Things to Run Away From Really Fast

Prev night: stole a combine with my mom and tried to harvest someone else’s field? Attempted to escape on motorbikes and was cornered in a shop/garage of some kind.

---

My in-laws come to pick up me and my brother at my old apartment building to drive us to school. It’s a five-minute walk, but it’s nice of them to offer. When we get to the school, traffic is being redirected away from the parking lot out into the county. We drive a few minutes before getting to another school where their kids go, and we have to… walk back into town? Maybe there’s a shuttle?

---

I’m at my old apartment building talking to S. She’s apparently using the laundry at this building because it’s a nicer laundry facility than any other place in the city. I’m trying to work the laundry machine, but I’m having trouble sorting out delicates from the other stuff, especially because as I’m sorting them, the basket/machine is filling with water, soaking the clothes. I start finding monopoly money that looks really similar to real money, and I joke with S that it’s just like that fake million dollar bill. Apparently she’s brought a monopoly set so that people can play it while they’re waiting for their laundry.

---

I wake up lying in the street. I’m obviously not in the city I thought I was in. I hear fabric flapping, and I see that I’m in a valley of some kind. Near the top of a nearby mountain, there are a series of flags flapping in the breeze. I remember that I want to attempt to teleport, but I don’t remember where I want to teleport to, so I decide to just go with a previous dream, because it’s fresh in my memory. I aim for the apartment building.

Things are hazy, but I close my eyes and picture it. I open my eyes a couple of times and have wound up in the wrong place, but I try again until I reach the apartment building. Now that I know where I am, I continue with my road trip.

★★★☆☆

Four hours of sleep, and suddenly this monstrosity comes along. It's fairly disjointed; I don't have a whole lot of time to play with it, so without further ado...

10/18/10



Harry Potter tries to mess with the fabric of reality, I have diabolical plans, and Dumbledore disapproves as usual.

"Just think about it," I tell her. "With this kind of breakthrough, we could completely alter the way humans perceive reality!"

Sophie looks up at me, skeptical, one hand keeping her place in the textbook. She's holding a pen in her other hand, and she taps it impatiently against her notebook. She pushes a few strands of short red hair out of her eyes, and says, "I know what happens when you try to play mad scientist, Harry."

We're sitting across from each other at a long wooden table. Sophie's studying - this is a library, after all. The interior is almost entirely decorated with red-stained wood, giving the impression of a highly modern, really big log cabin. With lots and lots of glass (and books). Sunlight streams in from the huge windows, and outside is a view of the forest, and the other school buildings in the clearing.



"Chaos, generally." I say, grinning. Some of the other students notice that I'm grinning, and quietly begin to edge away from us. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

skip

There's this thing I have to do on the computer. It's very important. I'm sitting outside on the green grass, trying to do this very important thing, when - hey, will you look at that? Dumbledore's on Skype!

Albus Dumbledore appears in a new window, looking very grave indeed. This is somewhat offset by all of the spinning and twirling metal gadgetry on his desk.

"Harry," says Dumbledore gravely, "I've received word of the research you've begun."

"Really?" I say, looking up from Minesweeper. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

He sighs. "Harry," he repeats, "This is not a road you cannot walk down unscathed. You'll be returning to Hogwarts."

"Um..." I say slowly, "No."

"By force, if necessary."

My computer pings.

"Did you just -" I say, looking at the screen, "Did you just track my location through my internet connection? You realize I'm on a different PLANET? How the hell does that even -"

But Dumbledore's appearing at the edge of the wards, walking into the school grounds the only way he can. I meet his eyes for just a moment, and I disapparate.

skip

Moving through Ixburg, and I'm running. I'm moving through a jobsite, people from my hometown who were, apparently, in direct competition with my family's business. By some sort of mutual agreement, they all ignore my presence, and I pass through completely unnoticed.

Back doors of the grocery store and I'm having a conversation with someone before I disappear again -

Narcissa Malfoy. We're standing in some anonymous hallway of a starship, looking out into the black.

"I don't disapprove of your cutting his influence out of your life," she's saying, "But I'm not convinced that making an enemy of Dumbledore will be conducive to your goals."

"There are greater forces at work here. He may get in my way," I say coldly, "But he can't stop me."

Narcissa nods once, sharply. "Very well. My family is at your service, as always."

I'm closing my eyes, casting my senses out into the nothing. Golden light is cutting through the darkness, pushing it away, burning.

"You need to leave," I tell my informant, and I'm hurtling out into the void of space, an ethereal being of energy and animal and just a sliver of humanity. And the burning, fierce presence is crying out, raising its wings.

Fawkes.

He's found me through Harry's holly wand, called by the phoenix feather within. I smile and pull another wand from my sleeve, one made of ebony. And as the phoenix is upon me, I call up the Void, and I meet the creature's light with an unfathomable darkness.

Boom.

(O'Neill: What the hell was that?)
(Carter: I don't know, sir, but it almost blew straight through our shields. We're lucky it wasn't closer.)

"Grab my arm." I tell Sophie. We apparate from planet to planet, trying to get Dumbledore off our trail. One, two, three, four, five. Hoth, Antarctica, Europa, Tartarus, Miranda.

I appear in the woodshop of the school in the clearing. There's another person in the room.

"Where is my daughter?" The woman asks.

I look around, but Sophie's nowhere to be seen.

