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    Things to Run Away From Really Fast

    Warnings: violence, problems with authority, and links to TV Tropes.

    But in all seriousness, this journal legitimately contains the kind of graphic and disturbing content that gives people nightmares, so either that's a selling point or a reason not to read on. Just a heads up.

    As of 2015, dreams are ranked according to three categories:

    Adventure: How much fun and excitement can I fit into one dream?
    Control: How much control do I have over the narrative, environment, and dream powers?
    Fear: How scared and out of control do I feel? (Has very little to do with how Silent Hill the monsters get.)

    Regular dreams are in black (along with notes).
    Semi-lucid dreams are green.
    Lucid dreams are blue.

    1. #92. The Devil You Don't

      by , 06-28-2010 at 09:19 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Sunday, June 27, 2010

      My journey from ambitious underling to rival archangel.

      I'm sitting at my desk, poring over some ancient text, but my mind is elsewhere. My team has just made a fascinating discovery, a book that could unlock ancient magics unknown even to the angels. Whomever can harness its power could go so far as to take over the world.

      Unfortunately, we're working for Lucifer (from Supernatural). It's not by choice, I can assure you.


      Sandman!Lucifer could kick your ass.

      I hear the alarm go off. Immediately, I'm running down the stairs to our secret underground laboratory. The place is collapsing; dirt is streaming from the walls and rocks are falling around me. I run to the desk where Lucifer was working earlier, and grab the grimoire, the codex (decoder), and the journal that he was translating it into. Beside the books is a black LED keychain that's supposed to be a portkey. I pick it up, but nothing happens.

      I'm running for the exit, not sure if I'm going to make it. I'm at the entrance hallway, but all of the main-level exits are blocked. An old man - possibly Amon - appears beside me. He says that there's a ladder I can use.

      Sure enough, there is. I climb up the ladder - Amon is behind me - and we both make it out.

      Lucifer is in the common area, sitting at a table with his head in his hands. He looks really mad - probably because the grimoire is lost. I try to turn down another hallway, but he sees me and the grimoire before I have the chance to leave. Suddenly, Lucifer seems very pleased.

      Once we're out of sight, I turn around and smack Amon over the head, wondering why he had to take us directly past Lucifer. Comprehension dawns on his face, and he asks me if I was trying to betray our boss.

      Yes! Obviously!

      Amon wants to know if I really think I can get away with it, but I shrug and tell him I'm not worried.

      Lucifer corners me later and asks why I'm not grateful that he brought me back to life.

      What? Of course I would be... oh, I remember now. My character was really mad for some reason.

      "Thanks for that, by the way," I say. I'm still taking over.

      ---

      I'm at some Misha Collins fan-thing. Everyone around me is all excited, but I have things to do. I go and try on jeans in a store. They don't fit, and I'm tired of clothes-shopping already.

      ---

      On a bus, I see Lucifer again. He's avoiding me. I try to unobtrusively sit beside him, but he switches seats when people get up to leave.

      I see Sally, from school, is on the bus too. This can't end well.

      Why am I not worried about myself, though?

      Oh, right. I'm Michael. Duh.

      I tell Sally that she has to get off the bus. People are turning into piles of maggots around us, and she has to leave before she does too.

      "Ask the bus driver to open the door." I say.

      She points to the bus driver, who's a pile of bugs covering all the controls.

      I run over to the front of the bus. I plunge my hands into the squirming mass of maggots (and I can feel them wriggling all over my skin), and pull the lever for the door to open. Sally gets off the bus and starts running.

      All of the maggots on the bus are streaming towards Lucifer, somehow going to power him. He looks weak right now, though. He's lying down on one of the seats, and I go over to him.

      He asks me if I'm going to give one of those good-guy speeches about love an acceptance. I tell him that just because I turned out to be an angel (again) doesn't mean I'm one of the good guys.

      I call up a small amount of light energy to cleanse the pile of bugs. It starts off tiny, and gets bigger and bigger...

      ---

      I'm in a dark hallway with the same LED keychain from earlier. The small flashlight doesn't actually create light, though. When I click it once, the lights go on. When I click it again, the lights go off. Every second time I click it, something scary happens in the hallway, and if I'm in the hallway when it happens... who knows?

      Holly, from high school, shows up, talking about Sailor Moon. I'm at the top of the staircase, and I think she's one of my enemies. When she's almost at the top, I telekinetically blast her down the stairs.

      She gets up and informs me that it wasn't very nice to do that. I shrug and apologize, sheepish. Apparently she actually is on my side.

      ---

      I'm watching clips of a cartoon. It's about animals running farms. I think this is ironic, and the cows suddenly start acting strange.

      There's a little yellow chick trapped in a flipped-over bus that's about to explode. The other animals are trying to figure out how to rescue him.

      One of the adults holds up a diagram of a kite, which the people inside the bus can hold onto and fly out the door with.

      I'm flying with the kite over a sea-side city. I'm just over power lines, and I don't want to hit them. I'm on top of a marina. I have to make it past the cruise ships, out to sea so I can fall into the water.

      The Devil You Don't. Scare Factor: 4.
    2. #84. Character Creation

      by , 06-21-2010 at 06:01 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      A wizard violates the laws of nature when he creates human beings from scratch. And then there are zombies.

      There's a shabby old farmhouse on the plain, over the crest of the hill. No roads lead to it, because in this time, there are no roads. If there's a hint of civilization in this place, it's what's been carved out of the land by its few inhabitants.



      I knock on the door.

      The door swings open and a middle-aged man with longish black hair answers it, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile when he realizes who I am.

      "Amon." I say, "It's been a while."

      He leads me inside, beaming. The inside of the house is bright and warm and filled with people. I notice the eight people in the room, most of whom are cooking and doing various odd jobs around the house. Amon is rushing away to go help with something.

