I've already posted this dream around a bunch, but I'm still totally fascinated by it.

Military Prodigy - 8/27/08
Non-lucid

The enemy came into view as I was leading my small force along the stream. They were just where predicted and the numbers were right. No surprises, this was good, we would have a victory. This would be the final battle, the culmination of two years of strategy and battle. I was as secretly smug as the player two moves away from declaring a checkmate.

We crossed the stream and turned onto the small dirt road bisecting the meadow. The terrain really couldn't be better, dry and flat. It was the perfect footing for the horses. I upped our speed to a canter as the enemy spotted us, running and stumbling in their haste to prepare their defenses.

I notice a couple dozen archers and footmen to our right. I can't chance being flanked by even such a small force. Drawing my bastard sword, I take fifteen mounted men to meet them and we charge through a flurry of arrows. The archers break and the footmen die. I let the archers run for the safety of the woods and turn my horse to gallop back to my company. My men are already engaged. My own archers have taken their position, and kneel, drawing their bows. Behind them, Bindi, my trusted general and adviser readies his men. The front of the column is in full combat but my men are giving ground. Do I have to do everything myself?

I draw my bow as I reach the front lines. My horse slows among my men and I loose the arrow. It strikes the enemy commander in the split in his armor between shoulder and torso, knocking him from his horse. The battle is over; he is surrendering. I dismount and loose two more arrows at his abdomen. They stick in his studded leather armor harmlessly. He won't dare get up from his back now.

But that wasn't why I had done it. I felt anger rising in me. This man was my true enemy. He was the reason so many men had died on both sides. The reason for the war. The reason I'd had to raise an army, leaving my previous life behind. A few quick steps and I was upon him. I drew a mean knife I had with a broad tip and serration near the grip and held it to his throat. He smiled. Did he find all he'd done amusing!? I forced him to his feet. I wanted to kill him! I knew that my judgment was clouded by emotion. Bindi would be disappointed with me if I killed him.

I'd wait for Bindi . . . I'd let him decide what to do with him . . . I grabbed his hand and held the serrated edge of my knife to the base of the ring finger on his left hand, drawing blood. I considered cutting off his fingers, but after a moment let them go. He started to stoop down. I pressed my knife to his eye and demanded to know what he was doing. I wondered if I would drawing blood again. I hoped so. He said that he was trying to pick up his purse, and indeed there was a small leather pouch with drawstring for his coin that had fallen separate from his other things.

"Well la-ti-da! Your purse!" I mocked as I released him and my men around me laughed. It occurred to me that that would be considered a joke. With all the hatred seething inside me I had no concept of humor. I was just a kid, barely a man. How could I possibly keep these feelings contained? I was drowning in them.

I wondered if I should sheath my knife. It would be sweeter to kill him with my bastard sword should he try to escape.


At the beginning of this dream I actually loaded from a save file (after accidentally loading my dad's save, realizing it, and having to reset) and used the "L" button to lead my troops. But I actually experienced it as if I were there. I loaded a life.