Amurehna

Non-Lucid
Actual Waking
False Awakening
Lucid
The dream setting is uninteresting, I'm facing the wall and I see the edge of the pillow and the face of the mattress. There's a vague sense of unreality that makes me think I'm dreaming, to test it I press my hand flat against the mattress and push. My palm breaks the surface like it is a pool of water and I reach down past the mattress into a strange place that is infinitely black.
Something drives me to a lighter sleep, it feels like waking but isn't. My boyfriend comes into the room and lays behind me, it makes me uncomfortable but I can't tell him to stop. He says something about going to the store and gets up. I can hear his keys jangling.
I descend once more, for a moment I'm confused about whether or not I'm awake. I press my hand down into the mattress, past it into the dark. My knuckles brush against a metal bar, then I feel a hand grip mine. At first I am startled and frightened, and I rip my hand free. The force of my extraction jars me almost unto waking.
I have some awareness that I'm not yet awake, I see the same view of my wall, the edge of the pillow and the face of the mattress. My mind sinks a fraction and I thrust my hand into the mattress. I immediately feel a small hand (about the size of my own) grip mine. It slips away so I reach further, this time with both arms clear up to my shoulders. My left cheek and ear descend as well, once my ear clears the mattress I can hear a woman screaming. Sometimes wordlessly, other times for help. I can't speak but I try to pacify her, all the same. This works for about two seconds. I have one of her wrists, I can make the shape of her arm. There is a very dim source of light nearby. I catch a glimpse of her face...and then she recognizes me.
"YOU!" She yells, it's accusatory and terrified, threaded with uncertainty for my motive. She wrenches herself from my grasp and, heart hammering, I retreat. I can't give up though. What kind of person would I be if I just left her there, all alone in the dark?
So, once more, I reach down. My knuckles brush the metal bar then her wrist. Her wild struggling and screams echo hollowly in the cavernous maw. I rear back, pulling her out through the mattress and collapsing backward, pulling with all my strength.
Honestly I was expecting to find Saja but she...is entirely different, if familiar. She is tiny, like Saja. Bird-boned with a pointed chin and high cheeks under ice blue eyes. She has light red-brown hair to her shoulders. I notice that she is naked, but while obviously feminine, her body could have belonged to a mannequin for all the details I didn't assign her form, and for all the notice I take of said nakedness. She's trying to catch her breath, laying there gasping. She seems...disgusted with me, but I don't know why. I glance away and then back at her, and she's suddenly gone.
Then I realize she's fused into my back, and her arms are hanging under mine. EEEEEEEEEE....WHYYYY?
I decide it's time to leave!
I take off down the hallway and out into the yard. (I used a door!) I reach up to grab the top of the brick privacy wall and climb up. While I'm doing it I wonder why I didn't use the gate, and decide that it's easier to stay lucid if I do things a different way. I get distracted by my (the woman's) extra arms flailing around....

There's a moment of vertigo and I wake briefly, this time for real, though I'm confused because my view is...the wall, the edge of my pillow and the face of the mattress.

When I fall back asleep, I am still in my room, the woman lays nearby. I remember my initial purpose when laying down for a nap. I wanted to get answers out of Liam, I wanted to try to find him to ask about the whole wanting me to die thing. So I repeat his name in my mind, a low mantra, and extend my right arm down into the darkness. I don't feel hands this time, much to my disappointment, but a scene lays itself out for me. It's a warehouse with two large, dim, circular light fixtures. They reveal a pool table and a vaguely familiar man with chin length dirty-blond hair. He wears a loose white shirt and one of the harnesses from Maze Runner. I see their story clearly, that I was once friends with them. The man I see is a serial killer ((*annoyed sigh*)), who at this point is wearing a very convincing person suit. The woman believes they are good friends, but this is before he betrays her and confines her forever to the Dark. He turns his eyes very slowly up to meet mine, jarring me to a lighter level of sleep. You know, this isn't the only time I've gone looking for Liam and found a serial killer instead. What exactly are you trying to say, subconscious?

Once more I find myself in my room, laying in bed. The woman is not here anymore, as far as I can tell she is no longer fused to my back. I rush down the hallway, out the front door and into the patio. I use the gate this time, because it's standing open, to get out to the driveway. The wind blows my hair across my eyes, annoying me, but I'm worried if I try to brush it back, the motion will wake me up. So I turn my face against the wind and let the next gust do it for me. The dream starts to break apart and I stop walking, hoping it will stabilize. That only makes it worse.
Keep moving,my subconscious whispers, it'll force your brain to keep creating images., I take my own advice and continue to the end of the driveway. I feel flush with pleasure when everything settles back into place. I want to see how far I can get and how different this is from reality, before I wake up. I get to the end of the cul-de-sac and there's an unsightly gap between the houses, the lawn there is all churned mud, and beyond that the landscape drops down. I can see a great city reaching out across the horizon, as far as I can see. But before that is a messy highway. Hmm.
I trip in the mud.
My leg jerks violently, interrupting the dream. I wake briefly.
Oops.
When I slip back under, I run outside and this time decide to go left. The street is much more interesting in this direction. I actually think I've visited this in a lucid before. The wind presses my glasses to my face...wait, I haven't worn glasses in years. It feels like when I use to fall asleep with them on. But I'm dreaming, I don't need glasses. I try not to think about it too hard, because that's what usually trips up my lucid commands. I instead blink slowly, and think about not needing them and POOF. They're gone. I grin, taking in the wide street, lined with trees. The next cross street is also wide, but there are white and red bricks in 3 ft walls at the edge of the sidewalk. I see a man riding either a golf-cart or a bicycle, it's hard to tell. He's an older gentleman, wearing mostly white, with a white beret and a plaid undershirt. He uh...notices that I'm lucid and grins. He then makes a show of reaching into his pocket and pulling out a coin. He throws it at me and I raise my hand to catch it (even though he's pretty far away) but the wind makes it go wild. I see it whip past and I see it, willing it into my hand. I feel the sharp slap of the coin against my palm and hold it up in triumph. He throws his head back and laughs, then gives me a thumbs up and a finger-gun, buddy-Christ-style.
The interaction makes me feel light, happy, and unspeakably amused.
I turn to continue exploring the street, but only make it a few more yards before waking.

I am some incarnation of Abigail Hobbs.
Though I am not an only child like in the series. I am the youngest of three sisters and we always reincarnate together.
My oldest sister Colleen looks like Alexis Bledel.
Our middle sister is named Ingrid and has our eyes and skin color, but she has red-blond hair and is usually plump where we are waifish.
We are with Hannibal, and believe that he's helping us find the man who killed out father. Though it was never said, I had an understanding of the story, knowing that he had killed our father, or had manipulated another serial killer into doing it for him.
We are in a barren box car, on a train. It's night and we have all settled down to sleep at one end of the car. The floor is dark weathered wood, which creaks under my feet and feels worn thin. I am the last to lay down. Hannibal is in the right hand corner, under a small sliding window. My eldest sister is in the middle, having left a space for me between her and Hannibal, and our middle sister is in the left corner. We have dully colored blankets in off-white, dusty pink, blue, and light grey with a large plaid pattern. My sisters are already sleep, I can tell Hannibal is still awake. We've rarely been alone together, we still aren't, but this is pretty close. Sigh, what is it with me and serial killers?
He asks me if I'm having trouble sleeping. I say something about it being cold and the movement of the car being unpleasant, presumably because it keeps moving us (slowly) against the wall.
He lifts the blanket and says there's enough to share, and he always runs hot.
I notice he isn't wearing a shirt.
You know where this is going.
I avert my eyes shyly and sidle close to him. At first our shoulders are even and it seems awkward so I scoot down a little, resting my head on his chest. Which felt real, by the way. He asks me what I'm doing, amused by my naivety. I lean back to explain, since I would never presume that he wanted to sleep with me, and he kisses me firmly on the mouth. I can't tell if we're naked, but we must have been because, you know. Sex. It was quickfire and intense. I tried not to embarrass myself by moaning too loudly since my sisters were sleeping nearby.
We move to the middle of the car where there is a simple wooden chair, in the middle of this migration I glance down at my eldest sister and realize that she is awake and seething with ill-concealed rage, glaring at me through her hair.
This strikes me as immensely funny and I can't help it, I start to giggle. Hannibal has no idea why I'm laughing my ass off since, you know. Sex. I try to apologize because I think I've offended him. Sadly, he now knows that Colleen is awake and halts our...activity.
"Right here, Abby? Really?" Colleen hisses at me. "You know how Ingrid feels about him."
Sure I did. Hannibal knows too. Colleen was the most level headed of the three of us, she never really trusted Hannibal. Ingrid was less subtle with her attraction to him. I understand that everything he did tonight was part of his plan to satisfy his curiosity about how we would react. The train's speed has picked up in the last few moments, signaling us that something is wrong.
"How could you let this happen?" Colleen snaps at Hannibal. He makes some excuse about one thing leading to another once we were laying down together.
He hasn't once made a facial expression. Even when we were otherwise occupied he was impassive as stone. He doesn't care about any of us, he just wants to see what will happen.
He moves around the front end of the car, that is now at the front of the train rather than the middle. The far wall is taken up by control panels.
"It seems the conductor has abandoned us." Hannibal says.
As he says this, he's pulling wires from the console and rigging it to explode. My sisters exchange horrified looks, Colleen is sitting on the chair in the middle of the car and Ingrid is sitting on the floor beside her. Hannibal escapes out the window and leaves us to our fate.