      I take an empty seat beside a kid who looks to be in his mid-20s. "I'm Eli," he says, "and the scary-looking guy across from me is Mark."

      Mark glares menacingly from across the table.

      "So, Eli," I say, "How did you come to be here?"

      "Could ask you the same question." Mark interrupts.

      Eli continues like he hasn't heard him. "I was a civilian consultant for the military back home. It's a long story, but the same thing that pulled all of us back here somehow pulled me in. So really, I'm from the future," he says happily.

      Neat cover story.

      "So, when were you from?" asks Eli.

      "I need to talk to Amon." I say dismissively, and kick my chair back.

      Mark stands up too, his pose threatening. "I don't know who you are," he says, "but you're not one of us. If you try to hurt any of these people, I will kill you."

      I turn back to him, considering. "Duly noted."

      I catch up to Amon outside. He's leaning against the wood siding of the house, staring up into the sky.

      "So," I say, leaning against the wall beside him, "They're self-aware."

      Amon pulls away from the wall a bit, turning to face me. "They are." He confirms. His smile becomes wistful. "Aren't they beautiful?"

      "Your own perfect little creations." I say, frowning. "You know, there's a reason the creation of human life is considered a forbidden art."

      "Those laws don't apply here," says Amon. "And of all people, I thought you would understand why those rules are arbitrary."

      "I care little for conventional morality, Amon," I say, warning in my tone, "But this is dangerous. As my student -"

      "You taught me to choose my own path," says Amon. He gestures at the door. "This is what I've chosen. These are real people, ---." He lowers his voice. "I won't abandon them."

      I can't stop a smile from creeping onto my face.

      One of his creations comes outside to tell us that dinner is ready. The man is smiling and holding a bowl of potatoes and a wooden spoon. I try to ignore it, but I can't help but notice that his hands are shaking.

      ---

      Over dinner, I keep an eye on the man with the potatoes. His name is Darryl, and he's a carpenter from the 1950s. At least, he thinks he is. In reality, he's a construct whose artificial soul is straining at the bonds keeping it in place. I'm surprised the others have lasted so long.

      Eli keeps trying to draw me into the conversation, but I keep one eye on Darryl throughout the meal. He's getting progressively more pale and shaky, I notice, as Eli introduces me to a pretty woman in a dress, called Solara. She's either from an alternate, apocalyptic future or a rich family in the 19th century. I'm not paying much attention.

      Because Darryl is stumbling, backing away from the table into the wall, and as he collapses, a wave of energy pulses outward, knocking over every construct at the table.

      I calmly set down my fork, then stand up and walk over to Amon. "I hate to say I told you so," I tell him, "but it's time to go."

      "No!" says Amon, knocking my hand away. He staggers back to the other end of the room, looking over the scene with horror. "I have to help them."

      "Amon." I say, approaching like I would a wounded animal. "There's nothing you can do. We need to leave before you're affected, too."

      "Yes." he says, eyes wild. "Yes, yes, I can't help them," He looks straight at me. "But you can. You can fix them."

      "No." I say flatly. "This is a bad idea."

      He's already started the process before I can protest further, pulling soul energy from a well deep inside him, gathering it up.

      I can't stop him.

      "Take care of them, ---," he says, struggling to hold together the colourless swirling energy he's holding in his hands. "Please."



      The soul energy hits me at the same time I feel Amon vanish from existence, gone as if he'd never been there. The energy is a rush, but I control it effortlessly, and spin around to confront the automatons that are his legacy.

      The thing that was Darryl comes charging at me, and I telekinetically smash it into the wall next to me. Its feet are dangling in the air as I examine it. Gari d'amon ex hadris, I chant in nonsense Latin. I let the body fall, boneless and broken to the floor.

      Mark is still half-standing, leaning against a chair for support. He's been watching with the glazed look of a man in horrible pain, but he's still somewhat alert.

      I approach him in much the same way I did the zombie, cautious. I nudge him back toward the wall with a tendril of energy, but I don't lift him from the ground or slam him into the wall.

      "This is going to hurt," I warn him.

      Mark nods and lets his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed. So assured, I grip Mark's artificial soul, pulling it into a ball from his chest. I twist my wrist, watching his hands clench into fists, and let trickles of the soul-energy I absorbed from Amon sweep into the artificial soul, strenghthening it.

      I don't have time for anything more elaborate. I push Mark's soul back into his body, forcing it to slice through his veins in one swift motion, sticking it there. If he could get any breath into his lungs, he would be screaming.

      I leave Mark on the floor, stepping over him to the other bodies. This just might work.

      In the end, I only manage to save five of them, Eli and Solara among them. The other two, I simply put down, severing their nervous systems and absorbing the very last of their energies. The once cozy farmhouse feels oppressive, haunted by the wild energy that echoes throughout. We need to leave.
      "You have water?" I ask a woman, whose name I don't know. She nods silently, looking back over the farmhouse.

      "Well?" says Solara, gathering up her skirts and hiking out into the desert, the opposite way I came from. "Let's get going then."

      Amused, I follow after her, followed, in turn, by the rest of the group. Mark stays close behind me, though I doubt it's to watch my back. More likely, he just wants to keep an eye on me.

      Eli jogs to catch up, panting as he keeps pace with me. "So, what happened back there, exactly?"

      "Amon was a necromancer," I say. "He wanted to create life, so he came here. He created you." I keep my eyes on the horizon. "He couldn't sustain himself along with all of you, so he sacrificed the rest of his soul to keep you alive."

      Eli blinks. "Okay, that's completely unbelievable."

      I look back at him and say without inflection, "The wormhole that brought you back in time dosed you with massive amounts of radiation that was going to turn you into zombies."

      "Thank you," says Eli. "Why didn't you just say that the first time?"

