non-lucid

Three weeks without missing a day and suddenly something interesting happens on the weekend.

A man is holding me and two other woman captive. We're being kept in the employee section of a motel in Ixburg, and though I pretty much wander around as I do in other dreams, the women who are with me are terrified.

I'm left alone in the laundry room, which comes complete with all the stuff involved in running a motel. I idly search through needle-nosed pliers and other vaguely pointy things, before I pull a box cutter from the cleaning cart on the west wall. I use the pliers to pry the safety-features from the knife. I hear footsteps. The man walks into the room.

I have him pinned to the wall with a knife to his throat before he can blink. I can feel the savage grin splitting my face as I call to one of the other women. Lucy - long, curly brown hair - is standing down the hallway, looking nervous. I tell the man not to move; I won't hesitate to cut him open.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I really, really would."

Lucy hands me the phone in lieu of phoning 911 herself. I'm wondering if she can still speak.

"They're not going to believe you," says the man. "They're going to think you did this."

I ignore him.

"Amy speaking."

Confused, I ask, "Um, this is 911?"

"Yes."

"Wait, Amy?"

"Sam? Is that you?"

I break myself out of my reverie. "Amy, I need police -" I glance at Lucy, "and an ambulance at the Ixburg Inn." I briefly explain the situation.

"Phone number?" Remembrances of the first aid course I took.

I list off the phone number for the motel, as I remember it.

The man laughs. "It's been a while since you've lived here, hasn't it? We changed the phone number!"

"I gave them the address!"

The man may or may not have lived to stand trial.

Really Mad Hostages. Scare Factor: 3.

Actually, I'm pretty sure he did live, considering he was following me through a museum later on. Any tips for dealing with in-dream stalkers? Anyone?

Perspective switches like whoa.

Mad Scientists in Halifax. There's a pool ready for some Olympic event, and there are a lot of people crowded throughout the room, but no one in the pool.

***


I'm travelling through a Middle Eastern country by car. Two families are in the car together, neither is mine, and the characters who are sitting in the 5-person capacity car keep rotating out on me. We/They are passing farms on either side, scattered across the hilly prairie like they are, well, on the prairies. The hills are practically mountainous, they're so steep, and the grid road has been built up a lot so that it doesn't have to follow such a treacherous path. I see people wandering the hills on camels, and wonder if I'm driving through a stereotype. Miranda's driving. I collaborate with a girl in the backseat, trying to find a way to make bread on the road. Just... because.

We/They are walking into a tourist trap.

"McDonald's!" I cry with faux glee. They really are everywhere, goddamnit.

The group heads to a sign that says bathrooms, and also has baths. We've been on the road for a while, and would really appreciate a chance to get clean. These are public baths, divided by gender. The group crowds around the front desk, looking at the signs on the desk for how much it would cost them to use the baths.


Somehow, this represents prices.

One of the girls catches up just as the rest of the group goes in. She doesn't have enough money? So she/I go(es) into one of the unisex bathrooms that are supposed to be private. Some random freaky guy shows up and she/I kick(s) his ass in a fight and then she takes off. Then I'm collectively the entire group of girls trying to figure out what happened and making up the story as they go.

Someone who looks like Cordelia Chase shows up and starts insulting everyone who works at the front desk no matter what their nationality is. DC behind the desk shifts into four different people.

I might be in an episode of a made-up season of Digimon, except there are no Digimon. There is an attempt to peer and squint at my handwriting, before I give up and just make shit up a group of characters that are replaced by new people when the original characters are taken out of the game die. A girl named Risa Cooper becomes the new Joy to much fanfare. She might be the girl from the previous dream.

There are two boys who seem to be best enemies. I alternate between their points of view for a while. Apparently, one of them is destined to kill the other, but neither of them wants to very much. They keep getting near to finishing the other one off, then backing off and doing it all again. They work together to defeat a monster. Then they put the eggs of the monster in the ground with the body and a bunch of fish or something. Then they bury it and decide that will hold them for a few years. Zooming back into a view of the desert.

