Things to Run Away From Really Fast

I'm at a track for horse-races, in the back. There are trailers around, and stalls as well. The place is deserted.

I don't know what clued me in to the fact that this was a dream. I think on that for a second, then shrug it off. I've been meaning to try flying. I jump into the air and swoop around for a bit. I remember to try to contain my excitement, but -

New dream. I'm probably ten years old, fighting a friend who has decided to be a witch. It's all in fun, and I trace sigils into the windows and tell her she can't get inside. In retaliation, she sets a bulletin board on fire. All of my photographs go up in flames, and I smother the fire with blue energies that aren't a tiny bit wet.

Fighting Fire. Scare Factor: 2.

I'm running up an underground staircase. I had the route planned out ahead of time, parkour sequences that he won't be able to duplicate. I've run through the attic of a school and into this place, a spiralling staircase with nothing but a thirty-story fall down the center.

I get to level ground, and something feels off. I look at my hand. It's clawed, and pale-white, and moving on its own. I watch with sick fascination as the fingers move in impossible patterns, until I tear my gaze deliberately away, trying not to get more freaked out.

When I look behind me, nothing is following. I look down the staircase and wonder what would happen if I -

I jump.

I feel the sick thrill of falling for a few seconds, before I reach out and catch myself in a web of orange and yellow, meters from the stone floor. I float in mid-air, close my eyes in contentment, and wake up.

Spiral Staircases. Scare Factor: 5.

I think I used to have better dream control than I do now. More frequent lucidity, as well.

September 2007

Why walk when you can fly? I have an impression of stone steps and pathways. They cling to the steep, grassy hilltop, jutting out into the wet, grey sky. The pathway seems to be large enough for only one person, but the pair of us climb the steps side by side.

I am looking ahead of us as the path ends at an alcove made of stone and concrete, similar to the one that used to be behind our apartment building in Ixburg, but it doesn't smell like mushrooms. If there is a smell, it's sharp, soft, clean. The smell of rain or of mountain air. On either side of the alcove, a trail begins, forking out from the steps. There the trail barely clings to the steep slope.

I can feel everything around me, imagining the texture of a surface as my eyes glance over it. The pebbles in the pathway, the grass and moss... everything tingles with the prospect of rain.

I let go of the ground, and drift upwards slowly until I am floating about a foot above the path. I am being pulled upward and pushed downward, and I hold on to the feeling. This is effortless.

Like a ghost - a painfully, ecstatically alive ghost - I drift alongside my companion. We discuss this phenomenon. I can still feel the ground, the sky, the grass. I simply didn't want to walk anymore, I explain.

The breeze doesn't occur to me. I am not bothered by rippling air currents. All that exists is the humming force which keeps me suspended in my dreamworld.

Gravity Hack. Scare Factor: 1. I wonder who my guide was in that dream. I think he was part-animal in the mythological sense, somewhat similar to a minotaur. Except more friendly.