Yeti Tracking

Sometimes my dreams reach a certain level of vividness that amaze me.  They feel as if they last for days or weeks.

Last night I was deep in the Crimean wilderness heading an expedition to track and study the effects of global warming on the local Yeti population.  We hiked for days through waste deep snow and biting cold to rendezvous with an elusive hermit who was an expert on the matter. His cabin was full of yeti artifacts; bones, fossilized poop, and fur.  We reached a tattered fence that was the boundary to their habitat, a fence the hermit warned us not to cross.  Some jerkoff on my team crossed it anyways and was promptly ripped to shreds by a female yeti.  He shot the yeti in the process, which triggered an entire herd of the beasts to come charging at us.  We retreated to a local bar, where a group of drunken revelers took turns trying to dance with the raging yetis.  They were all ripped in half in their attempts, but nobody seemed to notice.  I finally managed to appologize to the alpha-yeti, through a series of grunts and hand gestures.  They left the blood soaked bar and went back to the mountains.

I awoke, and looked at the clock.

1:30 am.

I had only been asleep for 2 hours.