Dreamt that the entire planet was suddenly descended upon by a large collection of very bossy extra-terrestrials.

As usual when these things happen, the people of Earth were thrown into a frenzy of indecision about how to handle the arrival. Some people were freaked out, and some people were thrilled. All I know is that I was very confused about the whole affair, preferring not to take sides until I had some facts.

Turns out that the extra-terrestrials weren't particularly interested in my desire to hold out on judgment. They sent down about a bajillion (the term "bajillion" means "the largest number you can think of, plus one") small transport shuttles that we, the wee inhabitants of this planet, were supposed to board.

Each shuttle held about twelve people. These things were really small. I got on without making a big fuss because it was obvious that resistance was futile, etc.

The shuttles didn't have any windows, so we couldn't see where we were being taken. Didn't matter, though, as the trip was really short.

We disembarked from the shuttles and made our way to the observation deck of a space station of some sort that was parked somewhere near Saturn. It seemed that the billions of people who had been picked up by the shuttles were transported to different places, as there were no more than ten thousand people with me.

Anyway, if you've never looked out of the football field sized window of a space station with a view of Saturn, then you haven't lived. Freaky though it may have been, it was absolutely gorgeous.

However, we didn't get the view for long. We were led from the observation deck to another room which was completely pitch black - no light at all. When we were all inside, all the doors shut. A few seconds later, lights came on, and there was no trace of the space station to be found. The doors through which we had walked were gone.

Rather, we suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a large field in a place that resembled Colorado. Several miles out from where we stood, I could see hills that surrounded the place, which I later learned was to be our new home for a few years.

We understood that we were allowed to live however we liked, but that we weren't allowed to live beyond the hills. The hills were a border for our Colorado, and we weren't allowed to cross them. I'm guessing that it's because, just beyond the hills, we probably would have found that the horizon was just a wall, and that the sky didn't really stretch off in every direction. In other words, that our Colorado was really just a very large room.

So, some time passed. We were all fairly used to living in this place, as life was made very comfortable for us. During the initial weeks of exploration, we found farm houses scattered throughout the area. There were plenty of places to live, it was almost always sunny, and people were generally happy. It was, in many ways, a sort of utopia. People gradually began to forget (or just not care) how it was that we had come to be living in this place. It was home.

After a while, though, I got curious about the hills. I don't remember what set me off, but I decided one day to go inspect them.

I walked, walked, walked, walked some more, and just kept on walking for a while. Eventually, I came to the base of the hills. There was a forest that began at the bottom of the hills, fairly sparse at first, but denser at higher elevations (which is actually not how forests work in "real life," but this was a dream, so who cares). I decided to hike up the hillside.

My hike was mostly dull. Trees, trees, trees, and more trees. Much to my surprise, though, a ways into the hillside forest, there was a lone house. It was nestled in a small clearing.

I, quite naturally, decided to go inside.

The interior of the house was nothing special. In fact, given the strange circumstances of its existence, the strange thing about the house was that there was nothing strange about it. There was quaint country furniture throughout, doilies on chair arm rests, and an oval rug in front of the wood stove. It really looked like an ordinary house.

The thing that was a bit odd, though, was the strange noise I heard coming from the second level. My curiosity having been piqued, I ascended the stairs in search of the source of the auditory disturbance.

At the top of the stairs, I found myself in a hallway. At the end of the hall was a door. It was closed, but there was light pouring out from underneath, and I could see a shadow moving back and forth.

I approached the door, opened it, and wasn't exactly happy that I had done so. To describe the thing that was staring back up at me would be difficult. It was about a meter high, vaguely resembled a dog, but seemed to have armor plating over its body, strange tendrils growing out of its hide, and, for lack of a better word, just looked like a demon of some sort. The other odd thing about it is that it was standing on two legs. The hideous thing was a bipedal.

I didn't stick around for very long, opting to turn and run out the house the way I came in. The whole time I ran, I could hear the bipedal demon dog just behind me, keeping up with my sprint in spite of its short legs.

I darted out the door of the house, ran down the hillside, came out of the forest, and decided that I wouldn't try that again.

Not long after, something changed about life in the town. There was a sense of urgency that hadn't been there before. I got the feeling that everybody else knew something I didn't.

Whether they knew something or not, the town ceased to exist one day. By that, I simply mean what I wrote. A new day arrived, but the town didn't arrive with it. Instead, we found ourselves in a large room. The room was black, had very high ceilings, and white lines running along its walls, forming a grid. Placed on the walls at what seemed like random heights and locations were platforms that we couldn't reach.

We waited around in this room for a while, wondering what we were waiting for. We were obviously at the end of something.

Then, we started to grow. Actually, in retrospect, it could be argued that the room simply began to shrink, but I don't think that's the case. I'm pretty sure we were growing.

We grew until we were tall enough to touch the ceiling and reach out to the platforms. There was nothing on the platforms, and they didn't seem to have any particular use. I'm guessing that they were part of the technology that caused us to grow, but what do I know.

I got the feeling at this point that whatever the master plan was for us, it was sinister. It felt like we had been farmed, but for what purpose, I'll never know.

I woke up just before finding out...

After Blog Mint [?] :

Speaking of resources, Scott has a really nasty (and really short) story to tell you.