Dumbledore.

skip

"Aurors and their locking spells," I mutter, pointing my ebony wand at the door. The lock clicks, and I open the door to the super-secret impenetrable Unspeakable Library. "Well, come on." I hiss at the nervous man behind me.

The two of us shuffle into the library and quietly barricade ourselves in one of the rooms. We're pretty sure that the information we need is here.

The man is flipping through a card catalogue, mumbling under his breath. I'm scanning the books on the shelf, but something seems out of place. I feel a presence. Thinking it's a guard, I make my way over to one of the closed doors and peer through the keyhole. I'm looking for the beam of a flashlight.

At first, I don't see anything. The hallway is white, and bare, and dark. I look through at a different angle, and

look directly into blood red eyes. There's no pupil, iris, sclera, it's all a murderous shade of red, and for a moment, I'm held captive by the gaze. I notice, peripherally, that she's a ghostly little girl in a tattered white dress and everything is bleeding into itself

She flickers, like a strobe light. In and out of existence, and suddenly, she's in the room with us

Harry is terrified, and I'm calm. The ghost is on us, tearing into our essence, and Harry is terrified but I know that there's no danger but I can feel his fear

Everything's going dark

And I wake up, disoriented, in a pitch black room.

Scare Factor: 4/10

Oh. It was a dream.

It made sense at the time?

Recall's a bit fuzzy. This happened in the middle of the night, and I didn't get up to write it down. In the morning, I originally woke up with the vague impression that I might have had a lucid.

Slept quite well, though. I was in a very good mood for a while.

09/24/10



Staring at a grey carpet floor, I am fully aware that I'm in a dream. I don't bother with a reality check, but I do take a moment to stabilize my surroundings (do nothing). I'm concentrating on the carpet, for some reason. Next time, I should probably focus on the rest of the room.

Nomad's RPG task is to rescue the demon boy. I imagine myself in a forest, an aura of fear tinging the air. I wait for the faint pull that will take me from one dream to the other, and

End recall.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 4/10

And then, at work, I hit myself with a crowbar in the face. Ow.

Actors are running amok in my dreeeeaaaaams.

09/21/10

Don't leave your distractions up to me. Things will get dark.

I'm leaning over the stone railing of the balcony, stretched out under afternoon sunlight. The balcony overlooks the city below, with its clay tile rooftops and climbing ivy. This place is teeming with life, and I allow myself to bask in its positive energy. Looking at the roads below, I can see -

Wait.

"Is that guy riding a unicorn?" I ask.

The soldier standing next to me, dressed in forest green camo, puts a hand above his eyes and squints. "Oh, yeah. That's the pizza guy."

"The pizza guy." I repeat flatly. "Of course."

The pizza guy has convinced his unicorn to go up a flight of steps. As he turns the corner, I see his face. I bury my head in my hands.

I appear outside next to him. "Really, Misha?" I say, "You know what'll happen if they catch you?"

He says something.

I shake my head. "The stage is set." I make a grand gesture with a sweep of my arm. "Your distraction is ready."

How many pizzas would you need to feed a platoon of soldiers, anyway?

Vampires.

The girl looks maybe thirteen years old. She's quiet and sullen, and thirty vampires are following her through the darkness.

She didn't mean to turn them. Well, not all of them. As their sire, she's responsible for them, and needs to keep them under control.

I really need to kill a few, she thinks.

She keeps three.

"Rosie," she says, "It doesn't have to be this way." She's staring at the animated corpse of her friend. She turned Rosie into a vampire to save her life.

Rosie laughs, trapped as she is within the circle. Still grinning, she'll speak the words that will damn her friend forever.

Flashback.

This is the girl vampire's past. She's still human, up in the building that I just left, protected by a platoon of pizza-ordering soldiers in forest green.

The soldiers are all dead, attacked by vampires. The girl is injured, bleeding. There is one soldier left, a recurring character. He turns around to reassure her, tell her they'll be all right. He lowers his weapon.

"Look," I say gleefully. "You can see the precise moment that she turns."

She's a vampire now. She kills the soldier.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 4/10

I realize this was probably confusing. I've got nothing.

Do you think this counts as anachronistic naming, or am I just getting lazy?

WBTB after #148 (which was better), so I'm posting this one on its own.

This may have almost been a WILD.

09/18/10



When I come to, I'm lying on the floor. I'm also dreaming. I place my hands on the floor in front of me and run them through the grey shag carpet, trying to stabilize.

I get up, and go to walk out the door. I notice the lights are off. I decide to test whether I can turn them on and off, since light levels often change during my dreams. I flick the switch, but nothing happens. Huh.

I'm walking through the hallway, feeling the rolled on paint, trying to remember what I was supposed to do.

I pop my head into a bedroom. There are people lying all over. There are a few on the bed, a few more lounging on the floor.

"Hey," I ask my in-dream roommate, a girl on the bed who looks like Halle Berry. "Have you seen Zoe?"

"She said she'd be at the party tonight."

The dream fades into the party. I'm somewhat surprised; that's almost like teleportation.

Lose recall.

My parents drop me off at an apartment in downtown Calgary. I have two half-empty cardboard boxes with me. Both my mom and my dad are very disapproving about my decision to move to Calgary.

We're driving through downtown, away from the skate park my brother wanted to go to. I see a couple of the people from the No Limits parkour group (I don't know them IWL), practicing as we drive by. I point them out to the other people in the car.