I see the train from the exterior, how there's a thick, solid pole at the end of the tracks, and now there is no one to redirect us. I pace the wall of the car like a caged animal, unsure what to do. We can't really jump, we'll die. Immediately before impact I throw the sliding door open and leap out.

There's a lapse. I am not Abby any longer, it's not clear who I am. I am in the Between, the place souls travel through to reach the afterlife. I am following a familiar man through a grocery store to where the employee lockers stand.
Another lapse.
We are in the locker room. The familiar man, I'll call him Bill, is sitting on the floor. Another man clutches me to his chest, I am in a very awkward position that would seem sexual were my hands not bound and between my legs. I can hear his labored breaths as he squeezes me tightly. Squeeze.Inhale.Release.Exhale. Again and again. It hurts and I can't breathe, but I'm relieved when I realize I'm not being raped. From where I am being held I see a third man at the end of the row of lockers. Something strikes the back of his head and drags him backward. Horrifying sucking noises emit from beyond my field of vision. After a few minutes a naked woman with blood on her mouth emerges from the row, followed by a man in a suit and glasses who holds a white handkerchief to his bleeding neck.
My aggressor drops me.
We all walk into a waiting room lined with chairs. Bill takes a chair by the door and I crouch on the floor beside him. I examine the side of his face. He looks so ordinary, how did he come to be in purgatory? Maybe he's a serial killer and the blandness is a mask. I know everyone here is a serial killer and the next level down is Hell.
The naked vampire woman stalks to the middle of the room. Her skin and hair are white, her eyes are like muddy blood, no sclera at all. Her mouth is dark with blood and quirks upward on one side with a humorless smirk. There are arcane symbols and spells, a crescent moon on her abdomen and lines of script wrapping around her thighs.
"Who put you here?" She asks Bill.
"Hannibal..." he starts to explain, but she scoffs.
"HANNIBAL!" Apparently they were all put here by Hannibal. "Don't worry, soon he'll get his."

There's a lapse. I am once more with my sisters, walking through the lighter side of the Between but we aren't heading to the afterlife, we are being prepared to reincarnate. It turns out that we didn't at all survive, our traumatized minds tricked us into believing we had.
I see Colleen in a classroom, she is among the students, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The instructor is a bizarre creature and I have no idea how to describe it...because it honestly looked like a person sized magenta crayon dipped in chocolate. Or a traffic cone. It was terrifying. I see the scene lapsed over a period of time. Each time it flashes, there are fewer students. Finally, Colleen is alone and levitating.
It is suggested that this time we will return remembering all that came before.

The next scene felt sharp, somehow. I am somewhere in Massachusetts, in this life our mother is still around. She stands outside the upstairs bathroom, that sits next to Ingrid's room. Ingrid is telling me about a boy who asked her to prom, and how she wanted to be honest with him and worried that he wouldn't want to go with her after she told him the truth. She's asking for my advice but I haven't really listened to the story, my entire focus is on her lovely face. How I missed my dear sister. In this life her hair is red-blond and falls in corkscrew curls at her shoulders.
She smiles a little, "Hey, are you okay?"
It takes me a moment to find my voice. "Yes, it's just..." She looks at me expectantly. "You're just so beautiful." I lean forward and kiss her on the cheek.
She's pleased by the compliment, if a little confused, and kisses my cheek. "Thanks, I guess. You're beautiful, too."

Dream, Non-Dream

This one really interested me. You see, I have a significant abdominal scar that I've had all my life, due to surgery when I was an infant. While I hardly notice it anymore, a small part of me has always wondered what it's like to be...unmarred.

I don't remember the beginning. The dream picks up in the middle, I'm standing in a small room. It's little more than a closet and they have brought me to Consider. I have applied to undergo a surgery that will result in a kind of decorative scarring. They show me the results, and the process. There's a woman who is famously beautiful because of her scars, she looks like Scarlett Johannson (Of course. Scar. haha subconscious, very funny.) as Black Widow. Short red hair. Tattoos on either shoulder.
She is hanging on the wall, this is supposed to be a kind of deterrent, and I understand why. I regard her, curiously. All of her scars are bloody wounds, all ripped open. There was a whirl of ragged flesh around her left eye, and intricate patterns down her neck, chest and arms. She looks miserable.
I feel inferior when I stare at her, a lesser being because I am unmarred. I think about how beautiful I'll be with scars.
I wonder if I could endure the pain it takes to create them. There is another woman nearby, also Considering. None of us think she'd be strong enough to survive, and seeing Widow's fresh wounds makes her turn tail and run. Seems she didn't have the stomach for it.
Later I see Widow healed, she is telling me to reconsider the undergoing the procedure, that beauty isn't worth the cost. I want to ask her if they restitched the wounds so that the scar lines would be more fine but I don't because I feel it would be rude.

Constantine

Yep, I was rewatching one of the episodes before bed. This one was really confusing and full of symbolism I don't even remember now. Going into my bathroom in the duplex and hearing a song, and then singing it, and being able to see out onto the patio from the bathroom. The lights weren't working. Then I was pushing my desk chair back into my room from the hallway. When I opened the door, my hands were no longer on the back of the chair but on a man's shoulders. It was demon-Constantine. I was telling him about the music I'd heard and the lights not working. I'm trying not to be disturbed by his appearance, his skin is grey and his clothes are soaking wet. I know I need to move him, but I don't remember why.
"What were you singing?"
"It was just a song..." I reply.
"It wasn't just a tune, love. You know that."
The lights flash on and off, bright like lightning. He turns his head to look at me. "Are you going to finish it, then?"
"If I can."
"Good. At least one of us will be out of this mess."

Dreamviews Pub

After whatever the hell that last thing was, I sank deeper into sleep, thinking about the dream I'd just had and how I would type it up. I found myself in the Dreamviews Pub. The walls were paneled in rich dark wood, there were booths lining the walls, and round tables out in front of the bar where I stood. There was a young woman with curly blond hair to my immediate left. CanisLucidus walked up and ordered a drink. He may have ordered one for me too because suddenly there was a large glass full of alcohol in front of me. I tried to tell him about the dream I just had, but as he got his drink he went to stand on the other side of the girl. He apologized, saying he was doing some sort of survey and though he was listening, it would be a minute before I had his full attention. The girl seemed flattered that he was standing next to her and thought he was there to flirt.
Meanwhile, he randomly asked me questions that were on the survey, like "Are you more likely to exert yourself physically or spiritually at the end of a long day?" Meanwhile, the girl kept interrupting and became increasingly rude about us talking.
He asked me if I wanted to sit, and I'm awkward so I start to decline until he makes it clear he's getting a stool for himself too, then he retrieved two chrome bar stools from somewhere. He sat down and pushed one over toward me, before I even had my hands on the damn thing she freaks out.
"What are you doing? She didn't come in with us." The woman snaps. I start to extract myself from the conversation, it's not that important...
Canis held up his hand to stop me, with a slow blink, he smiled a little and turned his focus to the woman. He said cheerfully "If you don't like it, you should sit somewhere else."
The woman scowls and stalks off to a different table. While she was still in earshot, he said the most fantastically perfect insult and, of course, I don't remember the wording. Something like "What a shame, ruining a pretty package with that awful face."