I'm watching the episode online, and think about leaving a review via Stumbleupon along the lines of "You fucking idiots, why do you not smash things to pieces then bury everything in separate fucking places so they do not immediately have something to feed on upon hatching."

Nitwit Protagonists Take 2. Scare Factor: 3. Reaction: WTF.

I'm standing in one of the cabins at a bible camp I used to attend. There are two girls in the room, and the first asks if I'll be staying here. I'm a bit confused, so I say that's possible, as I move my stuff across the room to an empty bed. This is an empty bed, right?

"What year is it?" I ask.

Without even blinking, the first girl replies, "1995". I do some quick calculations and realize that I'm pretty sure I didn't go to bible camp until '96 or '97. Briefly, my dream-self is my present-me, though no one other than me notices. I concentrate on shrinking myself to a point where I'll fit the story.

The first girl wants to make me feel better, so she hands me a 1995 issue of Climbing, still in plastic. I'm pretty excited, so I thank her and take the package, tearing it open. I ask if I can use the poster insert for the week, to hang on the wall. (Note: my real bedroom walls are plastered with climbing posters, art, postcards, and maps.) I notice that I've ripped the cover up the spine a bit, so I look for some tape to fix it.

Girl #1 asks me not to tell on her for using the word "hell".

I look around my suitcase and find a spiral bound notebook small enough to fit in the pocket of my cargo pants. The front pages are already filled with dream journal entries prefixed by the "~" I use in my written journal. I grab a pen, too. Might as well start on the kid genius routine to get a few writings published early.

Girl #2 is reading a book when the counsellor walks in, a girl with black curly hair who, huh, would actually be younger than me in real life. Weird. She praises the little girl with long blonde hair, who just looks more and more annoyed as she's praised and showered with gold stars and cabin points.

Hey, I remember that. In grade three. With the book on volcanoes. Hm.

Girl #1 immediately scoops up a book and pretends she was reading the whole time. The cabin counsellor looks at me expectantly.

"Eh heh, no." I say flatly, "I just finished reading The Great Gatsby; I'm going outside."

I wander away, looking for something to do. None of my contingency plans for time travel to bible camp go farther than "try not to get exorcised".

I sit on a swing and recognize a few relatives from an inlawish side of the family that doesn't actually exist yet. As I probably haven't met them, I resolve to swing on swings. And ask people what they would do if they got to relive their respective childhoods. Other than die of boredom.

Whatever it was that I decided to do, it got me in trouble, all right. There's a boy from the swing set crying in the kitchen we've been left in, repeatedly saying, "I'm going to hell!" I try to reassure him by saying that there's no such thing as hell; it's just a story. I stop short of saying "There's also no God, Easter Bunny, or Santa Claus," because that would just be mean. Oddly, the boy doesn't seem to have calmed down at all. So I ignore him.

From what they tell me, I'm half-sure they're going to get me to do their accounting for them. It turns out that the Mad Hatter intervened and I get to serve my time in the kitchen developing new flavours of candy. Mad Hatter, Willy Wonka, either way, I get to hang out with Johnny Depp.

Lucid moments while I'm waking up, or they wake me up. Dream scenes fade, swirling away into a brown-black nothing, while I hold on to the feeling of whatever I'm touching at the moment.

Bible Camp. Scare Factor: 2, oddly enough.

Alice and I are having grand adventures in a very big store that, oddly, doesn't change at all throughout the dream. Well, maybe a bit.

A young Draco Malfoy is trying to get me in trouble during class for using a fixative over my charcoal drawing. Prove it, Draco. They like me better than you here.

Horseback riding. I touch my friend on the shoulder and am surprised when a sudden movement causes her to be knocked to the ground. She hits her head on the ground / a rock, hard. After dismounting, my character quickly decides that Alice is dead and she should try to figure out who the murderer is. She gives a Sherlock-style monologue to the two evil stepsisters nearby, also on horseback, about figuring out the murder. In the background, from a third person POV, I'm screaming at my character, "Why don't you start CPR, already?!"