Different dream.

Zoe has a little brother, in this dream. I steal a set of Janitor's keys from him and he chases me through the building.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 3/10

Everyone's dreaming about carpet.

No recall whatsoever from last night, so here is my only recent lucid.

08/16/10



I'm in a house with many rooms, interlocking and placed at odd angles. My surroundings are mostly wood - hardwood floors and ceilings, solid oak banisters as I climb the stairs. There's a darkness here, I can feel it, caused by a multitude of tortured spirits trapped within the rooms.

I'm looking for one in particular.

At the top of the stairs, on the second floor, I come to a bathroom. I nudge the door open. It creaks as it moves, opening into a plain bathroom. The floor is dark tile, and there's an empty jacuzzi tub to my left. On the right side of the bathroom is the vanity, and on the far right of the room is a shower stall.

I step into the room and close the door behind me, knowing that this is where my clue is. I stand straight and compose myself, reaching for a particular feeling. I focus on cold, inky blackness, on the unyielding terror of a nightmare, and pull it from inside me. I watch the paint on the walls peel, rust streaking across water-soaked walls.

It has something to do with the water, I think vaguely, allowing myself to move on autopilot. I have to drown. I step into the shower stall, and watch the door close behind me. Water begins to gush into the stall, held in by the waterproof seal on the doors. It won't make any difference if I try to escape now. The water is up to my knees now, filling up fast. It takes only seconds to reach my neck, and in no time at all, I'm completely submerged.

I blink through the cloudy green haze that encompasses my vision. I feel calm, the quiet confidence that accompanies lucidity. I take a breath, and feel clean fresh air enter my lungs. My breathing pattern is steady.

I step out of the shower stall as the water drains away, and look at the tub across from me. It isn't empty.

Blood overflows from the white acrylic tub, spilling over the side and staining the tile floor. In the water is a body, twisted and mutilated. Its skin is flayed off, and its stringy hair hangs limply into the water. The creature grasps weakly at the side of the tub and lifts its head, trying to crawl out.

I meet the thing's eyes, and go to kneel beside it.

"Your employment ended poorly, I take it."

I saw this man in an earlier dream. A mercenary. He and his brother worked for an enemy of mine. They tried to kill me at the time.

He mumbles something.

"You're dead." I inform him.

A hollow, rasping laugh.

"Tell me where to find him."

He does.

I leave the apparition to his torment, and let the nightmare fall away. I'm standing in the hallway, looking out into the bright sunlight.

Maybe I'll go flying.

The Otherworld. Scare Factor: 3.

I actually couldn't remember any specific task I wanted to complete at that time. I ended up searching in my long-term memory, and thinking of Walms. I actually managed to teleport somewhere to look for him, but no actual success.

I am, however, getting better at teleporting.

I ran into the person I was chasing later, as well. There was a lot of talking that I don't remember.

I feel like I'm writing bad fanfiction subconsciously. I find it interesting that in the past two months I've had several dreams that carry on from previous ones.

Also, more Lucifer.

07/23/10

Castiel gets captured. I offer to help with the rescue.

"Let him go, you bitch!" I shout.

"Oh, Dean," says Lilith. "You don't understand. You've already lost."

I hate losing.

I throw myself back through the dream, back through the sewers that lead to the Hellmouth, zooming back over flooded streets and abandoned rafts and into a warehouse that I fought my way through not long ago.(1)

I arrive before Sam and Dean Winchester ever found themselves ambushed here, taking up precious time in our search. I can't afford that loss again.

A man is kneeling on the floor at the center of the warehouse. His face and arms are bare, and I can see designs swirling everywhere on his exposed flesh in patterns of black and blue. The tattooed man paints symbols on the floor, dipping his fingers into a wooden bowl filled with something red and sticky.



"Damian Masters." I say tonelessly. My voice reverberates through the building. Damian stands up, startled, and I step out of the shadows.

"Who are you?" He rasps, panicked.

"Have you ever heard the name 'Samael'?" I ask him.

He shakes his head.

"I'm an angel." I manage to say it with a straight face.

Damian falls to the ground and bows his head. I try not to let my irritation show. "What can I do?"

"We have need of Dean Winchester," I say importantly. "Allow him to leave. Kill the other one."

"Of course," he breathes, "The boy with the demon blood."

I walk across the room, deliberately scuffing the blood sigil where it won't be noticed. I roll my eyes. "So mote it be." I say in a mocking tone.

***

Dean steps onto the oversized raft, stumbling a little as it bobs under his weight. He turns around and catches the knife Sam throws at him. He breathes out slowly once he catches his balance again. (2)

"Watch it, Sam. I don't want to go diving for this stuff." He rubs his eyes and sighs. "Be careful."

"You're doing the dangerous part," says Sam, rolling his eyes. "I'm just casting the spell here because it's on the right ley lines."

"Other people thought so, too," warns Dean. "That blood on the floor still looks fresh."

"Get on with it, Dean. Castiel's not getting out of Hell on his own."

Dean unties the rope from the pier and casts off, sending his brother a sarcastic two-finger salute. Sam grins and salutes back. He only watches Dean drift off for a moment, carried by the current through the flooded city. He picks up a canvas bag and spreads its contents over a table, ready to start the ritual.

