Lyrics to Lunacy

I was in some sort of training complex for all sorts of stuff. How to shoot a gun, how to use a sword, how to drive some fancy type of vehicle, etc. It was outside, and extended to a low, gray, brick wall. In the background, people where driving fancy vehicles that looked like a mix between a jeep and a golf cart, and was made for one person. Others were fencing with very nice looking swords, ranging from rapiers to katanas. Some people were kneeling and shooting automatic weapons at bags of flour.

I was in a line to be assigned to one of these activities. People in front of me were being handed guns and swords and whatnot from a military looking man with a clipboard. He was obviously some sort of marshal, though I was not sure that this was a military complex. Worried, I felt around my head, and found with much jolliness that I did not have a buzz cut, and at the moment, that convinced me that I was not actually in the presence of the military.

When I reached the marshal looking fellow, the looked me up and down briefly. His eyes stayed on my left hand for a moment. I looked down at it to notice, for the first time, that I was holding a pair of scissors, with a shiny blades at an angle from the black scissor-handle-doodad. I looked at the man in front of me. He pointed to my right and grunted. He then walked grudgingly elsewhere, as I was the end of the line.

I found a group of six or seven other people, one of them an adult man with black hair and a coat, an instructor of sorts. The other five were the same group of people more or less than my age that seem to follow me around on the weekends. ( :O )

If I remember correctly, there were three men including me (But not the instructor) , and three women, and all of us had scissors with black scissor-handle-doodads, but not all with shiny angled blades.

The instructor instructed us, though I do not remember any specific thing he said. We seemed to be a group of elite scissor ninjas, and proceeded to go through drills such as scissor tai-chi, scissor dueling, and snipping at the necks of training androids with fake flesh. At the end of the training, I twirled the scissors around my index finger, feeling rather pleased with my skills in scissory. Then I woke up, and felt disappointed with the tiny blunt scissors I got in kindergarten.

Lucid dream, wewt.

I was in a tower that reminded me of a fancy hotel. It fit the image of the inside of most towers; made mostly of stairs. Not spiral staircase, though, surprisingly. The inside of the tower was all beige and lined with crimson, and had occasional windows, allowing much sunlight through. I was at the top of the staircase, battling a man, who looked like he would make a good movie star, seemingly for no reason.

He had some sort of short, metal stick. Whenever I blocked it; I was surprised that the metal was room temperature instead of cold. I found myself jealous of the man, short sticks were really fun to swing around. He wasn't even using it, barely tapping me when he hit me. I had only my hands, and it was difficult to hit him when the surface was not level.

I was driving him down the stairs, though, anyway. He couldn't do much but block with his stick; the stairs wouldn't let him kick and keep balance, but I could. I kept advancing and he had no chance but to move back.

This will make for a neat DJ post, I thought, ignoring my awareness that this was a dream.

We finally hit the level surface at the bottom of the tower, at which point I hooked my elbow around his neck, sidestepped behind his right foot, and twisted my hip. He fell to the floor and could not recover in time to follow me out the door.

I ended up on a bus without much transition in between. I sat in the front, on the left side. I looked out the window. There were many big, white houses, separated from the road by a series hills with hedges on top.
I looked down at the road, not thinking anything in particular.

Then it hit me.
Duh. Dream.

The dream felt like it was destabilizing; but I caught it.

"Anchor dream," I cheered, getting out of my seat and realizing I was now in the back of the bus. "anchor dream, anchor dream, dream anchor, anchor anchor dream anchor dream dream,"
I was now skipping down the aisle.

Before I could reach the door, the bus disintegrated. I hovered parallel to the ground, and decided to go for a walk.

I saw a dream character to my right, in the forest. I still haven't talked to a DC yet. I crossed my fingers as I entered the forest.

As usual where I live, the forest was not at all dense, but sunny, and made completely out of tall pine trees. The forest ground was covered with a thick layer of pine needles.

I got within three meters of the DC and woke up.

I had a lucid last night, it might have ranked among my top ten best lucids. Enjoy. :3

I was in the 8th grade hall of my school, having a conversation with a friend about, ironically, lucid dreaming. The dismissal bell had rung; everybody, in colorful clothes, was heading downstairs via the double staircase and to the door beside of it. My friend departed, and I didn't pay attention to where he was going, but by the looks of it, he was going to fall down the stairs.

I was shortly outside, walking on the path to the bus loop that went along the mostly glass side of the school. Somewhere along the way I met another friend, distinguishable from his ethnicity and his green coat. Also, along the way, I became lucid. I continued walking, to prevent myself from getting too excited.

I marveled at how real everything was, everything was so accurate. I took this path every day for two years, and I'm still walking it this year, but I was still very impressed. Even the ditch that had been recently filled in, only this week, was accurate. The only flaws were a giant dollar weed growing next to the filled in ditch, and the lack of chalk paintings beneath my feat.



I was now on the asphalt road to the bus loop. Garbage trucks and other kinds of large trucks parked here. The light dimmed, mist seeped in around the sides of of the building and the surrounding forest. I just went along with it. My initial lucidity is usually followed by some sort of event that seemed to try to knock me back into non lucidity, usually I give in. Not this time.

"He's coming," I heard somebody whisper. Sound's just about right, it always seems to be a DC trying to confront me.

