Things to Run Away From Really Fast

We finish our coffee and the blonde conference-goer shakes my hand with a smile. I hand her my card and grin back.

The waiter walks up as the woman leaves. He leans over the table to pick up empty plates, his long hair swinging a bit as he moves, and I lean back, holding my coffee.

"These new age yoga nitwits are easy pickings," I tell him conversationally. "They'll buy anything if they think it will help them along a spiritual path."

The two of us chat for a bit, and I give the waiter my card and head out.

Perspective switch

I'm the blonde "yoga nitwit" from before. I'm looking into a mirror, changing my hair and appearance to match my character. My husband comes into the hotel room and smiles at me.

"You got him?"

"He's hooked."

Someone comes and knocks at the window of the fire escape, and my husband dives for cover so that we're not seen together.

The manager of the hotel is explaining to us that they ran out of space, so there's going to be a whole bunch of kids sharing our suite.

"That's unacceptable," I tell him or her. Their gender presentation keeps shifting.

They shrug. "You still have the bedroom. It's just the living area and the bathroom that you have to share."

I look at the line that's formed in front of the bathroom and narrow my eyes, but I can practically see the timer for our op ticking down before my eyes.

"Get out," I tell them. "I'll deal with this later."

We probably have to scrub the op.

I'm on another part of the same floor when all hell breaks loose. I'm pinned by a couple of girls from high school and a man is dumping cages full of dangerous things on me, which I'm deflecting. I break loose, wearing the guise of a brown-haired Samael.

"Get back, fiend!" says a booming voice, and Thor is swinging Mjolnir past my head. I dodge across the room, and the hammer comes flying at my stomach.

Oof. Confirming that sacred objects can still knock the wind out of you. Good thing I'm invulnerable, or this probably would have torn straight through my chest cavity. I still go flying, knocking down a wall behind me. Splinters of wood go flying everywhere, and I pick up the hammer.

Just as an enemy agent pops out with an AK-47. I'm swinging Mjolnir by its strap to ricochet the bullets back at my enemies, and then I'm letting the hammer fly—

And I throw myself through the door into the hotel room.

"Elhaz," I command, waving a hand at the wall and weaving protection into the doors and windows. Overwhelming force, meet immutable object. That should buy me a moment's peace.

I wave my hand in a pattern, more jerky than it needs to be, and glance up from the floor at Sandman's Lucifer, who's standing on this side of the door and looking at me with a nonchalant expression.

"You were supposed to be covering my back," I accuse.

I bicker with my counterpart. The two of us are the same person in different universes, or maybe opposite sides of the same coin.

---

I'm walking on the side of a highway in the mountains. A girl has stopped me to ask about backpacking, and I say that I'm just walking from inside the town to the campsite on the mountain.

"Really? I've never been there," she says.

"You should; it's the best climbing spot in the area."

My name is Honor Harrington, and I'm biking down a path in a valley. In the centre of the valley is a school, and I hop off my bike to go investigate.

I sneak in through an unalarmed pair of double doors, and look around the main floor.

The intercom is blaring something. My communications device is picking up another frequency.

Honor Harrington is there? says an alarmed voice. We can't let her get to the balcony!

The balcony. Interesting. I'd better get up there, then.

I still haven't been spotted; they just know I'm in the area. I pick the doors that I walk through and the shadows that I creep through carefully, and make it to the room by the balcony. There's a bench there, and I poke at it to find a secret compartment filled with papers; glossy, like a magazine. I feel a stab of betrayal; J at the church put them there.

I need to unravel what's going on here. But first, I need to make my escape.

---

I drive my car into the parking lot at the school and step out. It's a work night for a local club, where we all sit and chat and work on projects. I used to volunteer with them, but it's been a while since I've gone.

I'm inside, working on my project, but my hackles rise as a woman walks behind me. Apparently while I've been gone, one of the only really bad bosses that I've had has risen through the ranks of the organization. I try to ignore her, but leave soon after.

09/04/10



An airplane flies through the sky, slightly above the white clouds below. I'm a passenger, sitting in a window seat. The plane starts to descend.

It's not supposed to. I'm willing the plane to keep a straight course, trying to pull up the nose of the plane. It's not working. I let go, hoping that when we get underneath the clouds, it'll be easier to keep the plane level.

We hit white, fluffy clouds and suddenly, they aren't so fluffy anymore. The plane disappears, and I land in cold, white snow. I look around, realizing that I'm on the side of a mountain. There are pine trees all around me.