He gets so caught up in his task that he almost ignores the little warning voice that goes off in his head. He dodges to the side as a fireball slams into the table, sending his ritual ingredients up in flames. Sparing no time for disappointment, he runs over to where the guns should be, only to find them... gone.

He turns around to face the other man. The tattooes on his face and arms, Sam thinks, they probably let him manipulate energy. The man's face is twisted into a triumphant grin, and Sam looks down, realizing he's at the center of the blood sigil on the floor. The tattooed man raises a hand, covered in glowing swirls, and presses it to the concrete.

***

His raft floats through the flooded city, guided by a spellbound current. The shadows of buildings jut out of the water, reaching toward the orange sky as if in their death throes. Barnacles cling to the rotting and rusting wood and steel. Some of the buildings have collapsed in on themselves, leaving twisted metal sitting low to the water. Dean steers carefully around them.



"Dean Winchester, yeah?"

Dean spins around with the knife raised. "Yeah? And who are you?"

The boat tips a little, and I look back at him, unimpressed. "I'm here to help," I say with a smile. "You can call me Lucy. Things will get confusing, otherwise."

"Really. Okay, Lucy," says Dean, "Why should I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't," I tell him honestly, "But I owe Castiel a favour, and I pay my debts."

Dean eyes me suspiciously, but he lowers the knife.

"Excellent." I say. "Now, we have a problem."

"Of course we do."

"Castiel's vessels have gone missing."

"His vessel? The guy he's possessing?"

"The daughter as well. You haven't met them yet?"(3) I receive an uncomprehending stare as my answer. "Whatever. He needs a vessel, and you're it." A pause. "Don't look at me like that, it's only temporary."

"Why not you?" asks Dean, "That'd be a good way to pay back your 'debt', wouldn't it?"

"How many humans do you know that can teleport onto a raft in the middle of nowhere?" I ask impatiently. "I'm an occupied vessel; it doesn't work that way."

Dean is silent as I latch onto the decorative post of a balcony and bring the raft to a stop. "We're hee-ere," I sing-song quietly, stepping onto the concrete deck. Dean shoots me a look, hand hovering near the gun concealed under his jacket.

We step through the archway, into a cobblestone hallway filled with rot and mold. Dean's nose scrunches in distaste, but I can't smell anything. A rusted metal ladder is built into the opposite wall, and I make a motion towards it. Be my guest.

Dean eyes the ladder. "I thought we were going into the sewers."

"We are." I confirm. Dean looks at me askance, and I roll my eyes. "We're walking towards a gateway to Hell! You can't expect reality to work properly."

Dean makes a disbelieving noise, but moves to the ladder and starts climbing up it. I follow a few seconds behind, looking up to track Dean's progress.

Wow. Those are some really nice jeans.

Climbing up brings us a level down, and we trudge through muddy water and orange-lit brick until we find an opening in the wall. Dean and I stand on either side of it, catching our breath and shaking out our shoes.

"Are you ready?" I ask. "Lilith's on the other side."

"Ready as I'll ever be." Dean shoots me a grin. We step through the opening.

It's bright. The gateway is orange-white, shedding the room with stark light and bleaching out the red brick. Lilith stands near the doorway, hands clasped loosely over her white dress. Her blonde hair flutters in a non-existant breeze.

I squint against the light. "Claire Novak?" I say incredulously. "Oh, irony of ironies. Nice one, Lilith."



The little girl smiles pleasantly. "I thought it was fitting, using an angelic vessel as my own." She holds a hand up to the light, studying her fingers. "It was actually quite simple to burn out the angelic protections."

"You're borrowing from Azazel." I muse, "His bastardising the Winchester line."

"Demon blood," snaps Dean. "Can we get on with it? If this is a seal, what did you need an angel for?"

"An angel?"

"Castiel." I supply helpfully.

Lilith laughs, her voice clear and deceptively innocent. "Oh, of course," she says, "Heaven has him, and I have no more need of opening seals. Lucifer walks the earth."

"What?"

"Castiel's superiors were unhappy with his exercising free will," I state calmly. "They're currently re-educating him."(4)

Dean rounds on me. "Whose side are you on?"

"Huh. Good question. I'm still going to need at least one of the vessels." I say to Lilith.

"Can we go back to the bit where Lucifer is free?"

"Dean, your presence is extraneous at the moment," I say, tilting my head sideways as I look at Lilith's teenage meatsuit. "Shut up."

Dean looks about ready to hit me, but I wave a hand and he collapses.

"My lord?" says Lilith carefully.

"Not today." I say, "Tell me, what is it you're after?"

"The end of all things." She responds immediately. "The apocalypse, which you are destined to bring about." (5)

I smile as I approach her. "Destiny," I say, placing a hand on her head, "Is bullshit."

Lilith's demonic form - grey and wispy and spiralling out of control - is forced out of Claire Novak's body. The light grey smoke hurtles toward the Hellmouth, screaming. It stills a second, pulling with all its might against the vortex, before succumbing to the orange-white light, falling back into Hell. The gate closes, dousing the room in shadow.

I will definitely regret doing that at some point.

I push the thought from my mind. In the next moment, I'm pulling on an incorporeal thread, tearing Castiel away from the torments of Heaven and back into human form. Blinding white light fills the room once more, before focusing on the girl.

Castiel opens her eyes.

"Lucifer," she says magnanimously.