Nitwit Protagonists. Scare Factor: 3. Grr.

I meet Willow Rosenburg in yet another universe where Buffy (me) never arrived in Sunnydale. She's actually alive in this one, and seems to be a successful something going to school somewhere.

Cue shenanigans. Running through a mall after a bad guy, considering a shirt on a mannequin. Then there's a car chase through Ixburg.

We've been captured by someone relatively benevolent. I'm not Buffy, but another superhero. I go to sleep, and am treated to a fast-forward view of myself tossing and turning.

I wake up when I realize that there's an old man staring at me creepily, and I find that I'm somewhat glad I'm playing a male character. Probably. My dream-self looks like Nicki Aycox right now, but everyone sees me as a guy? Yeah, I've done this before in a dream. Some interesting conversations happen. Kind of like on the forums here, actually.

Anyway, I'm sitting in the kitchen of the farmhouse, plotting my escape and working on the projects I've been assigned. Willow's here, too. I think they want me to illustrate a comic book, and the people they're working with want me to design a website for them, the Catholic Church in Ixburg. I endeavor to cause their brains to liquefy and dribble out their ears, and decide to add a twitter feed to their homepage.

This is Your Church on Twitter. Scare Factor: 3 for the creepy old guy.

Originally Posted by Samael

I really haven't been lucid much since I've joined DV. Odd.

I'm in an afterlife version of downtown Quickton, wandering is separately from a group of people. There are at least four people here, but only one that I'm dealing with directly. I'm my female Lucifer character, and a female character is my main focus. I am, quite benevolently, her guide.

I look at the United Church. Cross streets on crosswalks. Generally being a smartass. There's a slight orange filter over everything.

Driving with the group, trying to retrieve something. The ground turns to water. Trying to swim out with buckets. There's a girl with long, blonde curly hair and her boyfriend there, trying to stay afloat with the bucket they're carrying together. Quite a bit of leather between them.

I'm myself, near an approximation of Quickton's high school. There's a lot of concrete. I'm dropping off something for my brother, Ben. I'm driving away down a dirt road when my car stalls, and won't start again. I put it in neutral and coast it down a dip in the road, out of the way. I get out of the car, take a shortcut through someone's house, nervous that the owner might catch me. Back yard, hallway, kitchen. Enter from the west, leave through the south. I have been here before.

I'm an old woman sitting in the third or fourth car of a train. I have the car all to myself. It's cozy, and I'm sipping tea. Bored now. I climb out of a window on the side of the car and haul myself onto the roof. Jump over the other two cars, after curiously investigating the occupants, and greet the driver in the engine. She's looking off to the side, staring at something out of a window. I demand to know what she's looking at, because it might be important. She points, and I guess she's talking about my car.


Ninja Grandma!

I jump from the train without waiting for it to stop and walk through the dark green grass to the orange-lit streets. Traffic is backed up, though people are surprisingly patient. I walk to the very front of the traffic jam, and climb into my car.

I'm a little girl, Alice, and I'm being forced to drive the car by my father/uncle/evil stepfather. I keep adjusting the seat so I can see properly. Driving down a highway, then down a hill under a tunnel in a city.

Wandering through a grand manor full of rich red and orange hues to find my character sitting on the balcony. She looks extremely depressed, but it might actually be a spell. The other characters are concerned.

We're in a cute little house on a hill, all pastels and green grass. I'm either the male or the female main character. Both are magic-users/witches/wizards. The family is almost identical to the Dursleys. Petunia has immaculately permed hair, Dudley looks like Harry, and so does Vernon, really. Except older. I'm aware that Vernon has been making deals with a minor demon/god who, in his true form, looks suspiciously like the Cheschire Cat.