The dream recycled and I was still trying to tell him about the two dreams I'd just had. o.O

Injured Dog, Desperate Factions

Sadly this is all fuzzy now, it was so vivid at the time. There were two factions, they were not equal. One was considered lesser. They had raised a boy of the Higher faction, and hoped that he would be the one to change things, he could prove that their faction was not lesser at all. Then we see him with a woman of the Higher faction and she's twisting his point of view to match her own. It turns dangerous because the boy is ambitious and reckless. He thinks we of the Lesser have lied to him all these years and hates us for it. A fight breaks out and we end up on the run.
We had a large dog, seriously...it was the size of a bear. I am running with one of the others down a hallway and I see him laying on his side in a breezeway. I see two others of my faction with him, but they had to leave. I settled down next to him, aside from his size he had the coat of a boxer, brown with white markings. His eyes are rolled back into his head, and his breath is labored. I make sure he has food and water nearby and lay down by his side. I wonder if he still knows me, or if he'll get confused and attack. I'm worried he's going to die while I'm asleep.

I feel like a lot of time has passed. I am the boy now who was raised by the Lesser Faction and defected to follow the woman. We're in a mansion, the girl I betrayed (me!) is nearby and her group is closing in on us. It's important that they don't find us before we get what we came here for. The Woman has left me instructions and a grappling hook that I can use to climb into the higher reaches of the mansion. The walls are all white plaster, high ceilings and great expanses of windows looking out into the soft blue night. I follow the Woman's path down a short hallway and into an area with...pillars that start out short and increase in height, leading to the upper level. They aren't steps, they're too far apart for that. I guess it's time to use the hook. I pause for a moment. I feel lonely. I don't like where this path has taken me. I know now that the Woman only pretended to love me, that she used me to further her agenda against the Lesser Faction.
I hear movement and know they are close. I sight up my arm and concentrate to release the grapple. (Yay for lucid impulses that don't work!), I try again. Nope. I cut through the narrow area between the pillars before I come to one that's about 7 feet tall. Surely I can get on top of it...

With a little effort I lift myself up onto the pillar and hide in the shadow of a taller one. The girl I betrayed (ME!) doesn't see me. Somehow I know that the dog has died because that thing was always at her heels, and that he isn't now means he must be dead. That makes me sad, too.
I continue to the Woman. She has greying blond, chin-length hair, she's thin like a scarecrow, wearing a flowing pale blue dress. She's standing at a table, mixing a potion. It's supposed to be a seeking potion to help us find what we came here for.
I know I shouldn't, but I lean forward and try to kiss her on the cheek. She pretends that she wasn't expecting it and that some slight movement to retrieve another ingredient made her turn away. She chides me, saying it isn't the time...but I already know it never will be. What did I give up for this cold, snake of a woman?

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It's difficult to describe the setting. It felt deep, vivid, almost reality-sharp without any lucidity.

It's night, I'm outside a familiar house in the country. There are two important people meeting here, one is considered a villain while the other is a hero. The villain looks familiar but I can't place him, and the 'hero' is actually just an ally of the true hero, she looks like Paige from Scorpion. They agreed to meet here on neutral ground to discuss terms, at least that's what it seemed. Really, they were drawn here despite their different motives, the man already knows why but he needs her to understand that their meeting is destiny and for that to strike home for her, they need to meet without any sort of threat. So far he's been a rumor to her.
They approach each other in the dark, the grass crunching under foot. When they get close, sound waves being to resonate around them, for her it's yellow, for him it's green.
"I knew we would resonate." He says, offering her his hand.
"Why is this happening?" She sounds awed instead of afraid and reaches out to touch her fingers to his and the waves and circles become a single pulse of light at the contact.
I don't find out the rest of the story.

There's a lapse.
I'm at work, the racking is painted beige instead of grey and the aisles are much wider and taller. I am in front of the Millwork desk, it's very early in the morning and the lights are still low. I see Wayne, a co-worker, who was stuck working a night shift and I start to tell him it must be nice that his shift will end soon when mine is just beginning.
"Well it would, if my shift had ended." He says.
"What do you mean?"
Then I see all the people, other associates, all carrying boxes on their shoulders or pushing flat carts piled high. My heart sinks and I wonder when if I should help sort the freight or just wait until my shifts starts to throw it all. I turn to tell him how sorry I am that he has to stay but he's gone. I move down a few aisles and see a squat and wide ladder piled high with two stacks of boxes, the outer pile leans dangerously, balanced by a beam on the other side of the aisle. I know it's the quickest way to get it off the floor but it doesn't look particularly safe.

There's a lapse. I see the front of the Millwork desk but...the row of aisles are no longer store interior but a line of store fronts on a downtown street at night with soft yellow streetlights. There was more before this, something about a group of women who were considered witches, one of them climbed to the top of the scaffolding where workers hung a giant red-lettered neon sign from cables and poles. She jumped and hurt herself seriously, I'm talking to one of the witches about it. I'm worried, but she won't tell me if the woman died or not. I climb up to the top of the scaffolding though the sign is in ruin on the sidewalk below. I stumble and make it look like I'm jumping down, following the other woman's steps. I land badly and my socked feet do not do well on the crushed glass. The city feels restless, chaotic in a sleepy way, like people are just learning that maybe right now would be the time to panic. The lights flicker, die, and then return. The witch starts to leave without me, I limp after her. We feel a low, ominous rumble. The witch whips around to exchange a concerned look with me as a chunk of yellow rock falls from the tunnel wall ahead of us and shatters to bits. Is it to be an earthquake? Or a flood? I suppose we'll find out.
I follow the woman into a trench outside the city walls, and from here I can see everything. There's a long bridge? Or a monorail overhead. It's dark so it's hard to tell. To my left is the dark ocean, there's a thin line of shop fronts and sidewalks, the back end of the street I started on.

We hear screams ring out in the night and cries cut short, we hear people yell about the water rising. A flood, then. The witch bolts ahead of me and I limp down the trench, so intent on escape. I don't know if I'll be able to run. Someone stumbles past me and I ask them what's happening.
"It's the ocean..."
"What about it? How high are the flood waters?"
"It's freezing!" She yells, and runs away. Then I see what she means firsthand. Torrents of water rush haltingly toward me. It fills the trench behind me and seconds after filling, it freezes solid. It laps the earth, layering it slowly at first and then larger rushes of water follow also freezing solid immediately. I try to stay ahead of it, I don't quite remember if I did...I'm worried my foot will get caught that I won't be nimble enough....

The tower walls had a hollow metal ring to them, and stretched to unknown heights and depths. There were concrete platforms jutting from walls out of the void at irregular intervals. I flee from platform to platform, unsure where I'm going. I figure the only way out is up. I come to a swaying dark gray pillar, it looks to be climbable, but when I launch myself at it, I scrabble helplessly at the sides which are soft. I realize then that the pillar is all mattresses. The platform I'm on is also mattresses and jumping off has knocked many off the top. So if I don't climb the taller pillar then I will fall. I start to panic, seeming to hang in mid air. Then a hand seizes my wrist. It is a hand I know as well as my own.
Liam.
He doesn't so much pull me up, as make sure I have a hand hold before releasing me and moving away. I clamber over the edge. There's a set of pillows under a two foot high window that runs the width of the bed. I get a good look at my rescuer.
This is the weirdest thing ever, okay. This has never happened to me before and I don't fully understand why it happened at all.
My savior is a woman. She feels like Liam, though, and has all his physical markers. The angular features, red hair, blue eyes (though faded and icy). She is not quite his height or breadth. My heart catches in my throat. I can't believe he's here. I am not in awe, because he is a veiled avatar, but neither can I speak freely. I edge closer to...her. Fascinated.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, voice a whisper.
She flicks her eyes in my direction then averts her gaze, callous. “Did I say you could touch me?” I realize then how close I've gotten. The words seem more like “Who said you had the right to do this?”. I hastily retreat and sit back on my heels.
She won't look at me, suddenly intent on the dirt under her fingernails. From this angle she is male, clearly Liam. Hard-faced and bitter. Each word is distasteful, quick, bitten off. “It's...clear you aren't coming home. I know that now. I know you can't.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, he doesn't answer it directly. "How do you know?"
“Sometimes I wish you had just died with the others we helped.”
This one sentence changes what I know of our story. In my version I assumed that we ventured into the Between as incorporeal beings, broke the Serpent into pieces and then killed ourselves or each other to absorb the pieces and carry them here within us to this aether-dead world. In this story, Saja and the others left their bodies behind, having sent their souls onward through the veil.
He makes it sound like those who stayed behind, people outside the groups Wolf created, helped with the killing. I see him from the point of view of a young man, Liam's dressed in a loose white shirt, eyes flashing, mouth twisting with disgust for the task as he raises his arms overhead. His hands are quick, stabbing a thin straight blade down into the man's chest.
The image is lightning-quick and stuns me. I know then that having anyone on the outside of our group helping was a mistake. They were killed in the Between like Saja and the others, but their cords snapped almost immediately, ensuring that those sacrificed that way died within weeks.
“You...helped them?”
Still he doesn't look at me. “But you didn't. You won't. You...persist. Living endlessly despite the lack of sustenance. So I'll never be able to let you go.”
He's the woman again. I touch his knee, unsure if I can comfort him. Or even if I should try. I want to ask him if he still loves me, but you don't tell someone you love that you wish they were dead.
Then it became horrifying. I was trying to dig for information while I had him in front of me, despite what he had just said. We were running out of time. There's a flash, I'm distracted, and when I turn back she is laying back on the pillows as though dead. She becomes younger before my eyes, becoming a tiny infant, and when her age stops decreasing, the crown of her head shrinks from a grapefruit to the size of a golf ball. Then the top erupts liquid all over the pillow. Sick, I stare down at her. What now?