      Eli tries to catch up to Solara. I turn back to Mark and shrug. What can you do?

      I could swear I almost see Mark crack a smile.

      ---

      The next hill brings us the view of a tall, white-panelled manor not too far off. I wonder what could have made it; we're supposed to be in a universe devoid of all sentient life, after all. The rest of the party is just relieved to see a trace of civilization, so I suppose that it's worth the risk.

      We trek up the gravel road (another oddity) to the house that shouldn't be there. Eli and Solara are running inside before Mark and I have a chance to check it out - which Mark isn't happy about. We meet them inside. Solara is twirling in circles over the hardwood floor, a smile on her face as she admires the high ceilings.

      I'm trying to examine my surroundings on a deeper level, but something is blocking my senses. This place might seem like heaven to Solara, but something is very wrong.

      Mark's dividing us into teams. He wants Eli and Solara to stick together on the main floor, watching for any signs of life (anything to keep those two out of trouble). He sends the two nameless constructs - people - off to explore the rest of the main floor while the two of us head upstairs.

      "If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't trust me with the others." I say in a low voice, out of earshot from the rest of the group.

      "I don't!" says Mark, turning around to face me on the stairs. I calculate a four foot height advantage. "You show up and suddenly, four of us are dead! What the hell do you expect?"

      "If I hadn't shown up when I did, all of you would have been dead." I say, meeting his angry gaze.

      "Do you remember what I told you, earlier?"

      I tilt my head, walk up the last few steps until I'm standing far too close. "You said you'd kill me." I smile, and Mark takes a step back. "Would you like to try?"

      We hear a scream from the main floor. Mark is rushing down the stairs toward the sound, shouting "Solara", and I follow behind at a more modest pace.

      Solara has collapsed on the floor. Eli is backed up against the counter, faced by a wraith-like creature with rotting skin. Eerie green light seems to flow from its features, making the sunlight streaming in the windows seem colder somehow. Its flowing white dress seems to flutter in a non-existant breeze.

      Revenant, my mind supplies me with, as it turns to face Mark. Controls illusions, typically feeds on travellers. It hasn't noticed me yet.

      "Do you like my home?" the revenant asks Mark. He starts forward, but it reforms into the shape of a Chinese woman with long dark hair and modern clothing. It's someone he seems to recognize, and he freezes on the spot.

      The revenant approaches him, raising one hand to his face -

      I attack with a right hook to her jaw. I spin and lash out with a kick. I've left myself open. The revenent strikes with her claws, tearing my throat out. I laugh, the liquid splashing my clothes, and continue to strike at her.

      Hang on, that's not fair.

      What isn't? It's right on my character sheet; I'm immortal.

      You should at least need some time to recuperate.

      Nope.

      Oh, come on, you get banished to the basement...


      I take a moment to adjust to my new surroundings, dark and damp and distinctly underground. I'm in the cellar. I curse revenants in general to hell and back, but I'm not too terribly concerned with the constructs, either. Mark should be able to handle himself for a little while.

      I take stock of the food in the basement, a lot of cereal and a working freezer - hey, Neapolitan ice cream. The others will be happy about that. The overhead light starts to flicker and I sigh. I see movement in the corner of the room, feel hairs raising on the back of my neck.

      I spin around and catch the revenant by the throat. She's flickering back and forth between her wraith image and her human one, and I force her to the ground, crushing her windpipe. She claws uselessly at my arms, but it's too late, I've got too good of a grip on her. Unfortunately, revenants don't need to breathe, either.

      There's a short flight of steps leading back to the kitchen, and I drag her up by the throat, letting her white dress drag over the dusty steps. I step into the kitchen, where the five survivors are standing around in a circle, trying to figure out what to do next.

      Mark looks up first. "We thought you were dead." He accuses.

      "I don't die." I say.

      I throw the revenant onto the floor, where she scrambles back along the tile, surrounded by six very non-human travellers. "Now," I say, tilting my head to the side and smiling down at her, "How do we go about killing you?"

      Character Creation. Scare Factor: 3.

      There, I'm done. Finally.

      Updated 08-13-2015 at 05:34 AM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    3. #80. Things Going Badly

      by , 06-17-2010 at 07:31 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      With my DCs on a probationary driving period, it's up to me to play chauffeur. Also, black cats and an upcoming apocalypse.



      I'm watching a horror movie unfurl through its main character. In this dream, I'm a lonely, middle-aged man who lives in a run-down apartment in the north end of Halifax. I'm taking out the garbage, first thing in the morning, reflecting on the fact that I actually feel happy, for once. I just spent the night with a woman who I really like, and it looks as if the relationship might last.

      I feel my heart sink when I step outside. The alley is swarming with black cats. I can communicate with a few of them, and they have nothing but bad news about the supernatural elements moving around town.

      And that's all I remember.

      ***

      I'm standing on a rooftop in downtown Halifax, chatting with some of the people who are starting school this year. We talk about the dilapidated, ugly buildings that are most of the school buildings. I say that I actually like them; they're fun to take photographs of.

      Some of the buildings, I'm pretty sure I explored in previous dreams. One of them is practically abandoned, and you can scavenge a lot of material from the place, if you're looking for it.

      I offer a girl a ride home, and we drive through (rather confusing) one ways without much incident. The roads are practically empty. Our path continues into a parking garage and up a flight of steps, and I have to shake my head at the absurdity. I reverse, and pull back onto the road. Then I start wondering about the unisex bathrooms in the building, and how great it would be if they were everywhere.

      ***

      I'm at the Ixburg swimming pool, swimming away. We have to vacate the pool, though, to make room for the shrimp.

      Oh, now there's piles of pineapple and shrimp in the pool. I pick up one of the shrimp and eat it raw, not finding anything strange about this, even though I'm a vegetarian. One of my friends looks at me in horror.

