• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views




    View RSS Feed

    Recent DJ Posts

    1. Ruth

      by , 02-11-2018 at 03:12 PM
      Few days ago had fallen asleep and dreamed within the half hour or so I slept.

      Dream had me going into a house that I realized wasn't mine.

      I was seen and called "Ruth". (( I know NO ONE in my waking life by the name of Ruth. Not reading or watching anything with anyone named Ruth, )). I don't think I was Ruth. I think I was being mistaken as her.

      There was also another girl there who was supposedly a sister named maybe Daisy? Fuzzy.
      Tags: names, ruth
      Categories
      memorable , dream fragment
    2. Sleeping Beauty in the abyss

      by , 01-04-2016 at 04:48 AM
      During a string of fairly uninteresting dreams, I escaped out a window and found myself lucid. I was looking at a dark mountain range in the far distance, and hearing a voice saying "Aurora, awaken." Aurora apparently was me, which I thought of as an odd choice of names; I associated it with Sleeping Beauty. I thought of this place as the abyss. I attempted to create a bridge, but found I was altering the scene as a whole instead of individual elements; I saw scenery representing my bedroom around the edges of my vision. I stopped the attempt to alter the scene and exited back through the window instead.
    3. The Computer Lab

      by , 11-01-2015 at 04:17 AM (Dimension X)
      I've made it a goal recently to find out who or what exactly the wolf that protected me in my previous dream "winter wolves" is. There was something significant about it, but I can't put my finger on what it was. It surely didn't seem like a normal dream.

      In a normal dream, the pack of wolves would have killed me without a doubt. There wouldn't be one particular white wolf protecting me from the others. It's too out of the ordinary for my dreams. I need to find out what the significance of it was. Ahem... Now on to my recent dream.

      I was in a school computer lab that was a basic square shaped room. It was pretty small, and had about 20 computers total. Each computer was up against the wall on a table and they went all the way around the room. There were a couple people with me in the room and I remember random videos starting to play on a bunch of the computers so I paused all the videos and was suddenly commended for doing so, even though it wasn't that big of a deal. 4 computers had a video playing on them. I remember a few names of some people. One person was Mikey, who was actually someone in a video, and the other was Uzo... I think he was in the room. There were a bunch of other names, but I guess my dream recall hasn't improved enough to remember more than maybe 2 words from any of my dreams.

      I have to start making a list of dream places to revisit, as well.

      Also, Happy Halloween.

      That is all.
      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. A curse in a pot

      by , 07-30-2015 at 06:25 PM
      From a disembodied perspective, I'm watching my IRL self. He's looking for something in this room, currently looking at an illustration of Loki hanging on a wall. The disembodied version of me is curious about the IRL version of me, and I've set up this space in order to observe his reactions. There'd been some previous incident where he'd taken on a sort of ritualized trickster role and unintentionally drawn my interest; he's not aware of me. (Though trickster's not the word I would have used in the dream and it kind of irritates me to use it now, but it's the best way to put it - a sense of something in common between the Loki illustration, the devil statue, my disembodied perspective, and the role my IRL self had played.) I've just now come to the conclusion that the thing that originally grabbed my interest had to do with taking on different roles rather than something inherent to him. This doesn't make me any less curious, but it alters the situation. He's now looking at a small black and white sculpture of the devil, and I switch to his perspective while he's holding it.

      As my IRL self, I'm interrupted by the arrival of several IRL people. Eventually I wind up standing over a large pot with one of the women, and she's stirring whatever's in it. She calls me by the wrong name, and I correct her, annoyed. She repeats my real name, and makes a promise involving it, talking about dire consequences for anyone who violates this promise. Afterwards she describes the pot as holding the curse she's just spoken.