I grin. "Hey, Cas. You should probably go rescue your other vessel. And Sam Winchester. Dean's fine," I say, seeing Castiel look over at the unconscious man.

There's an awkward pause.

"Why did you -"

"You let me go." I say, "Now we're even." (6)

I disappear without another word.

Castiel stares at the spot for a moment, before going over to Dean and tapping him on the forehead.

***

When Castiel appears back at the warehouse, supporting a groggy Dean Winchester, Sam is leaning against a table with his arms crossed, facing the tattooed man. The man is currently trussed up and tied to a chair, his head lolling at an awkward angle. Sam doesn't take his eyes off him.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Dean demands, inconspicuously taking his weight off of Castiel's shoulders.

"I have no idea," says Sam, "He attacked me, tried to activate a blood sigil." In response to Dean's worried look, Sam shrugs. "It didn't work," he says, "The outer circle was broken."

"Well, that was lucky," says Dean, sounding suspicious. "Anyway, we've got bad news. Cas?" He looks around, only to realize that Castiel is already gone. "Damn it."

Devil in the Gateway. Scare Factor: 4.

1. This dream continued on from a previous one that I don't properly recall. I think I was Dean. Sam and I fought Masters, the tattooed man in the warehouse, but it slowed us down considerably. Sam still stayed behind to do the ritual, but it completely screwed things up for us. When I replayed the dream, I kept Masters from attacking Dean, and sabotaged the ritual at the same time. I think.

2. A good portion of this dream was in the third person. My character wasn't spying so much as I was watching cutscenes.

3. Supernatural 4x20 "The Rapture", which aired over a year ago. We meet Castiel's human host, Jimmy Novak, and his family. Claire, the daughter, is briefly possessed as well.

4. Actually happened in the TV series. Same episode.

5. This was Lilith's motivation in Mike Carey's Lucifer comic series.

6. I can't believe I remembered that. According to this dream, Castiel let me beat him in our last fight. I resent the implication.

In other complaints, why is teleporting so easy during non-lucids?

Also, I haven't been online much for the past couple of weeks. Summertime! I'll do my best to get caught up with everyone's DJ entries.

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?

In which insane and bloody doctors offer to change my appearance.

I'm picking up floor joists by myself and placing them in a third layer over the existing ones.

"What are you doing?" asks my dad.

I set down the thirty-foot piece of wood and gesture like it should be obvious.

"We already did that," says Dad, "We don't need any more."

I look down, and realize that he's right. Oh.

---

I'm driving around Quickton, driving around all the cars that are parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. Did I mention that DCs aren't allowed to drive anymore?

---



I'm wandering around Ixburg. It's night, and my surroundings feel very real. I look at my hand anyway, count my fingers. I count five, but my pinky finger is just a stub, and I know that I'm dreaming.

I go through my mental list of lucid goals, and decide that I'll try to find Hazel. Only, I know exactly how this phase of the dream usually works out, so I decide to send her a message instead.

I pull out my cell phone and send a text, asking where she is. I immediately get a reply. I put the phone to my ear and hear a female voice telling me that she's at the zoo. I tell her to stay there; I'll try to come find her.

"I'm lucid, I'm lucid." I mutter to myself, going over to the church doors that I'm standing near. I pull them open, thinking, Lions and tigers and bears...

I see a faint blue light, but when I step inside, I'm still in Ixburg. I sigh. Obviously I'm going to have to work on that "power of belief" thing. Whatever, the door thing has never worked for me.

I'm standing by a mirror and idly playing with my appearance, going for "more masculine" and "more feminine", back and forth, changing faces at random. My skin is starting to feel stretched too tight, though, and I step back from the mirror.

A scalpel slices across my cheek, drawing blood. The girl holding it dances back, twirling happily around the room. I watch, unconcerned, as she and another, identical, girl come up to me and place their arms over my shoulders.

I don't remember exactly what they say, but the consensus is that my shapeshifting abilities leave something to be desired. Amused, I allow myself to be led over to the bed and handcuffed to the headboard. The twins step back and make a grand gesture toward the door.

An older woman appears, seemingly armed to the teeth with surgical tools. "I can help you gain any appearance you wish," she says.

"What," I say, taunting, "No anesthesia?"

"It's a dream. You don't need it."

I pause for a second, and seriously consider the offer. "Nah," I say, freeing myself from the handcuffs with a thought. "I got this."

The woman shrugs and disappears.

I stand up and walk over to the closets that are in the room, looking for a grey suit. I don't know why I'm looking for a grey suit, I just feel like wearing one. I try to make one appear in the one of the two closets, but fine-tuned dream control isn't my forte. I'm better at the "mass slaughter" kind of thing.

The twins continue to try to be helpful, but I ignore them.

I go over to the wall and stretch out a hand. I'm trying to dissolve the dream, reach through the Void, and pull up a new location. I see spots where my hands are, and I think it's working. I reach forward - my hand bumps off of a very real, very solid feeling wall. I try again. It's not working.

I wake up.

Like a Surgeon. Scare Factor: 2.

I work on my lucid goals and try to ignore my interfering parents.

I'm wandering through a house, and I stop at a piano. There's sheet music open, and it looks interesting, so I sit down and start to play it. I play the song through entirely, and listen to the notes hum and fade away as the song ends. Then I start from the beginning, trying to memorize it.

