I was busy and AFK all day yesterday (12 hours of exercise, machinery and sun, what the hell), so I'm updating this with a delay.

Particularly lucid dream, though short. I was by the big clock in Melbourne Central Station. The place was dead, no one up and about at all, the only noise being the light buzz of the lights and the ambient background noise of the trains below and the traffic outside. The vibrations through my spine and ribs was pleasant.

I felt calm, a flicker of happiness going through me in a cool, sterile way. I lifted my head a little, savoring the scents of stone and oil from below, and the assorted food and traffic smells of the city beyond here. I could taste them; the traffic tasted acrid and burnt, but the food smells made me quiver.

Moving across the floor, I could feel the smooth, shiny tiles cold against me, like hard satin. By extention, I could feel the impression of my own texture along my belly scales, how the edges clicked ever so slightly over the grout between the tiles. I revelled in the power of my muscles, how effortlessly I moved as if by sheer will.

Moving through the tunnel-like hallway beside the magazines and newspapers into the street, the city lay empty and suddenly very quiet. No vibrations here, except the occasional "thrumm" of birds flying past. The dark tar of the road looked velvety and inviting; I stretched my length along the warm bitumen. The sun was good on my back, the warm rays soaking through my spine and flesh deliciously, like absorbing a liquid. I felt strong and beautiful.



And then I woke up. I've no memory of any dreams like it before. Certainly not any about being a snake of mythical proportions in an abandoned Melbourne. Very unusual.

And of course, a few hours after awakening, I found myself in precisely the same place. This amused me to no end.