      Updated 07-30-2015 at 07:01 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    5. Isfael and the Lady's smile

      by , 06-11-2015 at 07:20 PM
      I'm coming out of a mine with a box a man gave me. Sitting down at a table across from a woman I know who's eating lunch, I open up the box and we have a look at the books inside. There's a two-volume set on healing magic that catches my attention; I've seen the first one before but the second is completely new to me, I'm very pleased. The woman asks me for a demonstration, and I laugh, saying I've barely got any understanding of it - it's not something you can learn from books, they're just for pointing you in the right direction, it takes time and work to actually put into practice. She's disappointed and leaves. As I look through the book, I call up a blue healing light that plays around my hand. Reading, the book is saying that it's impossible to progress further without "the Lady's smile."

      I see an image of said Lady, a woman in a void. She's aware of my attention, though her eyes don't focus on me; she talks as if this is a visit from an old friend, sounding surprised and pleased, saying that I've come earlier this week than expected, and calls me by a name that starts "Shari-" But she cuts off partway through that name, and gives the impression of focusing on me, though still not with her eyes. She says then, "Isfael? Is that you?"

      The observer side of me splits off, recognizing that this Lady and Shari-whoever are figures that often appear in stories together under various identities. When she correctly called me Isfael, I realized that Isfael is one of those identities, a specific young version of Shari-whoever without knowledge of his older self.
    6. Three variations on help

      by , 02-24-2015 at 10:11 PM
      Disembodied, I'm watching a teenage girl walk into my home, an old Victorian in a small city. The door wasn't locked. She's been sent here by someone who told her I can help her, but apparently he wasn't specific enough about exactly the kind of problem I would help her with - he'd emphasized how important it was that she get off the street tonight, so she's gotten the misimpression that I run some kind of homeless outreach thing. I'm thinking, amused, that she's not far wrong.

      A girl who's just recently started staying with me walks out of the bathroom wearing a towel, and she says oh, hello to the girl who's just walked in, assuming that the girl must be a friend of mine. She tells the girl I'm 'out' right now - they know me by the name Nick. They chat a little back and forth, neither of them realizing their mistake, and I'm thinking this is a good coincidence, that a girl her same age was around to meet her first, and that they get along well; this should put her at ease.

      The girl who just got out of the shower gets something to drink out of the fridge, and as she's doing so she holds up a particular marked bottle, asking if the girl wants any of this. Oh, damn it - so much for putting her at ease. It's blood, but the markings don't actually indicate that. Offering it was a reasonable thing to do, given the people she's seen just drop in looking for me; and since she's assuming the girl already knows me, she's also assuming the girl's already familiar with what's in that bottle. The girl says sure, takes the bottle, and opens it.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'm on one side of a wooden barricade, and an old friend of sorts on the other side is calling to me. He's telling me that he's taken my advice, and he's decided that I was right - all those people without any magic, their lives do have value after all. As he says this, I'm looking through the gaps in the barricade to the soldiers lined up on the other side. I recognize them, or rather I recognize their uniforms indicating the lord they serve, a man whose help I've been trying to secure for a while now. They're unnaturally still. It's clear my old friend is controlling them directly. I'm not going to have much luck with that lord if I kill off his people, not to mention the people on my side of the barricade who would never forgive me - we're going to have to run.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'd convinced a group of fox demons to give up their human forms, their physical forms. Now I'm returning to the lake where they live, and they're gone. There are markers like graves standing in the places they'd been when they gave up their forms, stakes of white wood with names written on them - or what they used for names, more like descriptions really, they changed them fairly often. I read each of them. I kneel down before one with a name I recognize - it had belonged to a child. For the sake of protecting one human man, I caused this.
    7. Lies and Nadja

      by , 02-08-2015 at 10:12 PM
      I'd been accused of a crime I didn't commit. The charges have been dropped now, but people have formed their own opinions about my guilt or innocence. On the sidewalk I'm confronted by a group of men in dress uniform, most of them middle-aged. They call me monster, and disgusting, and one of them says, "He saw what you did," indicating a younger member of their group.

