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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. #176. Flight

      by , 01-12-2011 at 10:54 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      ★★★☆☆

      01/09/11

      I just found a Star Wars game for my phone. I decide to try it out, so I'm tilting it left and right, figuring out the controls. Spacebar is jump.

      I'm in the game. My surroundings are a dank green, covered in vines and rot. This was a school once. I try out the jump command, disappointed when I realize I have only first-level force jump. It doesn't matter; I'll be able to get around just fine.

      Obi-Wan's shade appears beside me to explain my mission. This is strange, because I'm pretty sure I'm a past version of him. The force ghost fizzles out and disappears, exploding into four green blobs of goo. They reform and immediately begin to scuttle about, taking shape as Gravelings, mischievous reptilian creatures that arrange the accidental deaths of the people around them.

      I strike with my single lightsaber, v-stepping in and twisting away after I cut through the torso of one of the gravelings. The creature goes still in shock, before it disintegrates in a flash of red sparks. With a sweep of my lightsaber, the others are scuttling away. I finish them off with force lightening.

      Later, alone in an empty room, I suddenly realize that I'm dreaming. It feels like waking up. I try to remember my goals, but I come up blank. Fine - I'll run. I love to run in dreams. I take a running start and leap from a four-foot ledge.

      In one reality, I can feel myself flying.
      I drift away, into the blue, blue sky, heedless of the ceiling that used to be there. Simultaneously I'm falling, landing. I can feel the remnants of the other reality until all four of my limbs slowly reach the floor. I lay my forehead onto the cold cement and just breathe.

      I see Zoe, walking away into a crowd of faceless people. I call out to her, chase after her. Her blonde hair swishes as she half turns, keeps walking.

      We're sitting side by side, looking at the massive crowd milling about through the mall. She's counting the cash in a till.

      "There's something you want to tell me," she says, flipping through a pile of five dollar bills.

      "Yep."

      She scowls, but doesn't turn to look at me. "Well?" she asks, "What is it?"

      "You could say," I smile faintly, "That I have slightly more than platonic feelings for you."

      Her hands go still. "Oh."

      "But that doesn't matter," I say, leaning back.

      "And why is that?"

      "Because," I say, and I stretch my hands out in front of my face, "None of this is real."

      And the dream dissolves into static.


      Running. Scare Factor: 3.

      Updated 01-17-2011 at 03:20 AM by 31096

      Categories
      lucid
    2. #111. Hazel

      by , 07-22-2010 at 01:42 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      07/21/10

      I try to figure out this teleporting thing. Hazel helps out.



      The scene drifts into focus. I'm sitting on the cool, freshly trimmed grass outside the Ixburg Inn. My surroundings are hazy, and I feel half-asleep.

      It's one of those late-morning, about to wake up dreams. I dig my fingers into the soft grass and soil. I'm dreaming, I tell myself. I'm lucid.

      I stare at the yellow metal siding of the warehouse beyond the fence, trying to remember my lucid goals. I can't remember the first one, so I go down the list until something pops out at me.

      #2. Find Hazel.

      I feel for my phone in the front left-hand pocket of my jeans. The colours around me start to grey out, and I slowly lower my hand to the ground. I grab fistfuls of grass and breathe deep, watching the sky get brighter and bluer as I calm down. Sunlight beams down from the sky. I'm facing the other direction, toward the back of the motel rooms. There are apple trees beyond the fence.

      I slip my hand into my pocket (left-hand, right-hand, there isn't any difference) and pull out my phone. I think I should try this method one more time before I give up on it.

      Leaning against the red fence, I mash seven random digits into the keypad (one of them is an "8") and hold the phone to my ear. It rings twice.

      "Hello?" says a female voice on the other end.

      "Hazel?" I ask. "Are you asleep?"

      "Obviously." She seems amused.

      I shake my head. I'm still not sure this is really Hazel. "Want to try to meet up?"

      "Can you teleport?"

      I hesitate.

      An impatient noise from her end of the phone, and Hazel is standing in front of me. The chin-length black hair is her dream-avatar's most distinctive feature, and I doubt it's what her hair looks like in real life.

      We're standing on the other side of the fence, drifting slowly westward without my knowing. A DC lurks at the periphery of my awareness, and I think it's a childhood friend.

      We discuss the best way to get back to her dream. I explain an idea I've been putting together, that instead of opening a portal or a door, I just need to imagine the new setting and drift slowly into it. The danger is in how easily this could trigger a false awakening.

      Hazel says she wants to try something. She touches my forehead with two fingers. I fall back onto the tall grass, frozen in place. I can't move, and the scene is fading into black. I'm not worried, though. She starts talking, describing the setting of her dream.

      I pop back into existence between one second and the next. I can still hear the words, but they sound like nonsense. I'm surrounded by orange wooden cabinetry, and I think I'm in a basement. The narration starts to describe the exact kind of cupboard exists across from me, and I snap, "Okay! I get it! I'm here!"

      I'm sitting down on a bunk bed when Hazel appears again. The dream destabilizes.


      I "wake up".

      I'm in the basement of a church, or maybe my late grandma's house (she was a minister). I'm trying to find a bible, because the narrator has apparently been quoting bible verses at me.

      I'm flipping through the book, but I don't remember the order. "Where was Ecclesiastes, again?

      "Near the end," says Grandma.

      I mutter something about having had these memorized at one point.

      The dream ends.