I tossed recklessly, before falling back to sleep. I am at work, but the layout of the building is kind of crazy. One end of the vast building is a restaurant on a beach, with an open patio overlooking the water. All the trim is bright white.

I only remember a few parts. Someone sends me to the middle of the store from Flooring to tell a man that we aren't sure about the price on a rug. As I'm running it occurs to me that I should have scanned the tag before listening to the associate who sent me. He's sitting at a table at the center of the store. This area is like a dining area, enclosed, with doors on each wall leading through narrow halls that go to every department.
“We couldn't find the price for it, I'm sorry. It isn't usually priced by the square foot....” My voice comes out with a Hispanic accent, even though I have no accent in life. His mouth quirks up in an unkind way. I narrow my eyes at him, suddenly feeling sassy.
“Of course you couldn't, look again?”
“I could go back and scan the tag...”
“Are you sure you can read it? Do you even speak English?”
I concentrate for a moment and my voice comes out normal, unaccented and cold. “I assure you that I do. Maybe if you weren't such an asshole, we'd be more willing to help you.”
He got up and left.

There's a blond man and a little Indian guy at the table. There's a phone booth on one side of the table and we hear a girl I work with telling a friend about a guy she met in California. She's bragging about how smart and successful he his. The two men think she's lying and start mocking her. I'm extremely offended and with a surge of protectiveness I tell them to shut their stupid faces, that it isn't fair for them to treat her this way just because they think she's a whore.

There was another instance with the two men but I don't remember it very well. I felt like they were mocking me.

A man tells me to check out the new attraction, because he's the leader of a Freak Show. There's a wide stable, the floors covered in straw. There are horses of many colors, they're all beautiful. I see the one he's talking about though. It is a large dray mare, a coat color they call 'fleabitten'. She's large and beautiful...until she turns to to the side and I see an extra horse head protruding from each flank. And then from the shoulders are two human arms above the horse legs. I'm fascinated and a little disgusted. Especially when I realize the horse is male...? Ish? And that it wants a hug. It speaks to me with a sudden human head and grabs me, making me really uncomfortable....

I honestly don't remember, but I felt truly rested when I woke. It felt fantastic, I'd been having nightmares, fragments and broken sleep for months it seems. I slept so deeply that I was confused by the annoying sound coming from underneath my pillow, and when I realized it was my alarm I couldn't remember why I had set it.

I might have dreamed about being off of work, or not having to go in. I think it had something to do with Constantine, but I was just editing my previous entry so I can't be sure if I really had another Constantine dream or what.

Oh, night before last I had trouble falling asleep but I was working up to a lucid dream. Something about leaving work, the building didn't have a roof and the aisles were like walls in a maze, I was running toward the service road and the vestiges of non-lucid limb heaviness were falling away---
...then my boyfriend came into the room and woke me up. I couldn't get back to sleep for an hour after that =/

My subconscious rarely tells me happy love stories. It was interesting though, and there were also moments where we heard each others thoughts.

My character was not defined, I wasn't precisely myself, but I wasn't a character from the show. My love interest was actor Matt Ryan wearing the guise of John Constantine from the TV series. He wore his trademark white button-up, loosened tie and black slacks. I feel like there was more before this point and I just don't remember. Anyway. Constantine is lying supine on a flat elevated surface, in a barren living room with one large window and dull beige carpet. There are two other people in the house, a man and a woman. We are holed up here while we wait for some threat to descend, they hate John and me by association. The man comes into the room and hovers over John who is clearly unconscious.
At first he only mutters insults under his breath but soon this abuse escalates to pinches and prods. I rush to his aid, yelling at the man to stop, hastily dropping to my knees beside Constantine's head as he stirs restlessly. He raises his head and shoulders wrongly convincing me that he's conscious. I cradle his head to my folded knees with one hand and grab the man's wrist with the other to stop him, but he proves too strong and wrests himself from my grip. He lands several blows to John's rib cage, growling at him.
John's eyes snap open, fogged with confusion and enraged by the intrusion. In a moment of fast building tension, the man's aggression begins to peak, incensed by Constantine's own irritation. I know that if he lashes out he'll just regret it. I try turning his attention to me by speaking his name. He doesn't notice and just smacks weakly at his assailant telling him to bugger off. Jesus, he has the accent and everything. It's confusing, John recoils under a rain of shallow strikes, but once John is lucid, it's his acidic remarks that turn the man on his heels.
"Hey, I'm sorry okay?" The apology turns his focus to me. "I tried to stop him, but he was too strong." I need him to know I wasn't just standing by while someone hurt him. My hair falls in a dark curtain past my shoulder as I lean over him, my palm to his cheek, fingers along his jaw. His expression is unusually...soft, unguarded, like he's not sure he's awake. It startles me because I'm not used to seeing him without his sardonic armor. I realize he has said something to me and I was too busy staring at him to hear it. "What?"
Why are you looking at me like that? he thinks, saying "Is everything alright?"
I notice also that one of his eyes is half green and half brown, split vertically. It's extraordinary. "Yes." I say, thinking I've never noticed your eye before...I brush my thumb across his cheekbone, he closes his eyes all the tension easing from his face. I know he would like me to believe that this attraction is one sided so I withdraw my hand and eventually he sits up and I leave him.

The second part has a little WoW mixed in. There's a complex building, a dark warren of rooms and narrow halls. A young woman in our group was turned by a supposed ally and brought here by a cultist, to cast a spell that would serve the Rising Darkness. I slip into the hallway from the courtyard. The door at the other end stands open and I see one black-robed cultist raising her arms and chanting. In the first room to my left is an Ogre boss that I know I'll have to kill before going into the final room. I turn to fight. It shakes its weapon overhead, enraged at the sight of me. I seriously miscalculated, it wasn't alone and I died horribly, so I had to run back to my corpse like in the game. By the time I returned it was all over.
The house suddenly feels busy, Constantine comes into the Ogre room through a broken window, followed by Chaz and several others. The daylight shines white behind him, outlining his frame in a glowing aura. His face is what strikes me though, his features are grimly worried and exhausted, with a thin sheen of sweat. His dark eyes glitter in the half light, and I hear his thought clearly. You're better off without me, love.
But I'm not. I think.
This has never happened to me before, it is not a sensation I'm familiar with even when awake so this was also particularly striking. An ache settled into my chest and arms with the absence of him. Never have I been so consumed with the need to embrace a person and I couldn't decide what was worse: the haunted way he was looking at me, or the negative space between us.
I close the span between us and and whisper a word past the sudden knot in my throat, unable to articulate my feelings. It was unthinkable to leave him standing there alone, to leave this aching unattended. When did this longing become such a deep, unspoken part of our interactions? When did it become this?
I knew then that he would have left without telling me and had instead came here to my rescue. I had, after all, charged off on my own. Our arms went fluidly around each other, two halves suddenly made whole. The malaise vanished. I could feel where his wrists crossed between my shoulder blades, unyielding as stone, he was solid. Real. I was short, like my waking self, so the top of my head only reached his shoulder. His shirt felt coarse against my cheek and ear where they pressed hard against his chest, I could feel the fine tremor that shook throughout his entirety. Because this hurt too, in a different way. I feel one of his hands move up and the pull of my hair on my scalp as his hand clenched into a fist in it before settling on the back of my neck. No, I wasn't better off at all.