      I wander over to talk to the Corrupt Corporate Executive by the lifeguard station, a woman who is obviously planning something evil. I ask her what's going on, and she candidly tells me that they're trying to bring about the apocalypse.

      "Oh, well," I say, rolling my eyes. "That's all right, then."

      She explains that there's actually eight or nine horsemen of the apocalypse, and how the devil, as our culture knows him, is actually one of them. She gestures at a guy with bright red skin and a scraggly beard, with insects crawling all over him.

      "Is that pestilence?" I ask, looking over at him.

      "No, that's the devil."

      "That's not Lucifer." I say incredulously.

      The woman explains that there are several entities in the known universe who have collectively been referred to as "the devil". The mythology just has us all mixed up.

      "So, if I decide to kill you all, I won't be inadvertently committing suicide?"

      "Not at all," the woman replies with a smile.

      "Okay..." I say awkwardly. "Good to know."

      Scare Factor: 3.

      Updated 06-17-2010 at 10:18 PM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid
    4. #75. Seven Minutes in Heaven

      by , 06-14-2010 at 07:57 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Okay, guys. I'm done spamming the Recent Entries section, I promise.

      Also, romance with a fictional character? Very lame. Thankfully, this can only end badly.
      What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause—to use their own knowledge against them?



      I'm browsing through the sale aisle at Bootlegger when I feel the temperature drop. Slowly, I place the t-shirt I was holding back on the rack, and reach out with my senses, feeling at the presence that appeared directly behind me. I can feel a stare burning into the back of my head, and I turn around, keeping my hands visible and obviously empty.

      Standing there is a dark-haired man in a trench coat, staring at me without blinking. Aside from the creepiness factor, he doesn't appear to be a threat, but I can see beyond the physical. Cold light bleeds from his form, barely contained within his vessel, and I check my initial impulse to attack.

      "Is there something I can help you with?" I ask, gesturing with my hands.

      His expression doesn't change, though I notice a slight twitch of annoyance. "My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the Lord." He says this tiredly, as if it's something he's had to recite a lot lately.



      Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure I've heard those words before. I'm still caught up in the feeling of deja vu when he says, "Luc, heaven has work for you."

      The words jolt me back into the present. "Wait, what?" I say. "My name's ---."

      "Of course it is." says Castiel.

      I calculate my chances of being able to control the holy fire I'm about to summon. Blue flames start to dance across my fingertips and my claws lengthen in response to my irritation.

      A ball of pure kinetic force slams into my side, sending me flying through the glass store-window. I pick myself up from the ground and spin to face my attacker, a man I barely get a glance at before I'm dodging another kinetic missile.

      The force slams through the back wall of the shop, sending people screaming for cover. I roll into a crouching position and pull all the glass around me into the air. I throw the broken glass and the shards fly like bullets toward the attacker. Before they've even hit, I'm sending a wave of holy fire at him.

      The incompatible energy burns ice-cold, sucking the heat from my bones. I collapse, shaking, fighting for breath. I manage to raise my head to look at the wall of fire that's burning on its own, and decide that it'll probably hold off the angels long enough for me to escape.

      A hand grips the back of my shirt and hauls me to my feet. I look up at Castiel and groan.

      "Bit of a trigger-happy bodyguard?" I complain, leaning on the angel for support. "Was that Lucifer? It looked like Lucifer." I mutter.

      Castiel actually rolls his eyes. "We should depart. It would be best to avoid him for now."

      "Oh no." I say, stepping back from Castiel on still-wobbly legs. "I can't take any more of your light-based heavenly magics right now. I say we walk."

      Castiel just looks around our flaming surroundings. The building will probably fall down on us any second now.

      "Fine." I say, closing my eyes and bracing for more hypothermia. I feel Castiel touch my shoulder, and a sudden lurch, and I open my eyes. We're standing in a three-car garage; concrete floors, white walls. The weirdest thing? I feel completely fine.

      "Guess I've found an angel I'm not allergic to." I say, "Where are we?"

      "Heaven."

      "What?"

      Castiel doesn't have time to answer. Flames are appearing from nowhere, licking up through the concrete floor and burning it away. The flames explode outward in a spiral and I shield as best as I can, but I can feel them lick at me, burning cold.

      I'm running toward the door to the house, stepping onto the tile floor and slamming the door shut behind me. There's an inch of space left, and the door won't stay shut.

      Last time, it actually closed the whole way, a little voice reminds me, but Lucifer is on the other side of the door, twisting the doorknob and I pull against the door, holding it shut from the inside. Lucifer is pounding on the door, causing it to rattle in its frame. I'm worried he might actually knock it down.

      Of course, the fact that he hasn't is a little insulting.

      "You know, I am way better at being you." I mutter.

      I look around for something to brace the door with. The garage opens directly into the kitchen. Metatron is walking through on the far side, behind the island.



      "Hey, Metatron! A little help here?" I say hopefully, still holding the door shut. It shudders against the onslaught.

      Metatron looks down his nose at me. "Honestly, Luc, the lot of you are acting like children," he sneers, and continues on his way.

      "My name is ---!" I shout at his retreating back.

      The feeling of ice water is creeping back into my veins. I shiver and lean against the doorframe for support, gripping the doorknob with my right hand. I hear shouting from the other side of the door and the noise is lessening. Lucifer's not trying to get in.

      When Castiel appears beside me, the room seems to get a little warmer. I'm clutching at the lapels of his trench coat before I even realize what I'm doing. The cold is fading away, though, and I decide that it's worth the awkwardness.

      "Is he gonna back off?" I grumble into Castiel's shoulder.

      Castiel tentatively places his arms around me. "Raphael understands that we need your help. So long as you don't burn down any more buildings, I think you'll be fine." He pauses, considering. "If he finds out that you mistook him for Lucifer, though, he might try to kill you again."

