I’m not kidding, this is a true story. I’m not this creative; but apparently, my subconscious is . Freud would have a field day. He would say that the robots represent my desire not to interact with real humans, that the flamethrowers represent my inner conflict, and that somehow all this translates into why I want to have sex with my mother or something. Freud was a sick bastard.

I was, of course, very disappointed with how Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles ended. I seriously think they ended Season 2 thinking they were going to get the go-ahead for Season 3, considering the gaping holes left behind. (And what the hell was up with John Connor molesting his Terminator?! That was super weird. >.> ) *sigh* Oh well. I’m hoping that Terminator: Salvation will fill in some of these holes, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Maybe if I get some resolution and closure, I’ll stop having these bloody dreams.

One thing I’ve learned from these dreams, though, is that I’ve found that I really like having robot friends. I think growing up with Voltron, Transformers, Robotech and Terminator, combined with lack of playmates as a child has given me the predisposition to be attracted to this idea. If I had any resource or any remote knowledge of artificial intelligence, I would totally build myself a robot friend–not in the Weird Science sort of way, but more in the South Park AWESOM-O kind of way.

Who’d need real friends?! =P