      I'm the commander of a fleet of ships, taking shelter in an empty harbour. A woman with long, blonde curly hair stands beside me, asking about the clouds on the horizon.

      "Those are pure ozone," I tell her. "They're poisonous, but they won't come up onto the coast."

      "I wish we could go out to them," she says wistfully.

      Looking at the swirling mass of dark clouds, I almost agree with her.

      Hazel. Scare Factor: 3.


      Haaaazel, you're being all mysterious and otherworldly. Stop it.

      Also: Facebook, guys? Really?
    3. #97. Telephone, Take 2

      by , 07-02-2010 at 08:40 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Friday, July 2, 2010

      Teleporting is hard.

      I'm standing by a river. The sky is bright blue, and the dry grass is long and yellow. I'm looking up at the sky, staring at an illusion that's some kind of sculpture, a clue into my quest during this dream. (This was a long and meandering dream, but I don't remember most of it.

      I'm the producer for a play. It's going well, but during the middle of it, Harley Quinn and the Joker show up and start dancing. The crowd cheers, and I'm not sure if this is part of the play or if the characters actually showed up.

      "Write as if it was my plan all along." - written in journal

      There's a parkour club in Quickton. I tag along.

      ---

      I'm Harry Potter, fighting Voldemort. He sends me into an alternate dimension, and I have to get back to my friends. There are death eaters in the buildings around us, raining down stunning spells as if they're snipers. "If you get hit seven times, you're dead," says my companion. I deliberately get hit by stunning spells, counting, and they send me back to the previous dream.

      The windows are leaking. We have to stop it because the magic could get in. We're holding the building against Voldemort, but it's going to be destroyed soon anyway, so we do a quick job. Hermione staples stucco wire under the windows, and I use an air nailer to keep the frame in place. The way that I'm holding it in the dream would probably break my hand IWL.

      I'm either Harry or Voldemort, fighting the other one. "Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!" I shout, matching the other character spell for spell, effectively blocking them. I realize I'm probably Voldemort. "Avada Kedavra!" Seriously, these spells are kind of hard to remember.

      ---

      One of Ben's friends, a guy my age, is pissed because I just told him off for something. He throws a few punches my way, but always misses. He attacks me in earnest, throwing punches hard and fast. I block them easily, redirecting them in circles. One punch hits me, but I barely feel it. The guy is getting more and more frustrated.

      Finally, my brother pulls him off me, and we go rob a grocery store.

      ---

      FA. I wake up in a house that resembles my rental in Squamish. Ben and my cousin Reg are in the basement. I look at my right hand and count my fingers. They're blurry, and my fourth and fifth fingers keep fading into one another. Weird. This doesn't feel like a dream. I try to remember a more dependable RC, and pinch my nose. I can still breathe, but shouldn't I be able to anyway? No, wait. I have my mouth closed. I really am dreaming. I wonder if the boys are gonna go all nightmarish on me.

      I think back to my lucid goals. 1) Talk to a DC on a phone. 2) Find Hazel. 3) Teleport. I go to pick up the landline, but change my mind and grab my cell phone beside my bed. I call someone; I don't remember who. I talk to them and hang up. I type into my contacts for Hazel, but the number isn't there. I phone information, ask for Hazel. The woman on the other end tells me crabbily that there are a lot of Hazels in the world, which one do I want?

      "The one from DreamViews, obviously."

      "This number is not in service."

      It's night outside. My mom is sitting in the car, apparently waiting for Ben. She has some weird emo-style haircut, and I'd be more weirded out if I didn't know this was a dream. I use telekinesis to lift up the fringe over her eye, checking for zombieness. Obviously, I'm not completely lucid. Ben leaves the house, catches a ride with my mom.

      Reg is still here. I have my hand outstretched, focusing on wherever Hazel might be. I'm trying to draw myself there so I can teleport. I turn around briefly.

      "How do I teleport?" I ask the DC.

      "How the hell should I know?" asks Reg. He pauses and sighs, "Just... stay like that for a while. Until you wake up."

      "Or it works?"

      "Like hell."

      The dream starts fading into different solid colours, and I wake up back in the Squamish-room.

      I hand check again. Most of my fingers are missing. I pinch my nose. Still dreaming.

      I go outside and there are a bunch of dogs on the porch. There are also a bunch of people talking about their pets.


      Telephone, Take 2. Scare Factor: 2.

      Updated 07-03-2010 at 10:16 AM by 31096

      Categories
      lucid
    4. #83. Telephone

      by , 06-20-2010 at 10:55 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Misha Collins advances his plans for world domination. Parents do not approve.

      So, I'm sitting on the couch in our old apartment in Ixburg. My dad and I are making fun of an awful movie we rented, which makes for the majority of our father/kid bonding time. Minus work, of course.

      The phone rings.

      My dad picks up the cordless, and I can hear the voice on the other end, asking for Jack. I recognize the voice and make a grab for the phone, but my dad holds it out of reach. Why is everyone taller than me?

      "Who's calling?"

      It's Misha, says the voice on the other end. My dad scowls and hangs up on him.

      "What?" I say, waving my arms. "Why would you do that?" I snatch the phone away and look at the call display, then throw him the phone and stomp off to my room.

      I send a text to the number I read on call display.

      Yeah, sorry about that. You should probably just call my cell.

      Telephone. Scare Factor: 1.


      This is getting out of hand.

      Updated 06-21-2010 at 06:28 AM by 31096

      Categories
      non-lucid