A conversation with the family ends with us being locked in the cellar. I'm a Mia Wasikowska version of Alice, unrelated to the Dursleys. I doubt I've ever met them before. Harry and I plot our escape.



Later, I'm trapped at the kitchen table with Petunia and raspberry jam. Petunia's put on a veneer of politeness (while Harry is still in the cellar), using teatime as an excuse for an interrogation. Petunia doesn't think it's fair that our people keep secrets from her and her family* when the Dursleys are very obviously involved and in danger. Dudley lets us know from the door that Vernon is coming up the hill.

Vernon isn't alone. He steps into the house, perfectly blank in every way. An old man in a bowler hat walks calmly up the trail. He's a dead ringer for the man from a previous nightmare. Or God.



Petunia rushes to Vernon, asking what's wrong as Vernon stands motionlessly as a doll. I keep my attention on the man in the bowler hat, and nod slowly.

"The Lunar God," I say.

The man laughs and says yes, that's him, and Vernon's been dealing with him for quite some time.

He's given up control to you, I say quietly. For everything.

Well of course, but he didn't tell Vernon that beforehand. That would be a poor way to attract followers.

And then I wake up.

Alternate Perspective Disorientation. Scare Factor: 3.

I always wake up when I meet that character.

*She has a point.

I have the feeling that I ran into a recurring character last night, a woman I suspect might be my dream guide. I'm leaning toward a name along the lines of Elaine/Lane/Lana, and I think I used Elaine while I was talking to her. I don't remember what was said.

The people taking a first aid course become evil vampires and Quickton (nickname for the city I'm living in) becomes Sunnydale.

I'm arguing with a character from Naruto (which is odd, since I don't watch it). I think it might be Sasuke. We spot an ambassador for something and make a bet that I can't catch him.

The man is being driven either by a car or a coach, but it's black either way. I follow from the rooftops and then from within buildings, tracking my progress mentally while I can't see the car.

I take a shortcut, arrivin at his home before he does, coming across hostiles as soon as I do. Before I even realize that I've reacted, there are bodies on the floor. I inspect them, coming to the realization that these people were here to kill the ambassador. I just saved his life - this is an in.

Half a dozen people walk happily through the back door, as I wait around a corner for my entrance. Hm. Too many. Presumably the ambassador's wife and family. The bodies disappear with the lack of a thought, and I step out of my hiding place, all smiles.

Well, I'm the maid, of course! I tell them, playing on my gender, charm, and general blondeness. Who wouldn't trust a sweet, unarmed woman? (I tuck the knife/gun in the waistband of my jeans.) You mean you didn't order maid service? I say to the wife. Oh, dear, I say, the company must have made a mistake. Perhaps you can help me with the directions?

I take out a couple pieces of paper with scribbles on them, making up street addresses as I go.

An opportunity to talk to the ambassador arrives, and I take it. It's time to reveal my true purpose. I propose an alliance of sorts, leaning on his gratitude for saving the lives of his family. We have a common enemy after all. Blackmail is also involved.

The Ninja Maid. Scare Factor: 2.

I was going through some old dream journals and thought I'd type up a couple for reference. The first dream occurred shortly after I heard that my family had been in a minor car accident. Everyone was fine. Well, except for the wildlife involved.

August 2009

I'm rock climbing at the local crag (but in a different city) when I get the call. Mom hands the phone off to a grief counsellor or something. She tells me that my dad has passed away, but do I want to see my huge birthday cake? Hey, do I want to have the phone held up to the body's ear so I can talk to him? I'm watching the head get cut off of the body, presumably having to do with cremation. I close my eyes, nauseous.

Scrambling down a steep trail now, made of granite and overgrown with tree roots. I'm thrown into what seems like a very vivid memory on top of the dream I'm in. I'm a black man in South Africa, and I'm brandishing a knife, trying to fend off two men who attacked my wife.


Except with roots.

My dream-ego, still looking on from the first dream, hopes that I'm not going to hurt anyone.

