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    The Nomad Chronicles

    Nightwalker, I

    by , 07-12-2011 at 01:11 PM (933 Views)
    Nightwalker

    I am in my apartment. I am dreaming. How did I get here. I feel a creepy presence. I turn, and I see it’s just my reflection. Just a seven foot tall lanky demon in the mirror. I scratch my chin. Oh, hey that’s me. That’s right. Nightmare time. MUHAHHAAHA!
    I summon seven mirrors. Each one has a different Self or version of me... Timelyst Knight, my Future Self Lord of Knight, the immortal android from the future, with an adamantium body, and symbiote armor. Soulkyst, my Vampire Self, with pale lavendar skin, and long white hair. 3Juargawn, my Beast Self, God of Nothing, the Jaguar-Man. Peter Pan, my Inner Child, who resides in my Inner World, NeverWonderHell. I see the other mirrors changing into different forms... Solgawn, the Minotaur from another dimension, Deathgawn, my Demon Self...

    Aha, my Angel Self! How profane! I pull my angel self out of the mirror like a suit, and become an angeldemon. I writhe in pain as my angel helmet burns into my flesh before finally fusing with my skull. I wield the Flaming Sword of Michael, and it burns itself into my hand. I scream it pain as it fuses to my hand. Feathery bat wings grow out from my back. My skin is half red, and half covered in tiny white feathers. I feel like I am going to vomit. I spin around, and the dream changes. I am in Hades. Gawn is sitting upon the throne of Hades. He is continuing a conversation, gesturing in disgust to an animal in a cage next to me. “...and furthermore, I have no energy to feed it, unless you would like it to feast upon you. So- what have we here? Nomad?”
    For some reason, I am about three feet tall. I bend over and cough.
    “Stand up, you!”
    I stand before Gawn the Dream Warrior Master, my father-in-law, and look him in the eyes, with one yellow eye, and one red.
    “Holy shit. You actually did it. You’re one crazy fucking bastard, man. I give you that. I definitely give you that. Holy fucking shit. Hey, that’s what I name your angeldevil demonangel whatever form: Holy Shit. HAHAH. FUCK YES. YOU LOOK FUCKING CRAZY. LOOK IN A MIRROR.” He summons a mirror.
    I kind of look like Two-Face, but, angel and demon.
    “What the fuck were you thinking, Nomad?”
    “We are all one, Father-In-Law.”
    “Oh, there are no laws, cut the bullshit, son. lol.”
    “So, you thought, ‘oh, hey, I am a badass. I am going to infect the Hive Mind with the Ultimate Coolness. Since we are all one, I will just prance through the Dream Plane as an angeldemon doing the work of Gawn?”
    “Something like that, Your Honor,” I cough.
    “Someone give this man a drink of water, or hm.. pomegranate juice, I heard he likes that. And don’t call me that, you little weird alien boy.”
    “I grin,” I grin.
    “And do stop narrating out loud everything you do.” DOH! “Now, walk with me through these cartoony purpley grey caverns, and we shall speak of dreams and other dimensions, but mostly... Nightwalkers.”
    “Uh... what’s a Nightwalker?”
    “You, apparently.”
    “Is that like a Nightstalker?”
    “No! Nightstalkers are ignorant demon posessed fools! Or infected children, or weak minds, poor things. Nightwalkers are a different breed. You will see.” Gawn leads me to a giant door with letters carved in the purpley grey rock: NIGHTWALKERS in yellow letters. There is a note nailed to the door which reads: If you like be one Nightwalker, take an application to the left of the signe. If not, go away. After you take the application, throw it away, because you are not fit to be a Nightwalker. Lol.
    Sincerely,
    The Nightwalkers
    P.S. I’ll haunt your fuckin dreams, bitch.