      "Raphael." I blink, pulling away. "That makes more sense."

      "I also recommend that you remain close to me," Castiel says, "Heaven's defenses seem to have an adverse affect on you as you are now."

      I shiver. "Fair point. Now what the hell is it you want me to do?"

      ---

      It turns out, the bright blue energy I've been playing with for the last few weeks has been wreaking havoc on Heaven's delicate ecosystem. For some strange, probably sinister reason, I'm the only one who can fix it.

      Part of the living room has been torn away to reveal a crack in the dream-fabric. Blue electricity is spitting from the black chasm, and the angels in the room shy away from it every time it crackles. Castiel and I walk into the room without much fanfare, though the two angels hurry out as soon as we get there.

      "Is there something I'm missing?" I wonder aloud.

      "You need to absorb the Lux. We'll be able to repair the tears," says Castiel, pointedly not answering my question.

      "So there is something I'm missing." I say, turning around to look at Castiel. "What happens to me if I do this?"

      Castiel's face is deliberately expressionless. "You'll be able to withstand our defenses on your own for a time. Once we've repaired the tear, I'll return you to Earth and the Lux will fade away on its own."

      I turn back to the tear, staring into the terrifying void, alive with crackling blue. It's breathtaking, in a way.

      "---," he says, catching my elbow. I look back at him. "Please do this."

      I smile and say, "I never could say no to you, Cas." It feels like I've said the words before.

      Castiel pulls back like he's been burned, and I turn to the void, holding out a hand and bracing myself. I focus on the blue energy and pull -



      It's like crashing headfirst into a star. The whole world is alive - burning - and I can see. I can see everything. I can see blue, blue, bright, light blue, and it's trailing after every living thing in the universe. I don't know. I don't know what it is, but it's not light, not like Heaven, not like the power Readers have. It's deeper, more primal, and it wants nothing more than to be free -

      My world explodes with blue light, and my bits and pieces of awareness are interrupted by the intense humming of the Lux in my veins. I'm vaguely aware of strong arms pulling me away from the hungry black tears in the dream-fabric, of clutching at the rough fabric of a coat, trying to hold on to something tangible, before I'm torn away from him and left to calm down.

      The next thing I know, I'm in the kitchen. I'm sitting on a stool at the island, propping my elbows up on the granite countertop, resting my chin on my hands. Most of my attention is on the movie being projected on the wall across the room. I have a vague recollection of choosing Dogma just to be obstinate.

      Castiel walks in from the living room, looking neither more or less rumpled than he usually does.

      "How'd it go?" I ask.

      "We were successful, thanks to you," he says. "How are you feeling?"

      "Fine." I say, "Better than fine." I can still feel the Lux thrumming through my veins, offering me power beyond my wildest dreams.

      As much as I might like Cas, he doesn't need to know that.

      "We've done this before, haven't we?" I ask quietly.

      Castiel looks away, and I catch his hand in mine. He meets my gaze, looking sad.

      I let go of the breath I was holding. "Wish I could remember."

      Our hands are still threaded together, and he squeezes my hand, says, "Let me take you home."

      And we're standing at the center of an empty city square, bathed in orange under the afternoon sun. The cobblestones are warm beneath my feet, and the air is dry and still. Castiel and I are holding hands, and when I look up at him, my breath catches in my throat.

      "We'll just do the same thing, Cas, over and over again. You know that."

      "It has to be this way."

      "It doesn't." I insist, but Castiel is already letting go of my hands.

      "I'm sorry, ---." He raises two fingers to my forehead, preparing to erase my memories.

      My force push sends him flying through a brick wall. Dust and mortar fly everywhere and the angel collapses in a heap. The rest of the wall falls in on him.

      I'm standing with my palms outstretched, panting. I let my hands fall to my sides, and watch silver-white light leak from the pile of stones. I don't have much time.

      I flee the square, running over the cobblestones and heading toward the cliff overlooking the rest of the city. I don't slow down; I leap from the cliff and focus on the rooftops hurtling toward me.

      As I land, I blanket this section of the city with my black and red aura, sending my awareness out in all directions until only the blue-white energy is left. I can feel the pull to a place only I can find, and I close my eyes and let myself drift toward Lux.

      Seven Minutes in Heaven. Scare Factor: 3.

      Updated 08-13-2015 at 04:44 AM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid , memorable
    5. #73. Corporate Sabotage

      by , 06-14-2010 at 07:50 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Two girls hide in a closet behind the bathtub. The dream has been third person for a while now, focusing on the girls, who are part of a super-secret experiment involving clones or superpowers or whatever.

      The Matron is walking into the room, and the pre-teen girls - Rae and Johanna - are hiding from her. Rae is about to leave the room and face her, hoping that she can still save Johanna from a horrible fate. Rae takes a deep breath and steps out into full view of the office -

      Only to be blocked from sight by an adult stepping in front of the door. It's me. The Matron is coming in behind me, and I'm distracting her from Rae.

      "It's always an... experience, hosting a representative of Cypher Industries." The Matron says, ushering me toward one of the chairs facing her desk.

      "I've no doubt," I say, sending a wink at the girls hovering at the bathroom door. No doubt the Matron knows they're there, but she's ignoring them so far.

      "If I may ask," she says, sitting down, "What brings you here? Our corporations have not been on the best of terms, as of late. Your safety is not assured."

      "I'm supposed to give you this." I throw a sheaf of papers onto the desk in front of her.

      She doesn't touch it. "And this is?"

      "Oh," I say, rolling my eyes, "Roundabout legaleze that doesn't mean much. It's basically demanding access to what we consider to be our property."

      "Really?" says the Matron icily, "And what property would this be?"

      "You are in possession of two very special little girls. We want them; I'm taking them."

      "Why shouldn't I kill you right now?" Her hands are folded on the table, her head tilted to the side.

