Three nightmares

This is a quick note about three nightmares I’ve had recently:

The one in which Lex Luthor sent out carrion birds to eat my kidneys.
As odd as it might sound I dream about comic book characters once in every three or four years, I kid you not. It was, therefore, with great surprise that I woke up screaming in the middle of the night from very odd nightmare, in which I was tagging along the silver-age Hawkman and Hawkgirl as they set out to storm Lex Luthor’s secret laboratory or something. And to make things even dorkier, Luthor was teaming up with the Cheetah of all super-villains. I mean, god damn it, you’d expect the world’s smartest man to be a little more picky, right? Anyway.
So in order to stop the pinioned paladins (and myself, apparently) Luthor sent out this veritable cloud of flesh-eating birds (I’m not sure whether they were robot birds or actual birds); I vividly recall Hawkman boasting his body was treated to withstand the rigors of outer space or something very 1960s like that, so he wouldn’t really have to worry about it… just as the birds were pecking at me, rendering the flesh off my sides, eating away at my kidneys… tons of blood, gore, pain- then I woke up.

The one in which people were fused with animals, only to kill other people.
This one’s a pretty vague because it was full of lightning and stormy skies and explosions, and whatnots, and there was thing big blue glowing thing in the heart of the storm and it was merging people nearby with animals, and with stuff like cars and poles and etc, so that the people became like… these really weird, giant creatures with claws that killed and maimed people upon sight.
I did survive this one, though.

The one in which there was a centaur with the face of an old chinaman.
My subconscious mind definitely has to do more reading: I mean, it was supposed to be a dream about a centaur, and everybody in the dream referred to the creature as a centaur, only he had two animal legs instead of four, and his legs were like a goat’s; kind of like a faun if you really think about it. Also, he was Chinese and had white hair. A white-haired Chinese faun, for crying out loud!
And not only a white-haired Chinese faun, but a dead white-haired Chinese faun: The faun was dead and for some unmentioned reason what I had to do was, basically, to move the head of the dead white-haired Chinese faun from point A to point B, whatever, only S*tan wasn’t really comfortable with the idea. Yes, S*tan.
So I did haul the faun’s head pretty successfully, only it really upset this group of old ladies who were d*vil-worshippers; one of them clearly turned to me in the end and said, “We will enjoy t*rturing you in Hell for all eternity for what you’ve done to us, young man.”
“Well I’d like to see you try ma’am,” I told her with a proud, cocky half-smile, then I woke up.