There's a lapse and I'm most definitely myself, in my kitchen, talking to my dad on the phone. This was a couple days after my first student showcase where I've been learning guitar, and I didn't invite my dad because he can be overly critical. He has heard about the showcase and called to ask why he didn't know about it until after. He has somehow seen a recording of it and starts in on my performance. I get really angry and start yelling at him, saying "THIS IS WHY YOU WEREN'T INVITED." I drop the phone, and people in the other room can hear my argument. Constantine thinks I've hung up and mentions loudly to someone nearby that he can't believe someone would treat their daughter this way and calls my dad an asshole. Because I'm actually still on the phone, I start talking loudly hoping my dad didn't hear any of that....and then I woke up.

Apparently I like anti-heroes. *eye-roll*

Post-edit 12/22/2014: Okay, so on the 12th I watched the most recent episode of Constantine. I borrowed a few elements, but I hadn't watched it closely because I was getting ready for work and I only just now really sat down to watch it.

Spoiler for Vague Constantine Spoilers (Because I'm too lazy to go into exact detail):

So the interesting bit here isn't what I borrowed from what I watched before the dream, it's in what I didn't know I was borrowing until just now.
Very loosely: A character is kidnapped, it sounds like it's by a cult.
They introduce the Big Bad for the season, a group of warlocks everyone thought has been extinct for eons.
A woman they thought was their friend betrayed John.
How I touched John's face in the dream mirror's John's action toward a woman near the end of the episode.
I saw Chaz climbing in through the broken window holding the same knife as at the end of the episode.

Certain lyrics from The Honey Trees songs, Golden Crown and Siren.

The setting was damned confusing. It constantly shifted from one type to another. I saw some familiar DCs, but they also melded with other DCs to create new personalities. Anyway. Sometimes this place looked like a house, sometimes it was a beach, sometimes it was a warehouse or school hallway.
I begin at the middle of a scene. I'm watching Wolf on the beach, he looks like a pirate captain. He knows he has very little time to complete his task, there's a boat close to shore with ghosts on it. He leaps from the beach to the boat, to disperse the ghosts with a kind of purple fire wrapped around his body, but he isn't quick enough and they escape. By escape, I mean disappear, because his window to 'disperse' them has closed. The deck's brittle surface collapses under his weight and I am suddenly him. I'm plunged underwater, fighting my way back to the shore. The water is thick, filled with sand. There's a man, Rook, trying to guide me back to the surface. I can hear him telling me I have to swim 'up' but I keep going at an angle, before I feel his hands under my arms, pulling me out.
I separate from Wolf as Rook rolls him onto his back. The fire courses over his skin before flickering out. There's a thin wooden frame around his chest and abdomen.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked, crawling to his side.
"He's fighting it. I'm trying to help, but it's really up to him." Rook says. He has a hand on Wolf's chest, who looks distinctly unwell.
I rest my hand on Wolf's side but he tenses and his skin breaks out in gooseflesh.
"No, not you. It's better if you don't." Rook says, as I withdraw my hand. I already knew I couldn't help.

There's a lapse. The beach has become a sort of dining hall with a concrete floor. It feels like an old house. The walls are white and worn thin, there's a double french door leading out. It all becomes confusing here. Toward the back of the hall there are what looks like an aisle from work at times, and at others it looks like lockers in a school. This is all jumbled now.

I see a young woman with incredibly long, wavy, dirty blond hair, she's kneeling on the floor with her hands lifted in supplication. She's wearing a jean dress with a pink sweater underneath.

I see another young woman, a version of the girl with long dirty blond hair. I mean that this is her current incarnation, where the other girl was her past life. She rises from the floor a different person, and goes to a three tiered rack at the end of the 'aisle' on the far side of the dining hall. She arranges identical 1 foot lengths of copper wire on the shelves, preparing them for the ritual.

The room is dark. Rook stands in front of the woman. I know my purpose is to keep him distracted while she weaves the copper into his hair and prepares him for the Dance he will take with her...they are meant for each other. He looks like Cisco from The Flash. He is wearing a dangerous expression. I draw his attention to me, inserting my arm between them and gripping his shoulder. I pull him around so his back is to her. I just want to keep her safe, and she knows this, but his focus is turned to me and we dance. It's a tense, hard-handed dance. His grip on my hip and hand hurt, and I know that mine on his shoulder isn't pleasant. I see the girl over his shoulder, still twisting copper into his dark hair and the flashes of jealousy in her eyes. I feel like I've done her a disservice by interrupting, but I can't stop now.

There's a lapse. I wake on the floor. It is daylight. Rook is gone and so is the girl. I know her name now, it's Kate. I wander down the hallway now filled with lockers, calling her name. There's a threatening presence behind me. I find her inside one of the lockers, she's been turned into a vampire. She won't talk to me, and won't accept my apology.

There's a hierarchy within the building. Those that remember more of their past lives are part of the inner circle and have more power. The pinnacle of the hierarchy is a woman who claims to remember all her past lives. She has at her disposal three brothers, I witness a conversation where she berates them. She tells them that they mean nothing, and never have. Their mother in a past live gave this woman her three sons to pay off a debt, consigning them to her meant that they would never remember who they were before. It seems cruel.

I find Kate by the door that goes out. She is hanging a sign by the door, it looks old. It has an Italian last name on it...Fantinelli or Ferrantelli, the faded white paint is cracked and mossy. The border is intricately carved vines, the middle is wooden.
"This is beautiful." I say, touching the face of the sign.
"Yes, I found it for him...but he went Out last night and I'm afraid he won't come back." she pauses, "It was from one of his other lives. I thought it would help him remember."
"Don't worry. He'll come back..."

Fragment 12/07/2014
Disturbing fragments arranged like a tv show trailer. I see flashes of Will Graham from Hannibal, all the other characters are trying to figure out what happened to Will and where he went. He apparently went mad and began his own killing spree, and he was even more terrifying than Hannibal. The end of the trailer said: Now they'll see first hand what's become of Will.

Fragment 12/08/2014
My best friend who is a bisexual woman is in bed with me, she tells me it was a lie that she wasn't even a little attracted to me. It startles me, because I'm straight and don't know what to do with that information. She then turned into a man.
o.O

I left work early because I was sick, so of course I came home, opened my window (it's a nice day...) and took a nap. I shift restlessly, occasionally jerking awake, worried that at any second the wind is going to finally knock the curtain from my window.
During this nap I had one of those weird lucids. I saw my room but it was different in a few ways, the electrical box on the wall was missing, and in its place was a hole. I focused on it and tried to will it to change "I think I see light on the inside." I said to myself, focusing harder. "I do, there's light." But there wasn't. I gave up, considering my intention had been to turn the hole into a tunnel, by which I would leave the room. Instead, I turned my focus to the window. *eye roll* You know, because I can't use a door. That's just crazy. I flop over, but my body still feels heavy with sleep. I claw my way up to the sill and manage to look outside.
"Come on, you're going to have to do better than this or the dream will fall apart." I thought, trying to will the heaviness from my limbs. Nope. Still not working.
Then, of course, the wind knocked the tension rod out of my window and across my legs, shattering my delicate lucidity, the room suddenly awash with sunlight. Damn it.

I don't recall much now. I remember traveling in a van with my boyfriend and a few other people, it was outfitted for the impending apocalypse. We stopped at a gas station and we met with some people who were also in a survival group. One of them was a country man, tall with reddish hair under a dirty cowboy hat, a red plaid shirt and grimy jeans. I went into a different room of the gas station, a living area. I'd been trying to get the man's attention. At the beginning of the dream he seemed like another person from far away. Strong. Charismatic. He's seated at a small round table, I approach him. His accent is distinctly unappealing, it makes him sound uneducated. And his teeth are all fucked up. The teeth are jagged, uneven and brown. I'm pretty sure he was chewing tobacco, too.
He propositions me. For just a moment I start to go along with it, he gives me a smug look and comes over to me. I'd been getting in his personal space all day, like I'd been asking for it.
I wonder what the hell I'm doing, since my boyfriend is in the other room sleeping. We haven't had sex in a long time though and the lack has left me wound tight.