      "Oh, that's easy," I say, leaning back in my chair. "The term is 'Tactical Nuclear Missile Strike'."

      "Excuse me?"

      "My team is currently flying directly overhead," I say, leaning forward, "If I flatline, then they will immediately make the entire island -" I wave my hands, "Explode."

      There is a beat of silence.

      "Get out."

      "I'll be taking the brats, then." I jump from my seat, smiling widely, and make for the door. "Pleasure doing business with you!"

      Rae and Johanna are right behind me. The three of us run down the glass staircase, laughing, as the world unravels around us.

      Corporate Sabotage. Scare Factor: 2.

      ...I am a psychopath.
    6. #63. Stray Little Devils

      by , 06-14-2010 at 07:30 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Fragment: Misha Collins and I walk through a grassy field, looking for a shed or a house that contains something important.

      Fragment: My own dark energies are overshadowed by the presence of bright blue.

      I've somehow popped into the Sandman universe, after the end of the Lucifer series. Considering I'm the devil herself at the moment, albeit one from an alternate reality, I think it prudent to avoid people who might recognize me.

      A group of the ex-Lucifer's allies are converging upon a town, ready to attack, for some reason. I have an image of him (from my avatar) crashing into one of the buildings with a semi-truck, stepping out unharmed. I realize that I'm going to have to hide my healing ability.

      I make for the rooftops. I run up a ramp and leap onto the side of a three-story building, using tiny handholds to inch my way onto the roof. I get to the edge, and I pull myself up, and immediately scramble for cover at the back of the roof. Mazikeen jumps up the same way I came, armed with a sniper rifle and ready to take out enemies on the ground.

      I notice that she's recovered the other half of her face.



      I inch out of my hiding place to get a better look at her, and she turns around. "Lucifer?" she accuses, calling fire into the palm of her right hand.

      "Um, no?" I say, "Not yours, anyway."

      She doesn't seem to believe me, and being burned alive is never fun.

      "'He flew outside of creation, and the nothing imposed itself upon him. Or maybe he imposed himself upon the nothing.'" I misquote, "It was something like that, anyway."

      Yeah, that fireball doesn't seem to be dying down.

      "I'm here to help! Really!"

      "You're here to help?" She says mockingly, "What can you do?"

      Some time later...

      I'm a child in white, laid out over an altar. A man holds a knife out in front of him, poised to strike into my heart. Like lightening, I stand up and take the knife, slashing across his throat and spraying arterial blood into the audience. A woman licks her lips, and I wonder what it tastes like to her.

      One sacrifice down.

      Stray Little Devils. Scare Factor: 2.

      Updated 09-02-2010 at 11:54 PM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid
    7. #45. The Devil You Know

      by , 06-14-2010 at 06:38 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      Ariel, Samael, Rick.

      The group of survivors have made it to an open courtyard surrounded by stainless steel fencing. The entrances are similar to cattle corrals, and apparently zombies aren't smart enough to get in. The horde is separated from us, but a few renegade zombies are still trying to eat us.

      "Oh my god, just shoot them already!" shrieks a girl with dark hair. There are probably half a dozen of us, but only two guns. A shotgun blast goes off, taking out the zombie. The man holding the gun starts reloading. The blonde woman with the other gun lays down cover fire.

      One of our members is somehow a conscious zombie, fighting off other ones and getting bitten in the process. The bites don't bother him much.

      A zombie no one else seems to have noticed is sneaking up on one of the youngest, unarmed, members of our group. I curse, and rush the zombie, blocking the kid from its view. The thing immediately starts in on me, and, stupidly, I let it close enough to get in a bite.

      "Fuck!" I shout, calling the attention of the rest of the survivors. I grab the zombie's head and twist the neck, severing the spinal column. The zombie drops limply to the ground.

      I put a hand to the side of my neck, wincing when it comes away sticky with blood. I can already feel the wound starting to close. I look up, noticing that the man with the gun is eying me speculatively, his shotgun fully loaded and pointing straight at my head.

      "Rick," I say, warning in my voice. "Don't even think -"

      He pulls the trigger. My head explodes in a spectacular fountain of red chunks.

      I come to some time later. I sit up in the grassy field, and I'm covered in my own blood. I purge the various fluids and chunks of brain matter with a thought, and stand up, cursing Rick's entire family tree as I do.

      Already, there are more zombies shuffling toward me.

      They scurry away when I send a telepathic, high pitched whine toward them, scrambling what's left of their brains and causing blood to pour from their ears. The closest zombies collapse immediately, the rest stay away.

      I head toward the stone building. A school, before the apocalypse hit, and by coincidence, the perfect place for a bunch of insects to make their last stand.

      ---

      The blonde woman is on edge the moment she sees me. "You're dead." she accuses, bringing her own shotgun up to fire. "Sam, I'm sorry, but -"

      "You know, Ariel." I say, casually swatting the gun away, "That didn't work last time."

      Ariel lowers the weapon when she hears my voice. "How the hell?"

      "None of your goddamn business." I say brightly. "Now, where are the others?"

      She's suspicious. "You know Rick meant well, right?"

      "By shooting me in the head. I know. And I considered slaughtering every one of you without mercy," I say, willfully ignoring Ariel's horrified expression, "But the world would be so boring without any humans to torment."

      Ariel makes a choked sound.

      "So let's call an end to your little scouting mission," I say, starting down the concrete tunnel, "And go find the others."

      If I can't kill them all, I can at least look forward to the expression on Rick's face.

      The Devil You Know. Scare Factor: 2.

      ETA: It was just like this, actually.[/QUOTE]
    8. #37. A Pirate's Life

      by , 06-14-2010 at 05:48 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Below deck, on this particular pirate ship, there is a structure made with cooked spaghetti. We're sitting around it in a circle, making fun of Dean Winchester as he tries to add noodles to the structure, Jenga-style. He loses balance and half the structure collapses around him. The group laughs uproariously, and it's the next guy's turn.

