Memorial day

I had a strange dream about men with cybernetic hands made of yellow sand, pretzel rods, and rusted rebar. They were in a first-person shooter environment. I was. There were three bad guys - a tall hollow-faced one, a broad-shouldered troglodite, and a supernormal business-man. I tried to attack them on a bushy desert plain. But they weren't hurt, only annoyed and I ran away, but of course they found me. I thought that they were going to kill me and I was afraid that it was going to be painful, but I was resigned to it because running from them was so terrifying. But it turned out that they were actually bodhisattvas, that they were good and it was me who was the bad guy. And they said that the game was over, and it didn't hurt at all, the desert switched off and my character was in a blinky nintendo-game-colored flat background. And some of my fingers were taken away and replaced by pretzel-rods and rebar because I had injured the world and so had destroyed myself and my ability to do good. It didn't hurt but it was shameful. And I was reborn in a different branch of the multiverse, where men had created a much more ideal planet, a green planet, by borrowing against good by burying a network of huge radioactive heavy-water-filled tubes deep in the earth. Deuterium? Tritium? And I was not myself. I opened the one tube gate that met the San Francisco Bay. And for a split-second I could see twisted creatures in the sharp crystal water through a round window, the gravity-defying vertical surface of the heavy-water tube. Then it exploded outward into the ocean, and millions of see-through men ran away from it, running on top of the water, but the heavy water came in an exploding wave and swept around the tiny planet, around the cities on the shore, swallowing all the creatures I had seen in turn, and lastly the three bad guys. And the earth became a perfectly featurless nintendo-game-colored sphere floating in an empty sky. And that was all there was because I was the sphere.