I decide I'm being a moron and tell the man it's a bad idea to do this. He molds his body against my back. I'm short, so my shoulder blades are against his abdomen. For a moment I am lust-stricken. Why? Because my subconscious is jerk and any DC that even shares one feature of Liam's (in this case, the red...ish hair and his height) makes me want to jump his bones. He whispers something in my ear, asking me if I'm sure I want to walk away. I think about his gross mouth, and wonder if it would be rude to tell him not to kiss me on mine, then my restraint kicks in and I step away.
"You know where I am, if you change your mind." He says. Eeeeeeeeeee.

There was something about a person giving me a spray bottle full of liquid, but if I pulled the trigger the contents would spray out wet, but dry instantly as a thin layer of snow. I was really amused, and showed everyone I came across, "Hey guys, look at this neat thing I found!" there was also a pen that did the same thing.

Something about rushing back to the van and closing the doors, and how the back part of the van was all thick metal, like a vault, and that we had outfitted the thing to provide us with oxygen. Some calamity had deprived the world of air. Fun.

I wasn't feeling well so I took a nap. Usually when I have false awakenings, I become lucid and get annoyed by them. This time they were almost seamless but no less frustrating and very confusing. Of course they were also...leaning towards horrific, but at least it was interesting horror. Most of it anyway. The waking bits will be in this color.

I shift restlessly in bed, my head hurts and I'm just warm enough to feel cozy. I sit up, startled by a noise, and toss the blankets aside. My dog has decided to poop on the bed. It keeps getting lost in the blankets at the foot of the bed before falling to the floor.
From where I'm laying I can see the computer screen clearly. Frustratingly my queue into WoW still reads 5055 in queue with a wait time of 641 minutes.
The screen blurs and I refocus my eyes, the message now says I've been disconnected. I hear my boyfriend talking to me from the other room and I express my dismay at being disconnected and punted to the tail end of a ridiculous queue.
I focus again and it becomes the queue screen once more.
I get out of bed, and my room is suddenly without furniture and the bed stripped bare. When I turn to look at it from the door, the mattress is laying at an angle having been tossed off the boxspring. I look down at my left hand and realize there is blue glitter all over three of my fingers. I wonder where the hell it came from and when I look around the room in confusion, I see that there is blue glitter everywhere. I stomp out of the room and into the kitchen. My boyfriend is standing in the laundry room. He asks what the hell is on my hand, and I ask him why there's glitter covering my room. He insists there isn't any glitter in my room. I pivot on my heel...shifting in bed, uncomfortable. My head pounding... I crawl out of bed at the behest of my boyfriend who is calling me into the other room. I pass by the mirror on my wall and it's like I'm looking at my sleeping body, my eyes flutter, I can barely keep them open. I make my way, slowly, into the other room. On my knees. I stand behind his computer chair. He keeps talking about how much fun he's having playing the expansion, I'm irritated because I can't even log in. He eventually asks what's wrong with me, I say that I think I'm still asleep. The world tilts and I'm laying in bed. I get up and go into the kitchen, thinking I'll make a cup of coffee. All the lights are off. Nothing feels right. Then the section of counter behind the coffee machine splits, peeling away from the wall. A sudden gout of water sprays from misplaced plumbing and I scowl, realizing I'm still dreaming. Dream logic interferes and I throw my coffee cup onto the ground, shattering it. My boyfriend enters the kitchen, asking what's going on then immediately ignores me in favor of making a milkshake...he opens the freezer, and sets the blender inside. He thinks better of that for a moment, and sets it inside the refrigerator part, and sets a command for the refrigerator to make a lot of ice for the shake. Then it's back in the freezer, full of ice cream and ice, and blending.
"You know what would taste awesome in there?" I ask, reaching into the freezer to grab a container of ice cream I bought in WL a week ago. The lid falls of and apparently the contents have melted because it all just spills out while I'm trying to retrieve it for him. I step back, confused. I'm still dreaming. I know it. The evidence is clear now, my dog doesn't look like my dog, the laundry room is now a dining room with a long table piled high with junk and small animals, one of which is a white chihuahua with red hearts dyed on its coat.
....I'm suddenly laying in bed after a moment of vertigo. I'm sleepily clutching the blender bowl in one hand and fishing around inside for ice chips, which I eat. I'm half asleep, I feel so lazy and gross. I drift further into sleep.
....I'm laying on the edge of the bed. M is a girl from work. In WL I'm incredibly straight, as far as I know she is too, but that for some reason doesn't always transfer to my dreams. Especially this fuckin' weird thing that just happened in my subconscious. Anyway. She is suddenly there and naked, telling me to scooch over so she can lay beside me. I'm at least still wearing my clothes. I turn on my side and she spoons behind me. She runs one hand down the front of my body, complimenting my figure. Then she slides her other arm under my body, and I don't even know what the hell she did here. It was like she strung a cloth rope around my upper body, between my shoulderblades...like a cinch? And then she quite suddenly wrenched it tight with an utterance of extremely mean words, causing me bend backward like a bow with sudden agony. I cry out and writhe, begging her to stop, wondering if I'm saying any of this out loud and if my boyfriend is going to come into the room to find me acting all crazy.
There's a fragment about watching a horrifying cartoon. It is vaguely reminiscent of Spongebob, but there's a talking snail and another creature I can't remember. They are underwater, staring out into a seaweed field. Something terrible is happening, but they don't fully comprehend the ramifications until the snail says, "I'm bleeding from my pores!" and immediately I see red welling up through his skin and his cartoony expression of horror.
I am once more, in bed. My boyfriend comments on the random dog feces at the bed's foot. I may also have stepped in it.
I am laying on some sort of chair dressed only in my undergarments, there's some sort of tray or table over my abdomen, like a dentist's chair. My boyfriend is hovering over me. I can't recall why. I look down at my right leg and see a livid vein from my knee to almost my pelvis. I comment aloud that it doesn't look normal. My skin starts to...ripple and bubble and then I am shaking, then convulsing. I gasp that something is wrong. For a moment I think my boyfriend is going to call an ambulance for help...instead he just forces me to the hard surface of the chair, restraining me while I thrash.

This part actually has a story. I see a young woman with dark hair in a hallway, she's carrying two bowls of food. One for herself, and one for her roommate. Before they bunked together, they hadn't known each other, but they were both from the same country and had similar interests, and were both foreigners here. She knocks on the door, seeing a weight set in the corner. Her roommate is supposed to be a workout junkie, but this set is pristine, appearing completely unused. It feels like this is supposed to mean something, but I can't figure out what. Roomie opens the door and I find her, predictably, with a local boy. This feels like an introduction to a horror movie, the turning point where the viewer can tell that the story will twist into something terrible. For a moment I see the room over her shoulder, then I am her again.

Everything is dark, I have lost my chance to change my path. I have made too many mistakes and I have somehow resurrected without my memories. I have one last option. A last resort. I am newly made into the dark haired girl, having died and been sent here to another layer of existence. Without my memories, there's no point. In one violent, desperate motion, I kill myself. I see her from the outside, her/my spirit standing over the corpse, taking the head between her/my hands. The scalp opens revealing the brain. She lowers her mouth to a metallic, rectangular slot. I am horrified for her, but it is the only way and there is so little time. She speaks the name of her previous incarnation and fixes the ghost of that person into her mind. "Mina." She says, then draws a breath, closing her mouth over the slot...sucking.

There's a lapse. I am a new incarnation and I am Elsewhere, in a room full of tall patina-covered copper statues. It is a temple. There's a man speaking, the statues come to life and all head in opposite directions, taking different exits. I know I am supposed to choose one who will lead me through this...nameless Elsewhere. One of them is a particularly roguish man. I follow him outside, rushing to catch up. He flashes a self-assured smirk as he rounds the corner. I call for him to wait up.
"How could I possibly have predicted that you would choose me. Again." He says.
"No one knows the Elsewhere like you do." Flattery will get me into his good graces, I know. He does too.
"That is so very true. Come along."
The outside of the temple is bright and airy, the pathway is zigzaggy without any sort of walls or railings, and we are very high up so it would be very easy to fall off. A confused spirit confronts us, demanding for us to answer a question. I don't recall what she says to me, only that she is unsettling and she is only really intent on waylaying me, my guide is not so affected by spirits and has no concern for my well-being. I know how I'm supposed to deal with her, and I can't let her touch me or I'll be sent back to the beginning of the maze, and all the guides will be gone.