      A liar, that's interesting. I wonder at first whether this is the actual criminal and if he'd been trying to frame me, or whether he's just someone who heard about the case and was trying to get in on the limelight. But he looks genuinely afraid of me, to such a degree that I realize what must have happened - he must have seen me eating. But in this era, accusing me of being a vampire would be too ridiculous, he wouldn't be taken seriously. So he came up with something more believable to accuse me of, to get me locked up. It wasn't a bad idea, I've been considering burning this identity since this mess started.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'm running along a mountain path, mentally shouting Nadja's name. She came to us under a false identity, and then she disappeared in order to avoid being found out. But there was no need for her to disappear like that. I've tracked her to these mountains based on rumors of "the witch of the crags," and once I sensed traces of her, I started calling first the assumed name we knew her by, then her real one, Nadja. Following her mental trail, I reach a cliff. Without hesitating, I jump over the edge.

      Snow-covered mountain peaks far below me, as far as the eye can see. I pause to check if I'm still asleep enough to take control of the flight for a while - yes, I am. Forgetting about Nadja, I turn upward, enjoying the view for as long as it lasts.
    8. A ghost story, no life is cheap, a tango

      by , 01-25-2015 at 12:04 AM
      I'm being told a story. There's a man, a shapeshifter who can seem to be anyone, but when he smiles you see the shards of glass filling his mouth, grotesquely. I see the moment he'd died, falling from a horse and landing on a glass bottle full of something he'd been carrying, shattering it.

      The story shifts to the woman he'd loved when he was alive. She was called a witch, and a mob took her and chained her to a tree in the forest, with a circle of some kind of wooden pegs placed in the ground to prevent the body from leaving that spot after death. Her body's left there without her head. I 'hear' the body briefly feel a dim sort of awareness of the presence of something familiar and loved nearby.

      Over time, the body comes loose from the chains as it decomposes, sinks into the ground and is covered by - I hear the word 'loam', but I'm seeing moss growing over the body. The arms separate from the rest and hang from the chains. At one point, a horse that had belonged to her while she was alive comes to the tree and noses at those decaying arms, and they reach out and pat it. At another time, the body rises up from the ground and seems to dance, with those arms dancing along as if they were still attached - slightly altering how my vision works, I can see dark strings which would be invisible, manipulating the body like a puppet. That man with the mouth full of glass shards is pulling the strings.

      Later, a scene in which I'm using Mephisto as a pseudonym.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      On a ship after some incident in which several of the crew died, the captain came to me privately to ask a question. He's under the mistaken impression that I can see the future. I don't see the future, I just have more memories to draw on to recognize old patterns playing out again. The captain asks, essentially, whether any of those who died were important - he uses the word 'cheap.' I say to him, "No life is cheap." He acknowledges that this was poor phrasing, but "I need to know-"

      As he speaks, I see a go board. The point is made that certain moves will have a drastic impact on the outcome of the game, and others won't. The captain needs to know if any of the people we lost would have been necessary for this journey to succeed, in ways he can't foresee himself.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'm looking at paintings hanging on a wall, a series mostly depicting figures of the zodiac, with one in the center of a man labeled Dream.

      I'm meeting with a man named Snow who'd initially tried to conceal his identity from me. He's disappointed to find I recognized him immediately. The persona he'd put on for me was this sort of affable type; the real Snow is - well, he gives the impression of being intimidating but I'm not personally intimidated, I'm just enjoying watching how complete his transformation is.

      The majority of the scene after that reveal consists of a tango, during which he leads - which is different, but I find I have no difficulty following. Great fun. He's proposing some kind of deal - there's something about him recognizing the way I've been challenging myself, and how working for him would be beneficial for both of us, something about working for a greater cause, a sense of direction - but when the tango's over and he wants an answer, I just start laughing. Man, have you got the wrong guy. I'm thoroughly enjoying every aspect of his presentation - the intimidating attitude, the seriousness of the deal he's proposing, the song and dance, his whole look - it's all incredibly appealing, but I have no intention of taking it seriously.

      Updated 01-25-2015 at 12:08 AM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    9. Meonarra (DILD)

      by , 12-21-2014 at 03:39 AM
      Tonight I'm in a hotel and had gone to bed at 12:30am, early for me, after a big meal with lots of wine. I slept for a few hours and it was probably around 3–4am (an estimation, I didn't check) that I started water-cycling. I've found it the best way to avoid a hangover: I wake up at intervals to drink as much water as I can comfortably consume, which inevitably means also having to use the bathroom frequently once the rehydration sets in.