      I'm standing on deck, looking out over the water. Apparently we're being sold into slavery. Those of us in this very special group are making some very necessary escape plans.

      "Have you ever been to [Modern Tortuga Expy]?" Asks Jack O'Neill from beside me.

      I'm a short-haired blonde, badass and immortal, and I've been everywhere, man. "I'm familiar with the area," I say, and pause, considering. "I hope they've forgotten about me."

      Now that we're on shore, we can put those plans into motion. We just need to make some tiny adjustments to fit the current situation. I'm standing next to our packed-together bunk-beds with O'Neill. All we need to do is lure one of the guards close enough...

      A jaffa guard approaches us, demanding to know why we're breaking curfew.

      I look at O'Neill, shrug. "No time like the present."

      We escape.

      Shift.

      I wander the same environment in my real life persona, trying to remember where I parked, and if it was in a tow-away zone. Several days have passed.

      Shift.

      I decide to go to one city or another. Calgary? I'm driving badly, wondering belatedly why I'm cutting so many people off. I end up walking into a store that I'm apparently the manager of. I watch someone in another store across the mallway play the guitar. I pull out an electric guitar from my stuff, even though I cannot play the guitar.

      Shift.

      I'm in Quickton, riding a bicycle and absently wondering why there are so many hills. I talk to a DC, a woman I apparently don't like very much, and retroactively acquire memories of whatever it is she's talking about.

      Shift.

      I'm on a farm for yet another family reunion. I'm pushing a steak around on my plate, mildly discomfited to realize that I've already been eating it. I decide to finish it anyway and ignore anything the anti-vegetarians around me decide to say. There's a woman with long, dark hair sitting beside me. She seems uncomfortable with all the religious proselytizing going on. I assure her that most of the godless heathens in the family (myself included) have already eaten.

      Shift.

      Playing with a dog.

      Shift.

      I'm to play the bad guy in some game. I adopt an atrocious English accent and hope the one English woman running around somewhere won't be too offended.

      Shift.

      I'm a female lawyer with an English accent, long dark hair, and a crisp grey pantsuit. I'm also very good at what I do. Also, evil.

      Shift.

      I'm jumping through impossible puzzles suspended over darkness. I'm communicating with someone via radio. I drop the rope. I jump down a couple levels, only to find it all tangled up. I'm presently annoyed by all that is paranormal, so I use a magic trick to cause the rope to "magically" raise itself to the next level. It involves wire.

      Shift.

      I'm standing in front of a magic shop.

      Shift.

      I'm in a mall. As Barbara Gordon, I talk to a cannibalistic hyena man. I'm replacing my right arm with something, and the hyena man tells me that they've ripped my arm off (before I jumped into the character) to make me more appetizing. I leave.

      A Pirate's Life. Scare Factor: 3.[/QUOTE]
    9. #33. Buffy, When You're Quite Possibly Evil, Maybe

      by , 06-14-2010 at 05:37 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      I am, once again, my female Lucifer character, where I introduce myself to people as Sam. I'm following a version of the character in which I'm sent from place to place through dimensional portals. I open the portals myself, but I have no idea where they lead to when I step through. I don't remember most of this dream, which is a shame, because it was fun. I think.

      I've secured myself an invite into the apartment. I don't need it; it's just polite. I open up the window and step inside and -

      splash

      - find myself doused in holy water. It has no effect, of course.

      Buffy is very suspicious of me, for good reason, I suppose. I'm not actually an antagonist to her and Angel, though. This time.

      Buffy, When You're Quite Possibly Evil, Maybe. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: I really wish I could remember more of this.

      Updated 06-16-2010 at 08:43 AM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid
    10. #21. Alternate Perspective Disorientation

      by , 06-14-2010 at 05:00 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Quote Originally Posted by Samael View Post
      I really haven't been lucid much since I've joined DV. Odd.
      I'm in an afterlife version of downtown Quickton, wandering is separately from a group of people. There are at least four people here, but only one that I'm dealing with directly. I'm my female Lucifer character, and a female character is my main focus. I am, quite benevolently, her guide.

      I look at the United Church. Cross streets on crosswalks. Generally being a smartass. There's a slight orange filter over everything.

      Driving with the group, trying to retrieve something. The ground turns to water. Trying to swim out with buckets. There's a girl with long, blonde curly hair and her boyfriend there, trying to stay afloat with the bucket they're carrying together. Quite a bit of leather between them.

      I'm myself, near an approximation of Quickton's high school. There's a lot of concrete. I'm dropping off something for my brother, Ben. I'm driving away down a dirt road when my car stalls, and won't start again. I put it in neutral and coast it down a dip in the road, out of the way. I get out of the car, take a shortcut through someone's house, nervous that the owner might catch me. Back yard, hallway, kitchen. Enter from the west, leave through the south. I have been here before.

      I'm an old woman sitting in the third or fourth car of a train. I have the car all to myself. It's cozy, and I'm sipping tea. Bored now. I climb out of a window on the side of the car and haul myself onto the roof. Jump over the other two cars, after curiously investigating the occupants, and greet the driver in the engine. She's looking off to the side, staring at something out of a window. I demand to know what she's looking at, because it might be important. She points, and I guess she's talking about my car.


      Ninja Grandma!

      I jump from the train without waiting for it to stop and walk through the dark green grass to the orange-lit streets. Traffic is backed up, though people are surprisingly patient. I walk to the very front of the traffic jam, and climb into my car.

      I'm a little girl, Alice, and I'm being forced to drive the car by my father/uncle/evil stepfather. I keep adjusting the seat so I can see properly. Driving down a highway, then down a hill under a tunnel in a city.