Still in the house, which I think might belong to a relative. My dad stops me and asks for my help with something, but something feels off. I realize that I'm dreaming and take in my surroundings, surprised by how stable the dream is, and how real everything looks. My dad still wants help, but I tell him that I can't get caught up in the dream-plot.

It was hard to tell, I say to my mom, that this was a dream. Our surroundings have been very stable, and the only part of the house that's changed has been the twin beds that appeared in the living room.

I try to remember my dream goals. Right, I wanted to open a portal. I stretch out my hand and will a circle to form, growing outward from the spot where my hand is. I start to see blue rings form, but the dream fades.

I see title credits. That's it: a black background with words on it. I don't even have a body, though I'm still lucid. My entire awareness is focused within this little black box I've made for myself.

Frustrated, I post the journal entry on the forums, in my old DJ thread. The Cusp (who I don't think I've ever interacted with) makes a few suffestions. He says that if portals don't work for me, I shouldn't force it, and should try another method.

Scare Factor: 2.

I'm river rafting with a group on the backs of whales/fish/squid/leeches. The creatures swim down the river with one side of their bodies facing up, which turns from pink to silver in the sunlight. They turn over after a while, so we have to stay on top of them.

My creature is about to turn over, so I jump onto the shore and let it. I throw one smaller creature back into the river where it got caught somewhere. I watch a kid's creature turn over and throw him into the water. He comes up on the other side, laughing.

I'm back in the water, swimming on my own. I'm wearing running shoes, which really limits my swimming ability. We'll be hiking later though, so I can't go barefoot.

An enemy is on the shore, aiming something at our group. I'm swimming through fairly deep water, but I jump up and land a flying kick on the henchmen, knocking the gadget aside. There's another one farther into the forest, and I rush at him -

shift

I'm driving through one of the main intersections in Quickton. The stoplights facing me are blinking orange, the adjacent stoplights are blinking red. I drive through the intersection, thinking about the DC I'm trying to help / is helping me.

I'm biking down one of the pathways near my house. I wonder how I'm going to meet up with her again. On impulse, I pull out a blaster and shoot two Star Wars-esque red laser blasts into the sky. I consider that we should have used that as a signal. I shoot a couple more just to see what the range of visibility is.

The signal starts coming up elsewhere in the city. Sirens go off. Uh oh. I stow my blaster under my jacket (it's too long to sling across my back; the barrel pokes up under my collar) and quickly pedal home. I do have to wonder how video game characters manage this.

I end up in an oh so messed up version of my backyard. I'm setting my bike against a fence and am about to haul it over into my half of the back yard (it's a duplex), when, for no apparent reason, I realize that I'm dreaming.

I don't see a reason not to leave the bike where it is. I decide to play along with the dream and get rid of the gun, so I walk into the garden shed and hold the blaster up along the wooden wall. The wall folds out and clamps onto the gun, and when it folds back you wouldn't even know that we were stockpiling an armory. Then I stare at the inside of the shed for a moment, marvelling at the detail and how real this all seems. I can feel my body, the scratch of the jean jacket I'm wearing, my feet on the ground.

I shake myself out of it. I had plans for a lucid, right? I was going to... meet Walms. Right. Now, how am I supposed to get there?

Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I extend my right hand, intent on peeling through the layers of the dream. Something goes wrong; I can't feel them.

"What are you doing?"

There's a guy my age standing on the lawn in the back yard. Short blond-ish hair. Let's call him Derek (I haven't used that name yet, have I?). He doesn't look much different than I do in dreams. Similar clothing, too.

"You know what?" He says, when I don't answer, "I don't care. See ya."

Derek jumps through a hole in the lawn. It's shimmery, like a puddle, but it doesn't reflect the blue sky above. It reflects a different sky with a setting or rising sun, shot through with pink.

I jump through the puddle.

I hit sand on the other side, startling Derek. "Um, hi." I say.

"I wasn't expecting you to follow me," he admits.

"Yeah, well..." I look around, taking in the view. We're standing on a beach, looking out over a sunset. "Huh. I think I have a [desktop wallpaper] like this."



We spot another puddle in the sand. "You coming?" he asks me.

I nod.

We jump. The other side is more blue-tinged. It's still sandy, but everything is underwater.

"So, you've gotta be looking for something, right?"

I try to answer, but the words come out garbled.

Derek rolls his eyes. "You know this is a dream, right? You wouldn't have been able to follow me otherwise. You can still talk."

I take a breath, feel cool air enter my lungs. Breathe out, breathe in. I try again. "I'm looking for a guy who calls himself 'Walms'".

Derek looks at me, incredulous. "You don't even know where you're meeting him? Jesus. I could take you to a place, but I don't think I can help you find someone you don't even know."

False awakening. I feel the dream fall apart around me, and become aware of my body lying on the bed. There is bright white light everywhere, and I can still feel the remnants of the previous dream around me.

I fade back into the dream. I'm back in the dream-warped backyard, sitting on the lawn. Derek is standing beside me. I swear, if he rolls his eyes any more, they'll stick like that. I go over where I left my bike and lift it over the fence. Derek says something.

[I]Puddles. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: Okay, Mr. Negativity.

Two characters are around my old apartment in Ixburg. They look like Johnny Depp and Robert Downey Jr.. I play with story lines and wonder what's about to happen. Then I'm running over rooftops and away from Sweeney Todd.

