I really like remembering my dreams – especially when I can misremember them enough to make a kind of narrative out of them.  The one I had last night might even make a good movie with the right kind of tweaking:

I was on the run with another 7 or 8 other people.  We were escaping from somewhere off-limits – a research facility or a government base – and we were being chased by people armed but unwilling to shoot at us, or at least at me.  We made it into the populated center of a city and either split up or were split up, and I found myself alone.

Clearly I wasn’t supposed to be alone, because once we were split up the other people I’d been running with spent more effort trying to find me than trying to escape, but somehow we never connected.  I didn’t really know who they were, though some of them I felt really wanted what was best for me, and some wanted to use me.  I could see myself as merchandise in their eyes.  Somehow they were always the ones who came closest to finding me.

I didn’t know who I was – not at first.  And I didn’t realize that the sense of wonder – the sense of release from the cares of the world – was anything unusual.  I wasn’t running from fear – it was a game.  Everything was a game, and everything was delightful.  Colors were bright, laughs infectious, and I felt like dancing.  I wasn’t normal.  I wasn’t even natural.  I was a fake human, an android, a simulacrum.  Did I have superhuman abilities?  I didn’t even know what the scale was to compare against, but I felt wonderful.

But I had a real personality – a name.  It was Eric, I think.  I had been a person once, I thought, but only fragments of memories hinted at it.  There was no sense of loss or mourning for the past, but it was a puzzle that delighted me to solve.  The face I expected to see in the mirror wasn’t the one I saw.  I found that face, the one I expected, and was surprised to find it still belonged to someone – someone named Eric.  He had no idea who I was, but after some deep excavation through his memories, he remembered – for the first time in years – that he’d been abducted 5 or 6 years ago.  The memory was hazy and bizarre for him, and he remembered it being very frightening, even more so when he woke up naked in an alley downtown.  But it was in his past.  Mine now, too.  An exciting, intriguing past.  Eric didn’t really want to have anything to do with me – he was the first such person I’d met.  How interesting!

Then I woke up.