    I then realize the door is Wounded Paw, the Native American Dreamwalker I saw in my dream so long ago. “WOUNDED PAW!” I shout. He morphs into a human and grins at me. He creates a portal, and we walk through together. We walk up a flight of stairs. The stairs rumble then grow slippery, which I ignore, until they feel like living flesh beneath my feet. Gross. Eyeballs roll down next to me. Then, a river of blood, pus, and vomit. I begin to smell it. I summon a clip over my nose.
    “Okay, this doesn’t scare me, it just grosses me out.”
    “FUCK YOU! YOU ARE FUCKING CRAZY!” Wounded Paw grabs me by the throat, and shoves me into a dream where I am in an insane asylum, trapped in a straightjacket. I want to do an RC, but I can’t move my hands. Fuck. This must be real. Yeah, it looks real. How the fuck did I get here. Oh, right... dreams. I told too many people that I can do dream sharing. The government said I could either work for them, or they would drive me crazy. I ignored them. Little did I know they just made me look crazy, as a form of imprisonment. This is making me crazy! Being here, locked up. Goddammit. I should’ve never told anyone that I have been contacted by aliens. Of course those alien fuckwads are not going to save me. Fuck them. Shit shit shiT! AW SHIT.
    Xaphor appears. “Dude, you are SO DREAMING.”
    “No, I am not. I am going crazy, and you are a figment of my imagination.”
    “STOP BEING AN IDIOT. WE HAVE THINGS TO DO. TAKE OFF YOUR COSTUME, AND LET’S GO, NOMAD.”
    “Okay, I am just going to ignore you Mr. Figment. La la la...”
    “Oh! You’re incorrigible.”
    “Oh, good he’s gone.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    “Well, I can’t see you.”
    “Because I am invisible.’
    “Soon, I am going to stop hearing you.”
    “No.”
    “La la la.. I am just here in this padded room by myself.”
    “NO YOU ARE NOT! STOP TALKING LIKE A RAVING LUNATIC, AND LISTEN TO ME. THIS IS A GODDAMNED DREAM, YOU FUCKING IDIOT! AA! YOU ARE PISSING ME OFF!”
    “Whoah... that was really loud.. I actually felt the sound in my chest...”
    “That’s because, I am real.”
    “Are you a ghost?”
    “No!” he shouts materializing in front of me. “I am your Dream Guide, he says, breathing hot dragon breath in my face. I feel like I just got sunburned. Ow...”
    “Okay, this is obviously real, so how did I get here?”
    Xaphor leaps upon my legs, and bites my face. I scream in pain, and writhe out of my straightjacket, ripping it off and Xaphor, flinging him across the room. He hits the wall and smiles. “That’s th spirit, Nomad. Now let’s kick some interdimensional ass.”
    “Stop trying to make me sound crazy, demon!” I shout, becoming a demon zombie.
    “Why are you morphing?”
    “I don’t know, Xaphor.”
    “You are in Nightwalker School.”
    “Holy shit! I forgot.’
    “Yes. Epic PHAIL! on your part. Looks like Wounded Paw is not going to hire you.”
    “Dude, I don’t even know what a Nightwalker is. Gawn doesn’t tell me shit! It’s annoying.”
    “You should trust him. He is the Dream Warrior Master.”
    “I do trust him, but that has nothing to do with being curious.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t think you are ready.”
    “What is a Nightwalker, Xaphor? No riddles.”
    “You made it up.”
    “Oh... uh... no I didn’t! What the fuck?”
    “A Nightwalker is a dream invader, a Nightmare Inducer. A Nightwalker induces two types of nightmares for two different reasons. One nightmare is the Adventure Nightmare. A Nightwalker will invade the dream of a non-lucid dreamer to induce lucidity and recall through fear or amazement. The other type is Pure Vengeance. In this type of Nightmare, the Nightwalker will invade the dreams of an evil person, to avenge the victims of their evil deeds. These dreams are the ones in your Hidden DJ that you have in your dreams.” Xaphor reads from a book.
    “Uh, what is that book?”
    “Your book.”
    “What’s the name?”
    “Dreamwalking: Oneiromancy for the New Millennium.”
    “Kind of long.”
    “Meh.”

    missing time

    I am in a dojo. I am learning basic martial arts. “Time to get back to the basics, Nomad. Time to have lucid dreams in Alpha State. Valerian, Choline, use whatever aid you can. Melatonin, vitamins... just do it all. nothing is cheating. Mother Earth provides us with such things for dreaming. Electronics are machines made by man’s mind. Amazing. Do not fear of relying on such devices. When the time comes for you to become a cyborg, choose wisely a company known for quality, such as Yamaha.
    As soon as he says “Yamaha,” I lunge at him, knowing he must be some Templar fuckwad trying to infect my dreams with Consumerism. “FUCK YOUR PRODUCT PLACEMENT, BITCH!” I shout, as I leap upon his chest, and beat his ass. It’s Gawn. “It’s Gawn.” I stand up.
    “Yes, I know who I am. You don’t have to tell me, idiot.”
    “”Oh, shit! Did I say that out loud?”
    Gawn rolls his eyes. “Actually, the founder of Yamaha is an avid lucid dreamer, who dreams about quality, and perfection. He plays every saxaphone, drives every motorcycle in his dreams after the engineers come to him with their designs. He has taught his top designers to lucid dream. In fact, its a requirement for all lead engineers of Yamaha to be able to lucid dream at will.”
    “Are you serious.”
    “Yes.”
    “So, are you saying I should work for Yamaha?”

    “No, I am just saying when you buy your cyborg parts for your body, look for a company with a reputation for quality. Wake up! You are dreaming.”
    “Oh, right. I forgot. Thanks. Oh wow. I am. Gawn, I have to wake up, an write this down.”

    “Do it.”

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    Tags: angel, delta, eyes, god
    Categories
    lucid

    Comments

    1. saltyseedog's Avatar
      Nomad I love you because your dreams help to not think I'm crazy.