So I'm dreaming. I'm in a forest, so that makes this the perfect time to work on Nomad's task. I appear within a cluster of trees, looking out over a snow-covered clearing. I know that I need a mirror, so I focus on pulling something together, a plain rectangle. Golden lines of light create an outline, the most light sparking around the corners.

I can't hold it. The image falls away.

Goddammit.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 4/10

Funny thing. A couple days ago, I couldn't find the can opener. Now, I have a swiss army knife with a can opener, so I reached into my pocket to find it. I knew that it wasn't in my pocket, but I figured I could will it there.

Wait.

I reality checked and realized that I was awake.

Boring dreams ahead.

08/06/10

I wake up, hearing the phone ring. I stumble out of bed, cursing because I was planning to sleep in and order room service.

Oh, yeah. I'm staying in a hotel. I've been driving for a really long time, and I'm in a big city in the US, I think.

Where is that damn phone? I run out of the hotel room and into the living room. There are a bunch of blue-uniformed maids in there, standing in a circle and gossiping. I ignore them, vaulting over the couch to get to the cordless phone in the far corner of the room.

I pick it up on the last ring, and the answering machine clicks on. The tone goes off, and my uncle Roy starts to leave a message.

"Hey, there. We thought you'd be in town, so -"

"I'm here, Uncle Roy. What's up?"

Roy tells me that the rest of the family is in town, and they want me to come have dinner with them. I tell him, stiffly, that that would be fine. Really.

"Great. We'll pick you up in a half hour."

I try to protest, but he hangs up before I can. Sighing, I hang up the phone, wondering if I have enough time to order room service before I leave. Chances are, nothing my family is serving will be vegetarian.

I'll have to survive on the side dishes, though. I'd rather have a shower.

The rooms have morphed into a hostel-like configuration, with a shared bathroom and living space. Kitchen, too. I rush into the shower before an older woman can take it, and she stalks away, sulking.

When I get out of the shower, at least four of my relatives, all women from my mother's side of the family, are doing dishes in the kitchen. I tell my grandma to leave them alone, since those aren't my dishes, but whatever.

I'm at the supper when I realize my grandma died a few years ago. I rationalize this by deciding that the woman must be her sister (but I use my great grandmother's name).

***

I'm on a ski hill. My skis keep crossing.

I remember that I wanted to go on a hike. One of the trails leading up the mountain will take me to a part where it's summer.

I go to drop off my skis in a locker, then head over to the chair lift. A preteen girl is nervous about getting on the lift, but her family is coaxing her on.

***

I'm wandering around, taking down my posters. They all have writing on them, which is research for the high school newsletter I apparently publish. I'm worried about finishing it before the summer break next week.

The building is supposed to be high school, but it looks more like my old university campus.

I posted a map of the ski resort from the previous dream, but it's a really bad photocopy. A memory plays through the room. A teacher speculates on the source of the posters.

Potluck. Scare Factor: 1.

07/20/10

I take invulnerability for granted.

I'm chasing after a kid on skis, speeding down a snow covered hill in Ixburg. Since when does Ixburg have hills, anyway?

When I get to the bottom, the kid is jumping onto the nose of a helicopter. The helicopter sways dangerously, the kid's weight moving it off balance. I'm the pilot now, trying to keep the machine on course.

I'm in my high school, in English with my eighth grade class. Our homeroom teacher says we have to get our heads in the game, as we'll be in grade twelve before we know it, and that'll be goddamn hard.

"Grade 12 was easy," I mutter.

A couple classmates look at me incredulously.

"Time travel." I shrug.

I go outside. I'm standing in the courtyard in front of the school when Mal Reynolds swoops in, shouting that we've lost Zoe - she's been kidnapped.

I call Zoe's cell, not really expecting her to pick up. The phone does get picked up, though, and I hear a male voice on the other end. We chat about kidnapping and hypothetical ways that everybody can get what they want, like our first mate back in one piece. We get along very well.

I tell Mal that he can land Serenity (the ship) on the top of the Ixburg apartment block. Wait, do my parents still live there? It's really hard for me to remember where in the timeline we are. I know that I'm dreaming, but it doesn't really register as important.

Walking along the top of the hill, I look at the horizon, and am surprised to realize that it's suddenly a lot lower. I'm walking along the cliff side of the Stawamus Chief, looking out over Squamish.

