Lyrics to Lunacy

I had a lucid last night, it might have ranked among my top ten best lucids. Enjoy. :3

I was in the 8th grade hall of my school, having a conversation with a friend about, ironically, lucid dreaming. The dismissal bell had rung; everybody, in colorful clothes, was heading downstairs via the double staircase and to the door beside of it. My friend departed, and I didn't pay attention to where he was going, but by the looks of it, he was going to fall down the stairs.

I was shortly outside, walking on the path to the bus loop that went along the mostly glass side of the school. Somewhere along the way I met another friend, distinguishable from his ethnicity and his green coat. Also, along the way, I became lucid. I continued walking, to prevent myself from getting too excited.

I marveled at how real everything was, everything was so accurate. I took this path every day for two years, and I'm still walking it this year, but I was still very impressed. Even the ditch that had been recently filled in, only this week, was accurate. The only flaws were a giant dollar weed growing next to the filled in ditch, and the lack of chalk paintings beneath my feat.



I was now on the asphalt road to the bus loop. Garbage trucks and other kinds of large trucks parked here. The light dimmed, mist seeped in around the sides of of the building and the surrounding forest. I just went along with it. My initial lucidity is usually followed by some sort of event that seemed to try to knock me back into non lucidity, usually I give in. Not this time.

"He's coming," I heard somebody whisper. Sound's just about right, it always seems to be a DC trying to confront me.

The basket ball court, a way's away, expanded to the size of a football field, and I was on top of it. The mist turned into a dark gray fog. I saw a dash at the fog's edge, chasing somebody.

It was really fast, like a ninja. According the the blur, the attacker was white with blonde hair, and he throws his arms back and leans forward at he runs.

I run around aimlessly, hoping for a sigh of the dream character. While running, I stuck a hand out and barely caught a pen, being thrown like a knife, from hitting another DC on the field. I smirked and said something incoherent, as it was hard to focus. I hadn't come derailed at all from the dream; concentration was just a little rough. I ran in pursuit of the attacker.

At some point, I stumbled, and as I caught my self from the fall, a rather late idea emerged;

I should stabilize the dream!

(Author's note: If you're one of those people who like music while reading about fights, I'd recommend this.)

"Anchor dream," I managed to blurt out. The dream immediately stabilized by at least five times. It had already been realistic; but it was like I was playing a video game, now I was actually there. I noticed after stabilized that my vision was about to black out before. I suppose I caught my fall more ways than one.

A swift force dropped me to the ground and rolled me over, and the attacker was standing on top of me, a short, pointed stick pulled back in his left hand, and a dragon shaped kazoo held less then a foot from my face in his right.

Perfect.

I moved the kazoo aside with a forearm, feeling it's jagged wooden texture, the feelings of the spikes on the dragon kazoo were that of the dull edge of a wooden cube.

The attacker, no older that thirteen, thrust his stick forward, towards my chest. As I intercepted, I noticed from the feeling of his momentum that he was only applying brute force and no technique other than a few fancy stances. Many principles of waking life combat are not present in lucid dreaming, needless to say. But I could name a few.

The dream character I was fighting was fast, but within limit. I kept his arms away from his center so he lacked protection and so he would take longer to recover. I disarmed him from his stick by drawing a circle with his wrist, and I made it burst into flames by setting my hand on fire. I reached out towards him with my flaming hand and he scampered back ten feet, and I stood up.

The dream transitioned to a bedroom, lit by a window. The ceiling was slanted, it was part of the roof. The boy who attacked me was sitting in a corner for reason, and I made him vanish on a whim. I contemplated on flying through the window, wondering if I would fit. The corners of my vision began fading quickly. My single attempt to re-stabilize the dream failed, and I blacked out into the insides of my eyelids, which I opened. I did a reality check using the digital clock on my dresser. I was awake.

But then I fell asleep again, and I can recall some dream about a squad of seven jet fighters that ended sadly with a nuke and them all being incinerated.

So that was cool.