      I had already woken a few times in the night and this waking seemed no different at first, because dream logic prevented me from realizing how odd it was that I was walking down a long hall to use the bathroom rather than just using the one in the room. Yet from the start, something made me wonder if I was dreaming. I tried jumping and levitating but it was inconclusive. It didn't occur to me to try other checks. I went in the bathroom and noticed it looked just like one I had just been dreaming about before I woke up, which also seemed suspicious, but I still felt very embodied and awake. I even noticed how clean and inviting this bathroom felt, in contrast to the unpleasant aspect they often present in dreams. I felt awake enough and had to pee urgently enough that I was tempted to just go ahead and use the facilities, reasoning that if I was actually dreaming then with careful intention I should be able limit this activity to the dream state and not accidentally release my bladder in waking life. But uncertainty made me hesitate—I couldn't afford to be wrong about this! Something still made me sense that I was dreaming, even if I couldn't seem to prove it.

      I noticed a woman sitting nearby, which did not strike me as odd, but opportune. I approached her and asked, "Am I dreaming?"

      "Yes." I was struck by the simple decisiveness of her answer. It was also uncharacteristically straightforward, given the usual evasiveness of my DCs.

      "Thanks for being honest. Usually when I ask people in dreams—" (I used this phrase instead of "DC" because I was afraid she might it insulting to be reduced to an acronym) "—they say 'no'. Why do they do that?"

      She shrugged slightly. "They're probably just nervous."

      I wondered what they might have to be nervous about, but wanted to understand what made her different. "Then why were you so honest?"

      "I represent your higher functions." I'm pretty sure this is what she said, or very nearly. It struck me as an oddly technical response.

      This DC really intrigued me. She seemed so smart and self-aware, in contrast to the typical dullness and blandness of those I try to interact with. I looked at her closely. She was a slim young woman who appeared to be in her twenties, pretty, with glossy shoulder-length black hair and an Asian cast to her features. Her demeanor was calm, precise, and assured. I wanted a name to remember her by, so I asked: "What's your name?"

      She promptly uttered a string of numbers, something like "2166309."

      Perplexed by this response, I pressed, "I mean in letters." If she couldn't answer, I decided that I would name her "Murasaki." I had just been reading about the names of Japanese colors so the word was fresh on my mind; I knew it meant purple, and the woman was wearing a bright purple shirt and looked like she might be Japanese. I also recalled that "Murasaki" was a name of ancient pedigree, being the heroine of The Tale of Genji as well as the pseudonym of its courtly author. But my deliberations were unnecessary, it turned out.

      "Meonarra," she said. At least that's what it sounded like.

      I pressed for clarification: "Can you spell that?"

      She might have started with an "M," but what followed was not a series of normal alphabetical letters. She specified particular accent marks and chemical symbols that I wasn't even familiar with. Her explanation of the spelling sounded far longer than the actual name, and at least half of it seemed to be special characters. Even listening closely, I couldn't follow it at all. I wished I had a way to record it other than my own weak memory. I reflected how people in many pre-modern cultures had developed their memories to an extraordinary degree, but we, who can almost always rely on other means of recording information, have very little ability in that regard. I wished I had a notepad to write down what she was saying, but there would be no point: I couldn't keep it with me when I woke up. So instead I just asked her to repeat herself: "Can you say that again?"

      She obliged, but it sounded completely different this time, and I could swear the new spelling ended with a "D." That wasn't anything like the name I thought I'd heard. I figured if I couldn't spell it, I should at least make sure I had the pronunciation right. "Meonarra?" I asked, pronouncing the first syllables as "mee-oh." She corrected me; the first vowel was more like the "a" in "after," so it sounded like "mae-oh."

