Attack of the Lobster People

I got my first draft of my critical thesis in yesterday, and got the best night's sleep I've had in a week.

Except that . . .

. . . my best night's sleeps so often include epic dystopian dreams. In this case, it took place in an underground biodome in Chicago, in (inexplicably) 2004. The biodome offered superior air quality and economic opportunities to life on the surface, but it was also dominated by psychotic mutant lobster people. One bite from them, like a zombie, would transform you -- turning a hand into a claw, a spine into a tail, or your face into a spiny mask, depending on the location of the bite. It would also, to varying degrees, make you strong, physically dominant, supercool-stylish, and free of conscience.

The lobsters largely lived and let live, but they would occasionally go on rampages, killing and mutating at will, or they would sometimes hold a lottery of sorts in which they chose new recruits to join their ranks. Some people would offer up their loved ones as sacrifices to avoid being chosen. Others would campaign for the chance.

My "character" in the dream got offered up in this sort of sacrifice by a stranger who caught me hiding in a doorway. While other girls were begging to be changed, my lobster sire chose me for my reluctance, and we entered a love-hate lobster relationship. We bonded like soulmates, made out, and then I shot him in the shoulder.

I'm still teaching myself to write one novel, but I've got a dystopian nightmare story in me somewhere. I can't promise that it will include lobster people. Can't promise it won't.

Currently reading: whatever I please, for at least a day