No Future

I'm turning this into a dream journal.  It beats bitching about the rich, or some mongoloid who came over and defecated on my floor before I discovered that the only way to get him to leave was to tell him that I was the fucking Terminator (all that happened, sadly.)

So last night, I was in a swamp amid the reeds and there was a locked tower not unlike a storm drain with these voices calling from behind the bars.  They sounded if not sweet then consoling?  I made up my mind to go into town and found out that the voices from behind the bars were these shape shifters from Canada of all places, and for the purposes of the dream, they were apparently interested in a rich bohemian scene full of wine and art.  Their shape shifting was beautiful in some sense, you could always tell where they were not from the stink of the sewer.  

They wore luminous blue and purples and reds.  The males were absolute assholes but the women seemed full of gaiety if not downright debauchery.  In the dream I was escorted out of one of their establishments by one of the grosser gruffer males but re-invited by some luminous being to share a beer, where I found out that they could represent others at will.  

It was pleasant until there were undercurrents of lust, where I promptly awoke.