Things to Run Away From Really Fast

Mulcair kicks Harper out of his office, and the group of politicians and staffers watch a jug on the desk to see whether their party actually won the election. If the jug fills up with mostly orange liquid, the NDP definitely win.

They do, and the newspapers are printing stories that are all about the doom of Canada.

I'm apparently one of the staffers. Mulcair seems nice, even though (in the dream) he has a reputation of being quite cold and ruthless.

---

There's a family similar to the Queens in the first season of Arrow. The younger sister is angry and hurt because she's being deliberately shunned by another member of the family. They're in public, but she runs away from the group anyway, despite the paparazzi that are around. Some of them follow her, and she ducks into a seller's tent that is inside the mall to hide from them.

Later, a group of us are in an elevator. I'm examining the multiple security cameras, which apparently aren't operational because the family demands a lot of privacy.

There's a problem with the elevator. On the main floor, about half of us pile out quickly before the doors slam shut behind us and the elevator quickly starts going back up. The technician is working on the elevator so that it will come back down and let the other people out.

I briefly see the person that I reported to directly in a job that didn't work out very well earlier this year.

Beyonce is performing inside the mall.

---

I'm a teenager having a sleepover. We're all girls. There are three of us. One of the girls might not have asked her parents if she actually was allowed to sleep over.

We talk about how one of the girls really didn't like the imagination game that we were playing. I said that maybe we should play Gargoyles or something. She asks if that's a computer game? I say no, we could just pretend we were gargoyles, that would be more exciting than pretending we were in school (or that we were having a sleepover?)

That girl goes home in the morning. I ask her to tell her brother to call me (while making the "call me" hand gesture.)

---

There's narration, and a set. I'm both in the story itself and the story is being filmed. It's all about a whole bunch of "darker" characters interacting with one another. One of the characters who exists in the light is fascinated by the idea of talking to a couple of the characters who stay in the shadows.

★☆☆☆☆

09/30/10



I'm sitting at a table in a fancy cafe. The fancy cafe is next to the walkway of a mall. There's a lot of orange in the colour scheme.

My mom is sitting across from me, trying to order drinks from the waiter. He's looking at her skeptically.

"...the water and flour, please." she finishes.

The waiter doesn't write anything down. He's giving me a look, Is she serious?

I put my elbows on the table and rub my temples with two fingers. "We'll get a caramel macchiato and a chai latte."

The waiter nods and flees before my mom can say anything else.

"Why did you do that?" She demands. "Everyone knows the flour is a code for getting all the components of the drink separately. I want to mix it myself."

"Do you want the latte or the macchiato?" I say flatly.

Scare Factor: 1/10

★☆☆☆☆

I'm switching to the five star system for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it allows you, the reader, to know which of my entries are skippable (ie: this one). For another, I'm sure it will aggravate the person who keeps one-starring my entries. You know who you are.

I hate clothes shopping. Also, "blonde" isn't in my browser dictionary. Weird.

09/25/10



I need some new clothes for job hunting. In this frame of mind, I find myself in a moderately high-end clothing store in a mall. I'm looking along the racks on the wall, and I've found what appears to be a genuinely horrifying purple-striped dress shirt. It seems fine within the dream, though. I pick up a pair of pants or two, even though they're brown and probably won't fit properly. I've decided that this store has shirts that fit really well, but I usually buy my pants at another store. I pick up another pair of jeans and head over to the changing rooms.

"Doors are unlocked, right?" I ask the salesperson behind the counter.

"What?" She looks up. She's blonde, early twenties, and has her hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looks me up and down, seemingly confused about something. I've probably switched genders in the last five seconds or something.

Time skip. I've finished trying things on. Now I'm looking at shoes.

Somebody get me out of here.

Scare Factor: Through the roof. (1/10)

Thursday, June 24, 2010

A note to our teenage adventure protagonist: we're totally messing with you.

Our surroundings are bright, a world of clear glass windows surrounded by sunlight. My footfalls are light and airy, bearing none of the gravity that this situation should require. I am calm, cool, and collected as I approach the dark-haired man at the top of the dias.

"You should know, Amon," I say, "That you can't possibly win."

Amon surveys the horizon, his back turned to me. "We don't have to do this," he says quietly. "You could give up the girl..."

"That's not going to happen."

Amon turns to face me, dark energy forming in a globe between his hands. He's still young. I barely have time to process the thought. I'm dodging. Blackness swallows up the staircase I was standing on a moment ago.

I bring my hands together, pull them apart in a quick motion. A lance of energy surges toward Amon, aiming for the heart.

I'm sitting at a four-person booth in a restaurant, nursing a cup of coffee. I hold it up and breathe in the warm scent, before setting it back down with a clink on the table. I glance up at Amon, who's sitting across from me at the table. The corner of his mouth is twitching up into a smile, though he's trying to suppress it.

Beside me is the girl I was talking about before, our protagonist, Sasha. I love playing a supporting character. She's glancing up at Amon and back at the table, trying to look for all the world like she's not about to bolt at the first sign of hostility.

I have to chuckle. "So. Do you think this counts as an anti-climax?"

Amon's about to point out the double-entendre, but Sasha cuts him off.

"What the hell, ---?" she says, twisting to face me directly. "He was trying to kill you!"

"Nah," I say, leaning back in my seat, "Amon and I aren't enemies. Are we, Amon?"

"Nope," he says, barely keeping a straight face.

"Tell him about your problem." I say, my expression far too earnest.

"I can't remember my parents' eye colours, okay? They keep changing!" Sasha springs up from her seat and stomps away to the restroom.

"Who pays attention to their parents' eye colours?" asks Amon.

"Weird people. Or very observant ones?" I wonder. "Anyway, I took a look at her memories, and they have been tampered with."

"And you just got rid of her. Am I thinking what you're thinking?"

I nod, gleefully. "We should investigate."

We slip away from the diner and back into the mall we just destroyed. I press a few random buttons on a keypad and the door opens with a hiss. I walk right in, Amon following close behind. We're in the clothing department, where a couple missing parents should be frozen as mannequins.

"If we have all of the permutations right," I muse, wandering over to a control panel disguised as a jewellery counter, "We should just be able to enter them here."

Amon presses a few places on a blank wall. As he touches them, the spots light up in squares. He finishes the combination and steps back. I hear a low hum permeate the air around us.

"I have a bad feeling about this." I mutter.

Amon shoots me a glare. "I don't like your bad feelings," says Amon. "They make bad things happen."

The mannequins in the display near us, half a dozen at least, start to twitch.

Mind Games. Scare Factor: 2.