I'm on the roof and he's on the ground. I double back quickly, jumping down and landing a flying kick to his head. Then I turn around and keep running.

I'm in a playground, on top of one of the structures. There's a man with me. He has the head of an eagle, and wings. He tells me that something is out of alignment within me, that my back hurts because of it. I see tattoos dancing across skin as he presses into the pressure points on my back. I see his wings spread out above, and ask if I can touch them. He tells me not to.

I decide I liked the old tower better, even if it was less accessible. I crawl in through the window and realize that someone is lying on the floor. I ask him if he has a pulse. He says that he doesn't.

I fall into an ocean of black water. I swim to the surface, take a breath. I'm treading water for only a moment before I'm pulled under again. Everything is fuzzy, but I keep breathing, and I realize that I'm dreaming. I swim to the bottom, covered in dark grey silt, and maybe a shipwreck or two. I concentrate on dissolving the dream or opening a portal or maybe both

I'm balanced precariously on the dark surface, which is riddled with craters. Briefly, I believe that I've made it to the moon, but I see the crescent moon on the horizon. I think that I'm on an asteroid between the Earth and the moon. I walk over the crest of the asteroid (10m in diametre), and look out at the moon. I'm perched at the top of a crater. I'm pressed against the ceiling, and everything is going dark.

I'm in Ixburg. My parent's house is next to my oma's house as part of a duplex. The door is unlocked. I talk to my oma and am invited in. We make room for the group of Katimavik kids that are in town.

Outside fighting against some kind of non-human enemy. My character isn't supposed to have superpowers, but I do anyway. I see myself flying from a third person POV.

Demon Barbers, Malfunctioning Portals. Scare Factor: 3.

Non-lucidSemi-LucidLucid

I concocted a plan to confront LG, utilizing the golden bullets he left me. This is the plan:

Originally Posted by Sam's Paper Journal

Note: this is not a dream.

I'm standing by the Bar in McAnally's, the pub in Dresdenverse Chicago. The building is established neutral ground, and the place is specifically designed to break up magical energies. Its design is broken up into odd nooks and crannies perfect for a dream walk.

I order two beer from Mac and take them, handing Mac a twenty with my right hand as I hold the other two in my left. I thank him and make my way to a nearby table. I set down the beers.

I reach into the right pocket of my jeans, where I put the golden bullets LG had threatened me with. I place them on the table in front of me and look up at the ceiling while sipping on my beer. It tastes like I imagine butterbeer would: rich and sweet. Inexplicable.

"You really expect me to drink this?"

I open my eyes to find the Lunar God eying me skeptically. I relax and take another sip.

"I would have ordered a bottle of Pinot Gris again, but I'm really not in the mood for champagne."

The Lunar God leans forward over the table. "Sam." He says, "No games. What do you want?"

I'm wary of him. "I want to know who you are."

He leans back in his chair, satisfied. I watch the smirk form on his face and settle in for a round of bargaining. I don't forget that those little golden bullets on the table have been used to try to claim my life.

This is the result:

I'm with the Joker in an armoured truck in a scene eerily reminiscent of Fight Club. Now, what could that mean?


You're just a freak, like me!

I'm following two characters and a potential horror movie from a third person point of view. At one point, I accidentally possess one of the characters and take some time off from the plot to... dye my hair. So yeah.

Same location. I'm waiting for my karate class to start. I check my watch, and it's 6:90PM. I guess I'm late. No, wait, this is a dream sign. I look around, confused, because this doesn't really feel like a dream. I pay more attention to my surroundings, and realize that it actually is a dream. I stop to savour the amazing feeling of being lucid.

"I'm dreaming," I say, and I start to repeat it to myself as I move around the dream-world. I'm not feeling very well, so I go to grab something from the fridge (in a place I've never been). I'm craving rasberries. When I open the fridge door, I find clear Yop yogurt containers filled with frozen rasberries. I eat a few.

I'm moving toward the exit when Ben stops me and wants me to listen to a song. It's rap music. I'm not interested, and there was something I wanted to do tonight, so I'm busy. A brief wrestling match with my brother ensues, but I shake him off and run to the exit. A steel staircase leads to a latched window.

I will the window to be open. I crawl out and latch it behind me.

I remember that I wanted to go to McAnally's to meet with the Lunar God character. I stretch a hand out in front of me and will the dream to dissolve. I close my eyes briefly, but when I open them, the green grass and concrete and sun are still there. Energy continues to swirl around me. I close my eyes again, and push through the dream-fabric.

When I open my eyes again, I can't see anything. Everything is dark, though coloured energy swirls through the space to break up the monotony. There seems to be a slight tear in the dream, so I move toward it (zooming closer, not walking). I drop to my knees and feel for the wooden door that I'm sure should be there. I imagine the texture, feel for iron handles of the closed door. I visualize the grain of the wood that should be there, the glass that is set into it.

"Open the door," says Mac, rolling his eyes. "We keep them open while we're open."

I stand up and dust myself off, looking at the four pointed star mounted on the door, just above my eye level. Did I create that?


The dream star was more ornate.

I shake off the strange feeling and move to the bar beside the door. This isn't anything like I'd imagined the place to be. The wood is darker, glossier, and everything is more streamlined than I'd expected.