      I realized that I was falling into a rut by obsessing over the name, and the dream was not going to last much longer. "Can I see you again?" I asked Meonarra. "I'd like to have a conversation sometime."

      She shrank back with a stricken look, as if I'd suggested something completely inappropriate. "No! That's _____'s territory." I didn't quite catch the name, but I think it was two syllables, might have started with an "I," and sounded male. Similar to "Isaac"? But it wasn't exactly that; I don't think it was a waking-world name.

      I wasn't sure what was wrong with my request, but I tried to reassure her. "I just mean to chat, like we're doing now. I'd like to see you." I realized that I was drawn to her. I couldn't tell if it was the stirrings of a romantic attraction or if it was just that I found her so interesting. But the thought awakened a sensuous impulse and I put my arms around her. I recognized that it was the dream state itself that made it so easy to slip toward this sensation, and I asked her why dreams had this quality. I can't remember how I worded the question, and can't remember her reply, if she had time to make one before I woke up.

      Writing this up it perhaps sounds more bland than it felt at the time. It was one of those dreams that felt really significant, even if nothing much happened. I regret that I got so pre-occupied with her name. Although my waking mind really likes to have names for things, a tendency that bleeds over pedantically into lucidity, I'm not sure if naming things is especially useful or meaningful within dream itself. It is becoming clear, at least, that the kinds of names things have in dream are not always as clear and straightforward as our ordinary linguistic appellations of waking life. Instead they appear to operate much like written text in dreams, characterized by the shifting instability of dream logic. So it might have been better if I could have thought of more substantial questions to ask her, instead of wasting the whole dream just trying to pin down her name. I do like having something to remember her by, but what else might she have told me if I had been able to come up with a more introspective line of questioning?

      It is now 6:43am (it was a few minutes before 5:12 when I started so I've spent over 90 minutes writing!) and the sky outside has blossomed into an unbelievably beautiful pink sunrise. I'm going back to bed.

      Updated 12-21-2014 at 03:48 AM by 34973

      Categories
      lucid , memorable , side notes
    10. A storm and a witch bottle

      by , 11-27-2014 at 08:58 PM
      I'm on a ship in a storm, approaching a whirlpool, almost certainly about to sink. None of this affects me, I'm only passing through, but I know one of the men on this ship. I talk to him, asking if he's familiar with a certain infamous pirate - I name a name. He doesn't recognize it. That's a pity - in actuality he's quite close with the woman I named, I was just trying to find out where I am in the timeline. If he doesn't recognize that name for her, that means we're so early in the timeline that she hasn't gone to sea yet. If this had just happened a little later, I could have brought her here to save him. But there's nothing I can do for him here and now. I step up onto the railing at the edge of the deck, looking for the portal in the storm.

      As Rumpelstiltskin (in name and appearance at least - mentally, I'm still halfway the version of me from that storm scene), there's a small group of men who've retrieved the witch bottle in which I was trapped for a very long time. They've retrieved it from a point in the timeline when I was still inside it, so as I'm watching them from hiding, I catch sight of that past version of me inside the bottle. He looks so incredibly young to me, though I haven't physically aged since then. It's all the emotion on his face, the fear. I focus on the pebbled skin, new to him - I realize they've taken the bottle from almost immediately after I first lost human form.

      When I realize that, I become agitated, anxious, a sort of coldness around my heart (such a strong emotion that it lasted a minute after I woke up - that hasn't happened in a while, I enjoyed that). The emotion is partially from forcibly remembering how it had felt when I'd been in that bottle myself, a sort of flashback feeling. There was something I'd been desperate to avert, but I'd been unable to do anything about it from inside that trap. But remembering isn't the only reason I'm so worked up - if I take that bottle now, there's a chance I could change how things unfold in his timeline, save his version of the person I'd wanted to save. Nothing that's happened since that time has mattered to me as much as this. But I hesitate to act - I'm terrified of how it could go wrong, of wasting this miraculous chance.