      Wandering through a grand manor full of rich red and orange hues to find my character sitting on the balcony. She looks extremely depressed, but it might actually be a spell. The other characters are concerned.

      We're in a cute little house on a hill, all pastels and green grass. I'm either the male or the female main character. Both are magic-users/witches/wizards. The family is almost identical to the Dursleys. Petunia has immaculately permed hair, Dudley looks like Harry, and so does Vernon, really. Except older. I'm aware that Vernon has been making deals with a minor demon/god who, in his true form, looks suspiciously like the Cheschire Cat.

      A conversation with the family ends with us being locked in the cellar. I'm a Mia Wasikowska version of Alice, unrelated to the Dursleys. I doubt I've ever met them before. Harry and I plot our escape.



      Later, I'm trapped at the kitchen table with Petunia and raspberry jam. Petunia's put on a veneer of politeness (while Harry is still in the cellar), using teatime as an excuse for an interrogation. Petunia doesn't think it's fair that our people keep secrets from her and her family* when the Dursleys are very obviously involved and in danger. Dudley lets us know from the door that Vernon is coming up the hill.

      Vernon isn't alone. He steps into the house, perfectly blank in every way. An old man in a bowler hat walks calmly up the trail. He's a dead ringer for the man from a previous nightmare. Or God.



      Petunia rushes to Vernon, asking what's wrong as Vernon stands motionlessly as a doll. I keep my attention on the man in the bowler hat, and nod slowly.

      "The Lunar God," I say.

      The man laughs and says yes, that's him, and Vernon's been dealing with him for quite some time.

      He's given up control to you, I say quietly. For everything.

      Well of course, but he didn't tell Vernon that beforehand. That would be a poor way to attract followers.

      And then I wake up.

      Alternate Perspective Disorientation. Scare Factor: 3.

      I always wake up when I meet that character.

      *She has a point.
    11. #17. The Devil, Oddly

      by , 06-14-2010 at 04:40 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Using characters from Fox and the Hound. I think the hunter is my father. I'm walking around our property, noticing that some areas are places you really shouldn't be hunting around.

      Henry Spencer from Psych takes over the role of father. He's giving me a lift via boat to some point on the lake. Promises me lessons in something or other. I'm writing out a list/schedule for training.

      The devil is sabotaging our bet by making my workouts easier. I notice every once in a while that the machines are on an easier setting than they're supposed to be.

      The Devil, Oddly. Scare Factor: 2.
    12. #6. The Narrator

      by , 06-14-2010 at 03:24 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      March 12, 2010

      Damian is a semi-immortal thief from the "real world". While evading his current batch of pursuers, he is granted a wish from the devil, who introduces herself as Sam. After sending Damian home, for a price, She proceeds to wreak havoc at the christening of the princess, by giving her the gift of infinite will. This backfires spectacularly, when Sam (the devil) is drawn into the plight of a teenaged runaway several years later.

      I think it could make a very interesting series of short stories.

      Also, I was three separate characters during the course of this dream. I've been Damian, Sam, and The Reader of the story at various points, while reading emotions off of everyone else present. It was all very third person omniscient. Also, not the first time I've been the devil.

      Can you tell that I'm not religious at all? Protip: Satan is the good guy.

      The Narrator. Scare Factor: 2. Omniscience is so much fun.
    13. #2. Bureaucratic Hell

      by , 06-14-2010 at 03:05 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      March 9, 2010

      My name is Lucifer, and I'm busy.

      "But you have to stay here! You're the Lord of Hell!" says the ex-cherub, who seems to have been recast as my secretary.

      "I don't, actually. I've left this job once, and I'll leave again once I have this place reorganized." I'm standing up at a desk, looking at blueprints.

      I turn toward the ominous wooden door at the other end of the (hellish) office-space. The door leads to a dimension where damned souls are trapped. As they make their way to the door, they inch closer to the end of their torment. At which point, welcome to bureaucratic hell.

      He continues to pester me, "But God wants you to-"

      "Okay, look," I interrupt, "I don't care what God wants. In the actual comic book, Lucifer didn't care what God wanted. Every version of the devil, ever, actively resisted doing anything that God wanted him to do. So what makes you think that I care?"

      I realize that I've broken out of character at this point, but the demon seems to actively resist the idea that this is a dream and I'm not really Lucifer. I decide to be amused instead of summoning up a gale of fire with which to burn him alive. Because, as the devil, I could totally do that.

      Instead, I throw my hands up in the air, metaphorically, and walk through the now-open doorway to the realm of the damned. The door swings shut behind me, cutting off the shrill ranting of my unfortunate secretary.

      I take the form of a woman with short, blonde hair as I take the first steps into the realm usually thought of as Hell. This area is closest to the exit, and as such, is actually fairly pleasant in comparison to the rest of hell. This, of course, means that it's a boring approximation of a cave that slopes slowly downward. The cave curves away in the distance, and I know that it's an infinite spiral to the bottom.

      The soul nearest the door looks like a boy in his young teens, although he probably lived to be older than that. The boy is building a fence up the sloping ground, not noticing as it collapses into inexistance behind him. He is intensely focused on the task, trapped, as all the damned are, in a nightmare of his own creation. I approach, and as I do, I hear deep, threatening barking. The boy reacts in a panic, looking about wildly for the source of the noise, not seeing me.

      Part of the fence has been shaped into a basket-like form, with half-rotten plywood as the bottom. A rottweiler puppy comes into existence as I look at the space, and it barks at the boy. When the boy sees it, he starts to back away from the puppy, and away from the door.

      I'm standing directly beside the puppy, so I pick it up. The dog starts barking and the noise in the boy's nightmare lessens. I look at him, and he sees me for the first time. Finally, his eyes land on the door behind me...

      End.

      Bureaucratic Hell. Scare Factor: 3.
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