we were just naturally together. I don't remember a whole lot about them individually (hence why I haven't blogged them), but the one I remember the most vividly was where I was in a brightly lit datacenter with an adjacent SCIF, and I had to install IRIX on some rack-mount SGI servers. Ernest was there to help locate space in the racks, and while he was doing that, I was tracking down power. Awkwardly, I had to shutdown the mainframe in order to use its wall socket. Only problem in, VMS isn't one of the operating systems I know. The mainframe was unusual insofar as I had to sit in the operators chair, and align myself to look straight through a magnified screen in order to see the prompt on the minuscule screen several feet away. None of the usual unix commands which are identical across all flavors of unix work on VMS so I was a little out of my depth, but I was also the only person there (outside of Ernest) who would be able to figure it out.

Later, I step outside on a break and there's a dangerous looking guy being threatening to a lady who was just trying to wash her car at the carwash. I stepped closer in order to intervene when he suddenly grabs her, turns her around, and slits her throat. I was frozen with sudden fear. I collected myself to duck out of sight, but it was too late - he turned his head, saw me, and came directly for me now. I began running for my life.

I must've eluded him because I was now at a sprawling building in the woods, where either Dorian or Lori was the proprietor, and were walking me around the grounds. This was fine and all except there was this small buffalo the size of a large dog chasing after me, head-butting me, and trying to hook its horns behind my knee to trip me up. I was not okay with this, and no amount of being polite while simultaneously trying to avoid being gored was helping. I kept jumping up and over fences, going behind doors and closing them, all to no avail.