      As I follow the men with the witch bottle - I'm walking on rooftops or listening from behind stone walls, out of sight - one of them is talking. He's not the leader of their little group, but he's the one who was able to retrieve the bottle from the past. They hadn't been aiming for the bottle specifically, they'd just been trying to capture me, and time can get a bit fuzzy when you're reaching between worlds. You have to be specific. He's saying, "It's the wrong time. He has little power now." It's the present me they wanted, or at least a version of me with a few more centuries behind him than that frightened thing in the bottle.

      Updated 11-27-2014 at 09:07 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    11. Uncreatively named higher powers and an iron fence

      by , 10-22-2014 at 07:00 PM
      There's a war going on between two factions working for two different higher powers - one called the Authority, the other called the Dark Ones. At the moment, I and two other people are untying a woman from a chair, she's been held captive. She's dressed like a candy striper. One of the people helping to untie her is a woman dressed in an old nurse's uniform; the other one is a man I've been working with. I'm explaining something that this man and I recently discovered - the Authority and the Dark Ones are the same entities. They're not divided at all, it's the exact same entities appearing to us under different names, playing us against each other. It's my intention to end the war by eliminating their influence over us.

      The woman in the nurse's uniform has this look of hate as I'm talking about all this. In the end she says, "I hope you win," but it sounds like a curse. She runs out into the street and throws herself backward onto a spiked iron fence, impaling herself. The woman we'd been untying screams "Laura!", the nurse's name. People come rushing out of the building next door, calling emergency services.
    12. Recurring DCs as characters in a book

      by , 09-27-2014 at 06:17 PM
      I'm reading a book. There had been a series I'd loved that ended some years ago, and now the authors have put out a new prequel series featuring some of the side characters - one of them is the Magician.

      Scene changes slightly - instead of just seeing words on a page, I'm now seeing the scene described in the book. The Magician and Julie are having a standoff, just arguing with words at the moment but willing to cause damage if it gets to that point. I'd been looking forward to seeing a scene with Julie. In the main series, it's established that she and the Magician had a long and complicated history, but we only actually see her once - learning more about her is the main reason I'm interested in this new series.

      But Julie's personality here is drastically different than it had seemed in the main series - I actually hadn't realized this was meant to be her until just now when I heard her name (she's using two of Julia's usual aliases). Her portrayal's so different that it just seems like bad writing, like she's been reduced to a caricature. And that complicated history she had with the Magician seems to have become a standard characters-who-irritate-each-other-wind-up-getting-together plot. In the years since that first series ended, the writers have really gone downhill. So I decide I'm just going to ignore this characterization, this new series in general, and focus on the main series instead.

      For (supposedly) unrelated reasons, a character on the Magician's side puts his hands over his ears and starts singing to avoid hearing what the Magician and Julie are saying.

      Updated 09-27-2014 at 06:23 PM by 64691

      Categories
      non-lucid
    13. Sleep No More, fake names, time travel

      by , 08-20-2014 at 07:42 PM
      Visiting the McKittrick, I've been following the taxidermist - a bald man with sunken eyes, looks starved and intense - as he talks to a young blonde man with a heavy jaw who works for the hotel, very earnest type. When it's time for the final banquet, they meet up with two women in clothes from the Victorian era and accompany them down the stairs - but I come to realize their final scene won't be with everyone else at the banquet at all. The women dance down the stairs, floating from one bannister to the other. Standing with them on the bannisters, so close to the ceiling, I'm very aware of Hecate's influence on the floor just above us.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I've just walked away from a room where I'd been talking to a woman. Now I'm standing in the ruins of a building, on a street where a lot of buildings have been destroyed. Nearby there's a large brown rat on top of a pile of rubble, and I have a sense of fellow feeling as I watch it. I don't really want to go out into the street - it's much too exposed - but I don't see any way around it. Once in the street, I catch sight of a woman in a white dress two or three buildings down, behind a wall of iron bars. She sees me and jumps up and down to get my attention. "Nick! It is Nicky, isn't it?" I recognize her, we're close. I (or rather my POV character here) use several different names - 'Nick' is for all intents and purposes my (POV character's) real name, but I haven't heard it for a long time, so this is something of a reunion. But I'm debating whether I want to take the time to rescue her from behind those iron bars.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I've been walking around backstage at a sort of club in the 1930s or so after leaving the audience of a show on stage in the main room. Talking to various people, overhearing conversations by dancers. I'm just now leaving a smokey room where two men have fallen asleep. I've been looking for someone, a specific woman. There's a disaster or a tragedy that's about to occur here, and I have to find her first.