I happily run through what seems like a set freerunning route, making impossible jumps and pushing myself farther than I ever would in real life. I aim for a two-inch stick jutting up for the ground, try to land on the top -

Later, I poke around outside of a missile launch site. Some kind of shuttle is getting sent up into the air, and I'm informed via comlink that anyone outside is about to die a horrible and painful death. The countdown has already started.

I see two more people snooping around, both guys dressed in black. They seem clumsy and incompetent, and I wave at them when they finally notice me. They stalk towards me threateningly.

...three, two, one, lift off!

The air is filled with swirling shards of glass. White light burns down from above, refracted by the bloody glass and singeing the ground below.

The moment ends. The two thugs are a charred mass of bone, strewn about the untouched grass.

I wander down another hill, into an alley. I'm with a group of boys, and we've all joined up our bicycles into a chain that we've lit up with Christmas lights. Another bike speeds down the alley, lit up with neon, and I take a moment to appreciate how awesome it looks.

The boy at the front of the chain doesn't notice, though. He cuts off the neon-lit bike, and the rider crashes into the second and third bikes in the chain.

The four boys are swearing at each other, and the situation is about to escalate into violence. Calmly, I go over to the broken neon bike, and fix the chain and the broken cables. The owner notices that I'm touching his bike, and it distantly occurs to me that he might try to pick a fight with me next. I'm not worried.

The light sputters back into life.

Hills. Scare Factor: 2.

I wrote a couple interesting dreams in my handwritten journal this weekend. I'll make time to type them up sometime this week. I had a really vague string of lucid FAs, too.

ETA: "rocket launch, people die" was scribbled in the margins of my notebook. I can't believe I missed that. I bet it was exciting.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

I wander a city, searching for my skydiving class.

I'm in a plane about the size of a crop duster. My mom is piloting. We're angling to land on the top of a mountain, where there's a gas station.

I'm trying to get to a weekend course on skydiving. We wonder if I have to jump out of this plane to get to the course.

We land, avoiding the cars in the parking lot (on top of a mountain). I kick off of a maroon minivan in the parking lot, adjusting our course so we don't hit it.

We talk to the people inside, but this isn't where the course is. We have to keep flying.

Back on the plane, I wonder if we have enough of a runway to take off again. My mom shrugs and we go flying off the cliff. We stay in the air.

It's a tight fit between two pillars of stone. I'm worried we might hit, but my mom effortlettly steers us through them. Wow. She's better at driving than she usually is in dreams. I mean, there was this other dream with the truck where she kept almost hitting other cars...

(How did I miss that?)

I check my backpack and find an oxygen mask and a parachute.

We're back on the ground, in a car. I still have no idea where I'm supposed to go; there's no map in the brochure. Hours fly by. I was supposed to be there in the morning, and it's now 1:00PM on a Friday.

We stop at a store. Ben says his friend lives above the shop. They're selling Halloween costumes.

Perfectly Good Airplanes. Scare Factor: 1.

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.

Briefly, I'm Shawn Spencer from Psych. I check my backpack for water. I have a little over two bottles left. It's around 4PM. I decide to do the 3KM hike instead of the 5KM hike; I'll probably be back by 6PM and I'll get to the first peak of the Chief. The route is a combination of my running route here and the real hike in Squamish. I don't have a map with me, but I know the trail well enough.

Similar location, female form. I'm talking to either my Oma or my Aunt Audrey. They keep switching. I'm watching the fire. There's something flammable (fireworks, ammunition?) in one of the wooden containers being licked at by the flames.

I'm in a restaurant of a hotel with my mom and great grandma. Our tables are switched. I have a copy of a menu in my hand, and two spoons because I was holding one from the other table.

I'm (working) in an office building. I keep speaking to bosses higher-up. I think one of them looks familiar (might be Jameson from Spider-man movies).

I'm an American sniper in America and I'm being shot at. I'm with several other snipers at the top of a very tall tower surrounded by water surrounded by a city which might be San Francisco. I'm standing up, but I'm quickly pulled down by another man when I become aware of being in someone else's sights. A missile heads toward us on a crazy, spiralling course. It explodes over our heads.

Patrick and Spongebob's houses are split in half and combined with Squidward in the middle, freaking out. Flashback to Patrick and Squidward trying to play a practical joke on Spongebob. A stone statuette of a face embedded in rock.

Restaurants With Poor Customer Service. Also: Missiles. Scare Factor: 2.