The basket ball court, a way's away, expanded to the size of a football field, and I was on top of it. The mist turned into a dark gray fog. I saw a dash at the fog's edge, chasing somebody.

It was really fast, like a ninja. According the the blur, the attacker was white with blonde hair, and he throws his arms back and leans forward at he runs.

I run around aimlessly, hoping for a sigh of the dream character. While running, I stuck a hand out and barely caught a pen, being thrown like a knife, from hitting another DC on the field. I smirked and said something incoherent, as it was hard to focus. I hadn't come derailed at all from the dream; concentration was just a little rough. I ran in pursuit of the attacker.

At some point, I stumbled, and as I caught my self from the fall, a rather late idea emerged;

I should stabilize the dream!

(Author's note: If you're one of those people who like music while reading about fights, I'd recommend this.)

"Anchor dream," I managed to blurt out. The dream immediately stabilized by at least five times. It had already been realistic; but it was like I was playing a video game, now I was actually there. I noticed after stabilized that my vision was about to black out before. I suppose I caught my fall more ways than one.

A swift force dropped me to the ground and rolled me over, and the attacker was standing on top of me, a short, pointed stick pulled back in his left hand, and a dragon shaped kazoo held less then a foot from my face in his right.

Perfect.

I moved the kazoo aside with a forearm, feeling it's jagged wooden texture, the feelings of the spikes on the dragon kazoo were that of the dull edge of a wooden cube.

The attacker, no older that thirteen, thrust his stick forward, towards my chest. As I intercepted, I noticed from the feeling of his momentum that he was only applying brute force and no technique other than a few fancy stances. Many principles of waking life combat are not present in lucid dreaming, needless to say. But I could name a few.

The dream character I was fighting was fast, but within limit. I kept his arms away from his center so he lacked protection and so he would take longer to recover. I disarmed him from his stick by drawing a circle with his wrist, and I made it burst into flames by setting my hand on fire. I reached out towards him with my flaming hand and he scampered back ten feet, and I stood up.

The dream transitioned to a bedroom, lit by a window. The ceiling was slanted, it was part of the roof. The boy who attacked me was sitting in a corner for reason, and I made him vanish on a whim. I contemplated on flying through the window, wondering if I would fit. The corners of my vision began fading quickly. My single attempt to re-stabilize the dream failed, and I blacked out into the insides of my eyelids, which I opened. I did a reality check using the digital clock on my dresser. I was awake.

But then I fell asleep again, and I can recall some dream about a squad of seven jet fighters that ended sadly with a nuke and them all being incinerated.

So that was cool.

So I recently caught a sickness over the weekend, and that probably caused a dream that actually made sense AND was fun.


I was at my friend's house, in the back yard, which was a forest of tall pine trees with little sun coming in from the top. The forest floor was completely blanketed with pine needles, and some other foresty things. This area of the neighborhood was a popular place to build tree houses, I could count at least three from the back yard.

We walked around, talking mostly about Minecraft I'd imagine, since we were both addicts. Then My friend paused, and so did I, as a group of knife-wielding people walked into the yard from around the corner of the house. There were about three, walking in a triangle, the one in the center leading them.

"That's John," My friend whispered, referring to the leader.

John approached him and pushed him out of the way, onto the ground. None of the group seemed to acknowledge me. John picked up a bronze horse bust from the ground. "This looks important," He noted, and walked off with it.

The dream transitioned to inside of the house, in a blank hallway with guns laying on the ground. A rifle, sniper, pistol, shotgun, and SMG. We were arming ourselves for a second encounter. My friend took a pistol and SMG, and I took the shotgun and sniper.

We were outside again, and my friend was tweaking around with the SMG.
"Look," He said. "I made it work." I didn't know it was broken, but then I remembered a false memory of it being broke. He shot it into the ground to demonstrate, but it was so inaccurate he had to hold the weapon sideways in order to make it fire in front of him.

I heard voices from the front yard of the house.

"Looks like we're being hunted," my friend said. He moved to to the corner, and gestured for me to follow.

We heard laughter from the other side of the corner.

"Ha, they think we cant see them." John said, moving out from the corner, with a pistol. He now had five people following him. My friend moved out first, targeting some of John's followers, kicking one in the face.

I rolled closer to John.

"Gentlemen," I said, striking the pistol out of his hand as I rose. I primed the shotgun and pointed the barrel at his face.

John smirked. "You wouldn't."
I considered this. I moved the barrel to his shoulder and squeezed the trigger.

Click.

John laughed.
"Crap," I mentioned, and simply hit him over the head with the shotgun, knocking him out. I pushed his body aside before it finished falling. I zigzagged forward, striking somebody who was aiming a pistol at me in a nerve, and then kicked him in the solar plexus, just to be safe.

I was teleported to one of tree houses, which was little more than a platform. I was laying down, aiming with my sniper. My friend had taken down one, and the remaining two were trying to surround him. I sniped one in the thigh, and he tipped over. Knowing I'd soon be noticed by the other, I abandoned by sniper, unclipped my shot gun from my belt. There was a zip line to the tree a few meters to my left. I got a running start and jumped towards the zip line, narrowly catching it. I grabbed both ends of my shotgun and used it to slide down. Halfway to the end, I released my grip, did a flip towards the enemy, twirled, still in the air, and kicked him across the face, propelling him several meters.

I landed on my feet, panting. My stomach muscles tensed. I said something witty, which I forgot, and the dream ended.