      The show in the main room ended while I was backstage, and everyone's straggling out. In the lobby, I come across a large man I remember meeting earlier. He's putting on his coat. Near the doors, his wife and daughter are waiting for him, and he introduces them to me. I recognize the daughter as the woman I was looking for - she's just a kid. I hadn't been expecting that she'd be a kid in this era. I kneel down to introduce myself to her eye to eye, using the name "Deacon Willfire" - it's the fake name I've been using here in the past, but Deacon is similar to the name I'll be using when she meets me as an adult in the future. She's very shy here, can barely look at me, but I'm aware that meeting me here will make an impression on her, and the similar names will help that memory along when we meet in the future.

      (Woke up. Back to sleep.)

      I'm in that kid's room, standing by an empty fireplace that's so large I could easily fit in it just by ducking a little - it's grabbing my attention. But I'm also talking to the kid, saying to her, "A 300-year-old vampire for an imaginary friend?" (I'm referring to myself. She thinks I'm imaginary.) "You're trouble for sure." I'm thinking about the way I'm meeting her at various times in her life out of sequence. From her perspective, proceeding through time in the usual linear fashion, I've wound up being someone she grows up knowing, someone who's been around for most of her life.
    14. Rell and the princess

      by , 05-21-2014 at 06:53 PM
      I'm a young boy walking into a room which contains a sort of glass bubble, small, like a snowglobe or a paperweight, and through the glass I can see a girl the same age on the other side, who I think of as 'the princess,' a nickname. I'm aware the glass represents a barrier between worlds that we can't cross anymore, we can only meet here in between. The glass bubble now appears to be larger than me, and I walk up to it with my arms held out in front of me, as if I'm holding something like a tray - I'm thinking about bringing the princess something, though visually my hands are empty. I pass through the glass. Inside, it seems to be a little round room, and the princess is sitting at a desk; she sees me and gets up and says "Rell!", which seems to be my name; she sounds happily surprised.
    15. Metal ornament

      by , 04-26-2014 at 08:07 PM
      (From yesterday.) There's a girl on the grounds of some large estate, talking to a boy. She's been chosen to play some role in some tradition or game or something - it's something of an honor, but she's refusing to have anything to do with it. He's trying to convince her - not with any particular effort, just an aw-c'mon kind of way.

      Scene change - elsewhere on that same estate, there's a different girl, wearing a rather old-fashioned maid's uniform (this is a roughly modern setting), and she's standing against a tree. I have the impression she's tied there, but I don't see ropes. This is the role that the other girl had originally been chosen for. There's a group of people who've just found her - searching is part of the game, or tradition, or whatever it is. She's got an oval metal ornament on her forehead, covering her eyes, engraved with some scene. A boy reaches out to remove it - this is also part of the game/tradition/whatever. The 'dream camera' angle changes then, so I can't see the girl's face, but I'm aware that - and this isn't part of the tradition - it will turn out the ornament has a long, thin spike underneath, and the girl is dead. I have a brief image of blood around her eyes, or possibly eye sockets - from the angle I'm standing now, off to one side, I'm not sure which.

      A man's just finished examining the crime scene, though he's not anyone official. He's feeling outraged about something else he'd found, some belonging of hers that had been put on display, hung from a tree with ropes. Standing behind him is the owner of the estate, and that's who the outrage is directed towards. Highlander-inspired then: the man doing the examining takes out a sword - it had been concealed under the grey trenchcoat he's wearing - and formally introduces himself to the owner of the estate, who also has a sword, and who simply says "Yeah" - the implication being that his name's already known.
    Page 1 of 2 1 2 LastLast