I had a dream of thousands of dog tags swaying in the storm.

I was in a very detailed FPS shooter and forcibly male. I faced other such stylized males and I felt them approach, stalk up on me, in a deserted and ruined Abu Dhabi, and kill me. I experienced being shot, and then I was back in the deserted cityscape of Abu Dhabi, and it happened all over again. And in this realm I was not alone. After a set number of iterations (instantiations) the ruined city was fully of the well toned corpses of special ops killers like me, in an assortment of grizzly states – shot, dismembered, shredded, fallen from high distances, stabbed, crushed with cars or heavy machines, gored, eviscerated or burned to a crisp.

I glimpsed my ‘own’ dead body several times. Sadly it wasn’t mine.

The stench was unbearable – why didn’t in this nightmare the dead unrez? Why didn’t the place get cleaned up and sanitized for the next round of killings? It was just horrible.

But then I woke up in my own body again, in that other realm were the dead conveniently go away, where once dead you don’t have to do it all very again and where nobody has a well-toned special ops masculine physique, and we just go on directionless with our lives.

Like dog tags swaying an a storm, tapping into each other.

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