This happened a couple of years ago, during a very unseasonable heat wave we had here in New York. Temps in the 80s and 90s, long before anyone was prepared for it. We had to do all we could to cool off.
One day in particular I recall lying on a lounge chair in the backyard, enjoying what little breeze there was, hoping for a sudden thunderstorm for a little bit of relief but no such luck at the moment.
Eventually I fell asleep and dreamed that I had somehow caught on fire. I was calling out for someone to come put out the fire, because I was unable to move, not to roll around or even just to open my eyes. I figured that maybe I was asleep or something, because I’m sure that if I were really on fire adrenaline would help me to be able to move no matter what kind of shape I was in.
Anyway, I was lying there burning up, and all of a sudden I felt these streams of water shooting into my face. I opened my eyes to find a green plastic water pistol hanging about a foot away from my face, spraying away.
“OK, now I *know* I’m dreaming,” I thought. But the water on my hot face felt so good that I didn’t care where the relief was coming from. After a couple of minutes, though, I felt kind of silly lying there with a wet face, so I rolled over and said, “OK, that’s enough,” in the general direction of the water gun. But whoever or whatever was causing this thing to spray me wasn’t paying any attention. Well, they *were* paying a little attention, I guess, because they began directing the spray further down, at my clothes rather than my face. I began wondering just where all this water was coming from; after all, a little water handgun can only hold so much. “Come on, stop,” I said, trying to shield myself from the water. But when I put my hands out in front of the water gun, it just floated up and over my hands and went back to shooting at my face.
“All *right,* now,” I added, reaching for the gun. In my haste to redirect the water flow, though, my arm swept right past the gun into… empty space. *Empty space?!* Empty space can’t go around shooting water at people! But this gun was just hanging there in space, shooting away. Attempts at knocking the water gun away were like swinging at a tied balloon; no matter how hard I hit the gun, it was drift a certain very short distance away, then float back to its previous location, all without a pause in its spraying.
Finally I decided enough was enough, and just grabbed the thing and pointed the nozzle away from me. And it was the weirdest thing; there was no resistance of any kind coming from the gun as if someone were trying to take it back from me, but rather no matter how I held it, it kept pointing itself at me and spraying. Not seeing how I had any other choice, I put the water gun on the ground and stomped it solidly with the heel of my right shoe, splashing my left sock in the process. I couldn’t figure out how a little water gun could hold enough water to soak me like that, but no matter. It was over.
Or so I thought.
I wasn’t in the mood for any more shenanigans, so I went back inside to veg out in front of the TV, with the a/c going, of course. About an hour later, though, there was a knock at the front door. I looked outside and didn’t see anyone there, so I went back to my chair. As soon as I sat, though, there was more pounding at the door. I looked and again didn’t see anyone, but the pounding resumed while I was standing there. I opened the door and didn’t see anyone there… at eye level. What I did see, though, floating about an inch off the porch, was two SuperSoakers. I did a double take at the sight, which seemed to be their signal to begin blasting me. I ran through the house to get away from the barrage, to little avail. Wherever I ran, however fast I ran, they kept pace with me. I even took a running leap over the couch, but it was no obstacle for the pursuing water weapons. Strangely enough, though, there was no sound of footsteps accompanying the assault, as though I were being chased by invisible assailants. It was almost like the guns were charging me of their own accord.