Dream of: 07 January 1998 "Mars"

A group of people, including myself, had been traveling together in a large spaceship from Earth and had just landed on Mars. After debarking the spaceship we discovered a spacious building and walked inside. As we searched for any inhabitants, we discovered what appeared to be a living being inside the building. The creature vaguely resembled a man, but also seemed somewhat like a robot. It moved toward us on large rollers, and didn't use the four legs which dangled from its lower body, nor the four arms which dangled from its upper body. The creature was so bizarre, it was difficult for me to grasp it. The features of its large bulbous head were so indistinct, I couldn't be sure whether the creature was a robot, or a living thing.

Some of the men in my group had ventured into another room of the building. Suddenly one of them rushed back into the room where I was and said that they had been attacked. I immediately pulled out my .38 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun and pointed it at the head of the creature. Suddenly the creature attacked me and we began struggling with each other. During the battle, the creature bit me on the index finger of my right hand.

The creature finally broke away from me and slipped away. I didn't shoot it. Instead, all the members of my group dashed back outside. We were able to breathe the atmosphere, although the temperature was quite cold. The terrain all around us was as white as snow. I thought the ground might be made of white sand.

We quickly encountered other members of our group who had unloaded a great deal of material from the spaceship and brought it to the front of the building. I couldn't understand why they had brought the material here and asked them what had happened. They informed me that the spaceship had been destroyed. Shocked, I immediately realized we were now stranded here on Mars.

Many people were gathered around, approximately one hundred, enough for a whole colony. Boxes and boxes from the spaceship were stacked all about on the white ground. Some backpacks were also scattered among the boxes. Seeing no other alternative, we began carrying the boxes into the building.

As I worked, I looked at my wounded finger. The skin had been barely broken, as if a tooth had just pierced the skin. I wondered if the creature might have had some kind of disease which he might have given me.

I also wondered what we would do now. I knew that everyone on the ship, including myself, was a comedian. Even I was puzzled that a shipload of comedians would have been sent to Mars. Now that we were stranded on Mars, with all communication severed with the Earth, what would we do? How was a shipload of comedians going to survive up here and deal with these Martians? The only thing I could think to do was carry things into the building and try to make the best of the situation.

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