"Two beer." I say to Mac. I dig through my pockets for the twenty that should be there, but I only find a bunch of change in my right pocket, where the bullets should be. Loonies, toonies, quarters. I apologize for paying in change, and I give him the $20 pile of change, minus the six loonies I need for LG. I consider that since we're in Chicago, I should have given him American money. I let my hand hover over the pile of change, and will it into American bills. The money flickers and I see paper. I'm not sure if it worked.

Mac waves me off, and I grab the beer and my loonies, setting them both down on a round wooden table near the bar.

"Aw, you don't need to do that," says a voice, "You already paid for drinks."

"These aren't coins," I say, turning to look at what I think is the Lunar God. He's younger than any incarnation I've seen before. He grins in understanding and takes a seat.

I take a sip of the beer. It tastes like Pilsner.

There's a third person at the table, whom I never acknowledge. Her (?) presence seems shadowy, dark, barely there. I think it's Elaine.

A girl comes up to LG and asks if it's okay if she leaves with someone.

"Yes." says one of us, before LG can comment. We kind of need to talk to him.

Unfortunately, LG's very presence seems to destabilize all dreams, and I can't remember a damn thing after that. Including whether I still have the bullets.

Failed Interrogations. Scare Factor: 3. Reaction: I need a new plan.[/QUOTE]

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.

Go to the moon was kind of my madness mantra last night. Attempted to remember that I wanted to do this.



I'm in the basement of a building my grandparents used to own. In the dream, it had been extensively remodeled since then. I try to apply the actual blueprints to the dreamscape, but it's too confusing. I hear newborn kittens. I see a few heads of bread-mice scattered around. The mice here are made of bread. I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide that this is all his fault somehow.

Shift.

I'm in a love story, switching between two of the three main characters' points of view. I leave down the stream with the guy who's not me? This is confusing.

Shift.

I'm in a forest, hearing a Voice that gives me instructions. I'm happily running through, surrounded by green, green grass and trees, when I come to a stream. I jump straight over it, but land awkwardly on the other side, not having gone as far as I thought I would.

Water saps your power away, The Voice explains, That makes rivers difficult to cross.

I'm frustrated, because dreams should be doing whatever I tell them to, but the dream-logic makes sense for now. I consider another, wider, river nearby.

I'm near where the forest was, but now I'm surrounded by stone: banisters and stairways and what could make for some very fun parkour sequences. I glide up onto the banister, ready to jump, when I suddenly realize that because this is a dream, I really can go anywhere.

Go to the moon.

Oh, yeah, I was gonna try to do that tonight. I hop off the banister, landing easily on the stone floor. I hold a hand out as I had visualized, feeling through the dream-fabric. I feel and hear a buzzing, and watch in amazement as the dream within stone building abruptly disintegrates, leaving only the night sky. I look down, fully aware that I made it and I'm on the moon and -

Too much surprise.

I'm lying face down on the bed, just like when I last went to sleep. Everything is dark and I keep my eyes shut, trying for another shot at the dream. I feel plastic beneath my hands*, but I aim to kneel down and feel the moon rocks that must be at my feet.

Shift.

"How the hell are we going to stop that thing?"

"I'll take care of it."

"How?"

"I'll take care of it."

I'm using a fellow officer as bait, but I don't have any strong feelings on the matter. The monster is approaching from down the hallway, turning a corner toward me. It spots me, and I retreat into the room, leaving the door open behind me. I'm standing just around a corner, out of sight from the door. The monster steps into the room, and spots the injured officer lying on the bed. I remind myself that this is a dream and I will be able to do this.

The monster rounds the corner, snarling, and I grab it by the scruff of the neck and somewhere along the back (it might have been wearing clothes) and I throw it - hard - toward the window. It goes flying as if it weighed a pound, crashing either through the mirrored door of the closet and the wall behind it. It didn't land as if it weighed a pound.

I'm outside, on the red, ceramic tile rooftops, no longer worried about the monster. I consider taking another shot at getting to the moon. I hold up another hand, trying to feel the dream fabric. I little bit of deep blue bleeds through where my hand is. I put up the other hand, trying to force myself through. It doesn't work. New method.

I'm standing at the edge of a rooftop, unable to see into the abyss that lies before me. I jump, only concerned that this might make me wake up. I land. Without looking, I can tell I'm still in the same dream-scape, so I jump again.

This time I fall and fall and fall, visualizing the black tower that Nomad described. I land, easily, and I can tell that I am, in fact, on the top of a black tower. When I open my eyes, though, I consider that this might not have been the one I was looking for. This one is only three or four stories high, and it's surrounded by brick buildings on all sides. A watchtower. I sigh.

I hop down onto the dirt and paving stones, and look around at the DCs in the area. There's a cute blonde with long, wavy hair, chatting with some friends at the edge of the courtyard. I consider that I might be half in the moon-dream somehow and these might be real people, but I dismiss the thought as unlikely and walk toward the girls.

I step through her friends, smiling at the blonde girl and holding out a hand. She takes it, and I spin her around and kiss her. Oddly, I have the sudden ability to smell and taste (morning breath) and I quickly block it out. And suddenly I'm playing a game of the Sims, and there are a bunch of options on the screen. Now I'm talking to family members on the other side of the courtyard and looking for the girl so I can actually talk to her?

Voices Trying to Limit Your Dream-Control. Scare Factor: 2. Though the bread-mice were somehow creepy.

*So very much a false awakening.