Moron Dog 11/05/2014
Before I went to bed, my dog had eaten a small styrofoam cup full of various candies. At least 3 bite-sized snickers and a couple of Hershey pieces. I was worried, but my boyfriend stayed up with him since I had to get up early. Apparently he only got really hyper. That worry found its way into my dream where I saw my dog who raided the refrigerator when we left the door open and turned away for a moment. He insisted on eating a tomato and would not release it when I tried to wrench it from his mouth, he just kept stubbornly chewing while I yelled "NOOOOO, DON'T EAT THAT."


Gypsy Symbol 11/06/2014
These are hard for me to describe, the telling of them will be short even though they felt complicated. The scenery had weight, depth. I met a man who had two children, this was well after the End of Things, maybe a follow up to the storm nightmare I just had? They called their appearance an anomaly, even a deformity, but to me they seemed beautiful. The three of them were black, but they had...metallic gold spots, like a leopard's. It almost looked like paint. They even had some on their eyes.
The man was in his late thirties, his boy was fifteen, and the girl...18 months? She was young enough to spend most of her time in a carrier. I see them in a house, though it is day, the days are mostly dark now. They had found some other people and weren't yet sure if the group could be trusted. The man instructs his son to keep an eye on his sister, always.
I remember him turning away from a piano to the open door where his son stands, and seeing the empty carrier on the front landing and snapping, "Where's your sister?"
They spent some time thinking that she had been abducted, her appearance was just as unusual as their own. She wasn't actually missing.

House
I have leased a house with my sister and we have already put money down. Until now we hadn't been able to closely examine it. We walk into the tiny, U-shaped kitchen. The cabinets are dirty white and of an extremely antiquated style. There were two white ranges, one at the back of the U, and one on the left side. We were dismayed to note that two cabinets were so mold ridden to rot, almost falling from the wall. The range on the left was on an odd little 2 inch tall platform, and when I insisted that we could improve the layout of the kitchen by moving it, we found that we would have to sit a cabinet on top of the platform and that the run would be ugly and uneven. I remember opening one of the rotten cabinets and comment that they couldn't get away with renting it to us in this condition and wonder aloud if they will buy cabinets to replace these. At once point I looked at the kitchen and saw only obstacles, the ranges pulled out, twice as many cabinets, and all stacked where the open space in the center should be. I said something about how I couldn't believe anyone would build a kitchen like it.
When we open the rotten cabinets again my sister and I find two....creatures. Honestly it looks like a writhing, levitating, dark stocking full of black flies, with puffy growths on either side. My sister says that they are definitely *insert word I can't remember*, because she's seen them before, this is the stage right before they hatch and swarm everything. Yaaaaaaaaay. I decide I can't deal with it and, hearing her promise to take care of them for me, I leave the house. That is entirely backwards, by the way, I was always the one to kill bugs for her.
The exterior of the house consists of thick, uneven, cream colored blocks. The lawn is astroturf green. It feels as though I am inside and out, that the sky is painted on the ceiling of a building. There are many people outside with me, and someone comments on the symbol carved into a top block of the house. It has been painted over, but was so deeply carved into the stone that it is still visible...if vague. I recognize it as a gypsy symbol, and we talk about how it is not the only gypsy marked building, a remnant from when they conquered the area. The symbol is an upside-down triangle with an upward, right-slanting slash that reaches past the border of the pyramid then has arms, like a crude arrow or an antenna. ((I know that there are such a thing as hobo or gypsy symbols, but I could not find one that matched it, and it has been years since I researched such things so I have no idea where this came from.))
I then witness a scene unfolding in symbols on a sandstone tablet. I know it is a folktale, about a man who travels through the desert and has to choose which he values more: the camel on which he rides, or the water strapped to his back.
At some point my sister runs past me and jokingly tries to hand me one of the dead creature husks from the cabinets. I flip out once I realize what she's offering to me. "Nope. NO. Nuh-uh."

My Friend's Stepfather 11/10/2014
It seems my subconscious cannot offer me anything nice, without at least a little unpleasantness. The next two dreams have that in common.
I don't remember much. It was sort of like I was talking to someone online and also in person, there was a detached manner to our conversation. Like it was text instead of speech. I am sitting on a bench, next to a handsome man in a suit, on a transport of some kind. It looked like a house, with one open wall, and nothing inside. In all honesty, he looks like Scott's dad from Teen Wolf. Except his eyes were light brown, instead of dark brown. He wasn't as broad-shouldered, either. He is a doctor of some renown, rich (of course), a world traveler (of course). We chat about me, mostly. He asks my name (very strangely, I reply with my real name, this has only happened a handful of times in my entire life). He asks where I am from, and I say I am living in Oklahoma. He says he lived at a Fort(something or other...I can't remember the name). I smile, delighted that he knows of my home. He is flattering me, I know. He mentions that he was only stationed there a few months, passing through on his way to Africa. The transport stops, and we hop off. We go to a truck where my co-worker M is sitting in the back. It turns out the man is her step-father. (In WL she just has her biological father, her parents are still together)...anyway. He climbs into the back of the truck and asks me if I have ever been to Paris. I say no, but mention my time in Italy with my father.
"I know, M told me about it."
I scold her for sharing information with him. Not because I really cared, but now it was one less thing we could have a conversation about. I was worried that he would realize I wasn't interesting and stop talking to me.

My Friend's Husband 10/11/2014
*sighs* I hate my subconscious.
It is morning, all the lights are off in the house. There is a man. I resist calling him handsome. He is attractive in a rugged way, he is incredibly manly. He looks like Hawley from Sleepy Hollow, except he is taller, broader of shoulder and face, skin more ruddy, hair more wavy. He, predictably, is Liam's height. That makes him about 6'4". I am myself, so I am 4'11". As you can imagine, he towers over me. Predictably, this makes him incredibly alluring.
It is very quiet in the house, we are sitting on a dark blue sofa. He suggests that I should join him, in bed, if I am so inclined. It is then...of course, that I remember he is my friend's husband ((Also not even close to the truth, her fiance is nothing like this man in any way)). I have a terrible moment of doubt about our moral compasses. He says it wouldn't matter to her, they are married but have not been a couple for many years. They are rarely in the same room together, they don't even sleep in the same bed, and they don't talk so much as argue.
There is a fragment his son (not with her). He seems sweet. For a moment I trick myself into believing that I could take care of a child, if I really wanted. That maybe, just now and just for him, it would be fine. I struggle to recall that I don't want children and why.
My friend returns and sits between us. They don't seem to hate each other, but they don't love one another either. She reminds us that the gathering will start soon, and to be ready. As soon as there are other people around, it's like he has forgotten I exist. I wonder if I was over dramatizing our interactions, if he was attracted to me at all, and then I feel like a terrible person for wanting my friend's husband to be attracted to me. I see how they are together, and all the ways they are perfect together. I remind myself it is a facade. Maybe. I wander away. He hasn't even acknowledged my existence, I decide to retreat to another part of the house with less traffic. I set my drink on a tall patio table and turn to leave. He is there, then. Very briefly touching my wrist. I look up at him. He gives me a small smile and then lets me go.


There's a handful of dumb fragments about playing World of Warcraft and a friend saying he found some people to run normal Siege of Orgrimmar. When we got there he said "I uh, have something to tell you. This isn't normal. It's heroic."
"Ben, my gear is terrible! I can't run heroic SoO."
"It'll be fiiiine. Just hang out in the back and don't stand in any puddles."
"They'll kick me out.."
"Naaaaah."

In the beginning we were in a house that seemed familiar but didn't happen to be a place I had ever visited. On the wall behind me, stretched a large picture window, almost taking up an entire wall, except for the door to its left. Someone is telling a story, and quickly the telling becomes reality. The house became ill-lit and cold. A dark brown curtain still covers the window but the window itself is broken. I took a peek outside, and see that the landscape is devoid of life, all dark grey dotted with the crumbling black husks of plants and debris. Though it is midday, the sky remains heavy and overcast, with the horizion a barely distinguishable line in the distance. I drop the curtain, reminding myself that it this is how it was before, just after the storm. Now the landscape is alive and green and the clouds blown away. I settle onto the floor next to two other women, one of them the storyteller, the other a dream relative. The three of us are wearing drab colors, all browns and grays, all of us in long skirts and sweaters and thick scarves. Of course. It's cold now. I lean back on a mound of dirt underneath the broken window, then realize there is dirt on my sweater sleeves, sit up, and brush away the rust-brown particles.

