This dream I had a while ago, but I'm still waiting on an interpretation. @W@ no one seems to be able to help me. ;w; It's really indepth, and might sound like a short story but it's definatly not. >< Thanks for the help.

The day was cold, very cold. Infact my troops wore thick leather and furs around their neck and faces to keep the frostbite away. We all sat together in a small ring, huddled as if we were penguins trying to keep the wind to our backs. The funny part was we weren’t outside at all. Rather in a small musky tank. The controls and alarms had been going off repeatedly for almost an hour before we decided to get on the road again.

I was captain. That’s what the men called me and that’s what I answered to. Captain. I was also the only female in the red-light of the tank. One thing I knew was that I was in charge and I took that for granted. When an order was made there was no second guessing. The order was an order and the crew would jump to their feet as soon as the words “fall out” had slipped from my mouth.

But today, on this very cold day we where searching for Leggers. Over the past five years all races, humans and elite alike had searched out the nesting grounds for these overgrown dinosaur like frogs. Leggers where mighty nasty. The Hobbled around on two legs, with a mouth that was almost the size of their entire torso. Unlike most Hollywood melodramas they did not have monsterous slathering teeth, rather evenly spaced little pointed teeth. The mouth wasn’t the part that would rip a man apart though, it was the feet. The powerful leg muscles grinding your bones together until they snapped. Leaving you with emense pain, but still alive for when the Legger decided to eat you piece by piece.

Leggers weren’t always called leggers though. They had a real, true-blue name once apon a time year and years ago before their release by the insane God fanatics. Legger were just premature dinosaurs brought to a time where people lay unsuspecting. Leggers just aquired their names because the only two limbs they have were the two mucled legs.

Leggers where brought to life by religion fanatics that believed their God had chosen this beast to cleanse the world of it’s sinners. They forgot one important detail about sin. We are all born with the original sin. Just by conceiving life you’ve created a sin. So it was no wonder that the first to go where the homes of young children that where not yet baptized. Many of the people that had let these creatures out had been the ones to perish.

That’s how I lost my religion sense. I realized that there is a sin in every human beings nature. If it really where an act of God to let these creatures go then he was only wishing to let them go so that he could clean up his own damn mistake. I wasn’t about to let this happen.

So I trained a few men, a few hundred. Refugees all of them. I trained them good. I trained them so that they could teach the next groups that had come in. I was their leader against this whole Armageddon crap. I would lead them. They would follow, they would follow me anywhere.

My best men sat beside me, freezing their asses of just as badly as I was. I urged them all forward into the Legger Nesting Grounds. Without fail we all started to experience Leggers flying off the tank windshield and shooting them with the cannon blaster and our own hand guns. We had gone nearly a mile in the rocky forest when all actions ceased. No leggers had chased us. No leggers had been attacking. But we could smell victory.

We could smell the rotting eggs on the tire-chains of the tank. It smelled of sulfur and rotting putrid goo. But it was a sweet smell to us and we absorbed every last bit of that gut-wrenching smell.

I was taking in the moment when all the men began to shudder and point, pushing each other out of the way to see something that stumbled and crashed in front of them. I had just about enough of the religion bullshit when my second in command whispered to me what the men where so damn excited about.

“The Wandering Buffolo,” He said in awe. “It is a sign from God, a sign of good fortune,” I wasn’t about to believe in God when we just killed the beasts that where sent by him to kill everything. “The men say we should follow it, it’ll bring us good fortune.” He said urgently as the boys became restless with anticipation. But I had to keep their minds straight.

“Why should we even believe in this s**t anymore!?” I yelled, my face scrunched together in a blurr of rage. “That little Fu(oh my bad word) had sent those things to kill US, now he is sending a message? Good job?” I stopped to catch my breathe. “I don’t give a s**t anymore, it’s your choice Bart,” I turned to my best man. His eyes glistened as we both looked at the men and took in their sorrowful expressions.

“I say that we follow that damn beast!” he said loudly raising his fist, the men all shouted in agreement. By this time I leaned over the ledge of the mouth of the opening to look at the buffalo closer. It was pacing, circling over and over and moving about restlessly. It had arrows sticking out of it’s visible rib cage. It’s face was haggard, puss and gunk dripped from the wound and from it’s eyes.

I began to second guess the latest order, but it was all too late. By some weird concidence as we rounded the corner I had fallen out of the tank and rendered unconscious.

I woke in an old broken down Chevy truck to the sound of whimpering pups and their b***h who was giving birth to a wide variety of breeds. I scooped them up one by one and made sure that they where alive and breathing. I identified three breeds, Labrador-> Springer Spaniel and German Short Hair Pointer. It was odd because the mother was a mutt. I pondered how she could possibly have a litter with more than one breed. But the thought was dropped like a rock when I heard the great tin doors to the enourmous garage open up.

From the opening was a silhouette of a man in overalls and a straw hat. He wandered over to me slowly and catiously. Looking to his feet as he took long swinging steps.

“You been out fer mi’ long darhlin’” he muttered in a thick farm-like accent. He looked around for a moment as if recalling the time that I had been “out”. “I reckon you be out fer dem near two of dem daylights.”

My mind was not on the strange new place, the b***h or the amount of time I had been out. But my mind had immidiatly turned to my crew. I just want to shout ‘damn the fu(oh my bad word)ers!’ But I kept cool and let out a long exaggerated sigh. “Oh really, what’d you find around me,” I asked slickly. I asked like a city slicker- the kind that sucks money out of farmers like him. It was enough to ensure that I would get a straight answer. But he never answered, him and his family of five were fascinated by the b***h and her pups.

I heard a hiss, a low tumbling growl. Then three short clicks, and I realized. Leggers. They where everywhere. This must’ve been the place that those damn F***ers went when we had ceased fire. I had no time to think, so I didn’t. I just began to shout orders as if these people where my crew. “In the back of this SUV now!” the family piled in, taking the b***h and her pups too.

I had hardly a second to find a weapon but I found a long lead pipe that I thought would suit me fine. I ran furiously to the back of the spacious garage and began to slaughter the sleeping leggers one by one until they all woke up and began to leap and scream. It was a blood soaked five minutes before I had stopped swinging the pipe. I realized that I had mercilessly killed every last one of them.

I dropped to my knees and looked to the sky. I just wanted to scream, “Why?” I didn’t understand if I was the one that was supposed to clean up his mess.

Soon I was surrounded by shocked clean faces. I was helped to my feet and all I could hear was little tid bits of ‘give her room’, ‘ hero’, ‘thank god’.

And my eyebrows locked together, thinking, ‘Don’t thank God, Thank me.’