She tells us a story about a girl that I knew when I was young named Des. She was my next-door neighbor all the way through middle school. Here it becomes a little...convoluted. It's very difficult to separate the details because, as you know, events can seem to happen before, after, and also at the same time as other things.
As the storyteller speaks, I find myself once more transported to the time she speaks about, so now I am at a wide island across from the unbroken picture window. The door is cracked open.
"Des, now moved to madness by her time in the storm, darts past the open doorway, and ducks in for just a second, gasping a curse. She sounds breathless with terror. Her eyes are wide and they sweep the room, "Fuck." she says again.
I turn to find her fleeing from the doorway, I call out after her. I hope that I can bring her back to herself, that I can change the story, which dictates that though she ducked in and cursed, no one was quick enough to catch her and that some time later she was found dead at the top of a hill. I think that I have missed my opportunity...but then she comes back. I almost wish she hadn't. Her unseeing eyes dart restlessly around the room. Des does not respond to anything I say.
I get a sense of how she came to be this way. The storm bore down on the world, an endless and violent torrent, but it did this slowly. It descended from the atmosphere in great sweeping movements, taking its time to reach us, its presence moving people to madness and previously unwanted notions. "And in the end, Des fled to the hilltop to meet the storm, hand in hand with her older brother. They kissed each other goodbye and consigned themselves to the storm. I see it then, a great sphere of dark grey swirling clouds, shooting lightning at random, descending onto the hill. That was how she died, not how she became insane. I have a moment of clarity, and try to put together the prophecy into poetic verse but I can't seem to make it worth. "The end will come when these truths subside, when brother and sister together lay..." And then "The parent will be taught by the child."
I see her in the week before the sphere ravaged the landscape. She stands by the kitchen island, a steak knife in front of her. Afraid that maybe she means to take her own life, I wait until she is distracted by the front door opening to take it from the counter. Des screams in a terrifying way, eyes stretched so wide that they are mostly whites, pupils shrunk to pinpoints, her hands out in front of her in disbelief.
"I'm sorry." I say, startled by her reaction. "I'll give it back. Just tell me what you need it for."
"KNIFE." Des responds in a low, fervent voice.
"Yes, why do you need it?"
"KNIIIIFE."
Well, that didn't work. I hand the utensil back to her, she holds it in both hands and sits back on her heels, staring at the thing intensely. We don't really have time to deal with her. Now there is a moment where she is both alive, and she has already died. i think that I don't have time to deal with her craziness, and become aware of all the people in the room. They are, at first, saddened by her state of mind, and then that she has died.
There will be a procession soon. I feel out of place here. I spot a pretty woman in a wedding dress, she has pale skin, black-brown eyes and curly black hair. She has fallen down and I go to help her stand, but by the time I get there, someone is already picking her up and heading for the door, she throws her head back and laughs. I then notice how many brides there are in here, and that we are all preparing for a mass wedding procession down the main street of town. The numerous bridal parties and their guests will walk together and then the brides and grooms will be joined under a clear patch of sky. There is suddenly a weight in my chest, a vast well of sadness and bitterness and unwillingness. I am standing by the door, waiting for people to clear away from it so I can step outside. There is a man in a black pea coat, wearing thick grey mitts.
"Hey, you okay?" He asks me. We don't know each other, I appreciate his concern though...
"It's...I just noticed how many brides there are." I scan the room and find five other women. My own situation is so complicated. He presses a mitted hand to the center of my chest, just below my collar bone but above my breasts. Like with most Liam-echo encounters, I can feel the fabric of the glove, the slightly scratchy wool and the cool bite of the snow dampness on my skin. With this casual comfort he has quelled the storm in my chest, replaced with a pulsating feeling of well-being and lightness. It's beautiful. I sigh with blessed relief and raise my eyes to his face. He gives me a kind smile...there's something familiar about him. Because of his coloring I immediately want to compare him to Liam, though this man's eyes are ice green instead of blue and though he also has red hair and fair skin, his face is not nearly as angular as Liam's.
"I would be happy to walk with you." He says, assuming that I am part of the bridal party (he isn't wrong) but have no one to walk with in the procession. I can't tell him that isn't why I'm sad. It's that I'm getting married tonight, but I don't want to be, and seeing all these women so happy to be on their way to joining with their fiances is like a spike in my chest. I can feel the weight coming back...but his hand is still on my chest and it disperses the depression like mist in sunlight. I rest my hand on his chest and he smiles, turning his eyes back to the room. I worry that this has gone on too long and will become awkward, but I'm loathe to give up this new peace. So our hands remain. I notice that we are preparing for a picture. I move my hand, gripping the side of his coat and move to, maybe, rest my head against his thick coat-arm. Instead I fall through the gap between his coat and the goddamn door which is still cracked open. I nearly go head over heels, one leg kicking high as I grab his coat and the door frame, I notice that I'm wearing a long dark purple dress. I lift myself to my feet. They snap another picture.
I worry that my fiance (my WL boyfriend) will hear that I told someone I had no one to walk with. I go over what I just said in my head, trying to figure out how many people heard me, and what it could do to our impending...wedding. I decide what will be, will be.

Oh, I forgot something but I can't remember where it fits in. One point, after Des had gone mad, but before she died, we were all standing in the house and one of her brothers (in real life she only had one) who was a martial artist was posing in the middle of the room. I was impressed by his manliness....hahaha
I also want to add that today at work, when I started to feel overwhelmed, I recalled that release of pressure and my mood would temporarily stabilize. It's rare that my subconscious gives me gifts like this.

A fragment about the walls in the house being on fire, you could only see it from certain angles. Like a lick of flame on a burnt out log.

In the dream I worked in an office building, I saw people from my WL work there like Jessi, except her hair was brown instead of blond. It wasn't just an office, it was also the police department. The police and the newspaper were one entity, with different branches. I was a reporter, of sorts. The police are having a meeting in the middle of the room, huddled between two parallel rows of desks that run the length of the building. One wall consists of floor to ceiling windows. I hear them say that they are still looking for any leads on the murder. I know I need to tell them what I saw, but I keep this secret to myself, for now I am afraid. I not only witnessed the murder, but the murderer spotted me afterward. I recall crouching behind a beam on an abandoned arched bridge, and how he paused, standing up straight and meeting my eyes.

The meeting breaks up, and when the flow of people clears, I see a man sitting among the other reporters across from me. He is wearing a denim shirt, his head his shaved. He turns and his eyes, which are sharp and ice blue, find mine. I freeze. It's the murderer. He's infiltrated the police department as a reporter. He gives me a slow, crooked smile. I avert my gaze but I can still see him in my peripheral vision, and it is then that I notice that his eyes are shaped like Liam's and I can even see a short fall of amber hair. When I see him again straight on his appearance has changed, making me wonder if I really did see the killer here in the office. Now the shape of his face is different, and his eyes are brown. His head is still shaved, and he wears the same clothing, but he doesn't seem the same.

He approaches me and we sit down across from each other in a black bench restaurant booth with a black table. Jessi sits beside me. The man digs into his food ravenously, though his appearance is now unsettling. He looks almost like a drawing, for he has none of his back teeth and when he dips his head to take a bite and his eyes roll up to look at me, they are dark red-brown. I shiver. Everyone thinks he's hitting on me, and no one thinks he's a serial killer. He's being perfectly polite, though I can't figure out why, and when he gets up to leave...Jessi whispers, "He really seems to like you."
"I don't know. He makes me nervous."
She laughs a little, knowingly.
"Not the good kind of nervous. BAD nervous." You know, like he's going to murder me in my sleep. There is a distinct and disturbing duality in how I view the man. Because I know that the killer had ice blue eyes and a differently shaped face, part of me is attracted to this man who is obviously trying to flatter me. Then there is the part that insists he's dangerous, that he's playing a part and when the facade falls away we'll all be sorry that we were taken in by the mask.
I find myself walking down a wide set of stairs, Jessi is to my left, and the man is to my right. They are one step behind me. Jessi reaches over to massage my left shoulder, telling me I look tense. The man echoes her action and in it I see something of Liam, my view is from a backward angle, so I see his hand on my shoulder, it is large and fair-skinned. He presses his thumb into my shoulderblade and relieves an amazing amount of tension from my muscles.
Then he is no longer an echo of Liam, but the dangerous man who might be a killer. He has surreptitiously touched me, delicately, almost like he knows he shouldn't but can't help himself. I know he shouldn't either, so I send him a sidelong look and he withdraws his hand.

Aaaand that's all. I don't feel like proofreading this. Sorry for any mistakes.