My strike goes wide, and I injure my wife instead, watching with horror as her blood spills to the red ground. She's dead so, so quickly. Our local equivalent of a doctor appears, and she tries to slice my wife's body down from the roots that are binding her, thinking she might still be able to save her. She won't. Our son! Our son us still here. I take him and run.

Mortality. Scare Factor: 8. I remember chalking up this one as "The Nightmare of 2009".

I didn't remember the dream until I read about it though. It's not quite so scary when I remember "Dad's fine; I saw him yesterday."

Within the dream, the dream-within-the-dream was a memory of a previous life. It was so vivid, I practically felt the same way when I woke up.

Using characters from Fox and the Hound. I think the hunter is my father. I'm walking around our property, noticing that some areas are places you really shouldn't be hunting around.

Henry Spencer from Psych takes over the role of father. He's giving me a lift via boat to some point on the lake. Promises me lessons in something or other. I'm writing out a list/schedule for training.

The devil is sabotaging our bet by making my workouts easier. I notice every once in a while that the machines are on an easier setting than they're supposed to be.

The Devil, Oddly. Scare Factor: 2.

Briefly, I'm Shawn Spencer from Psych. I check my backpack for water. I have a little over two bottles left. It's around 4PM. I decide to do the 3KM hike instead of the 5KM hike; I'll probably be back by 6PM and I'll get to the first peak of the Chief. The route is a combination of my running route here and the real hike in Squamish. I don't have a map with me, but I know the trail well enough.

Similar location, female form. I'm talking to either my Oma or my Aunt Audrey. They keep switching. I'm watching the fire. There's something flammable (fireworks, ammunition?) in one of the wooden containers being licked at by the flames.

I'm in a restaurant of a hotel with my mom and great grandma. Our tables are switched. I have a copy of a menu in my hand, and two spoons because I was holding one from the other table.

I'm (working) in an office building. I keep speaking to bosses higher-up. I think one of them looks familiar (might be Jameson from Spider-man movies).

I'm an American sniper in America and I'm being shot at. I'm with several other snipers at the top of a very tall tower surrounded by water surrounded by a city which might be San Francisco. I'm standing up, but I'm quickly pulled down by another man when I become aware of being in someone else's sights. A missile heads toward us on a crazy, spiralling course. It explodes over our heads.

Patrick and Spongebob's houses are split in half and combined with Squidward in the middle, freaking out. Flashback to Patrick and Squidward trying to play a practical joke on Spongebob. A stone statuette of a face embedded in rock.

Restaurants With Poor Customer Service. Also: Missiles. Scare Factor: 2.

This dream took place over the course of several days, with time-skips between unimportant parts.

A woman shows me a new kata.

I'm on a farm, apparently visiting my Oma. She gives us (myself and a girl) a ride into town. I make fun of her car.

We arrive at the tournament, which takes place in my hometown. The girl (I have the feeling I knew her) and I are going to perform some kind of strange team kata that's some kind of dance, and the one we're doing has a male and a female character. I'm playing the male character even though I'm female in the dream.

It's about 10AM, and our part doesn't come around until around 1PM. I'm not dressed yet and I can't find my sword. I might have to ask my Oma (whose car I made fun of) for a ride home to look for it.

My mom brings my sword, but I'm still not dressed. It's into the afternoon now. I peek out of the dressing rooms to check that they're not calling for us.

For some reason, I'm not wearing my karate uniform, but something more like a dress robes. There's a red dress long... robe-like thing made of a kind of satin-like material, and an outer set of long black robes that look more like my gi than anything I've seen yet in this dream.


Oh, yeah, definitely. That is totally what I meant.

I'm standing beside my partner for the team kata (who looks a bit like a geisha), wondering about the feminist implications of this performance. I mean, one of us doesn't actually do anything.

Oh, yeah, you do that fan kata.



Wait, we actually both have a kata to do.

This is followed by several minutes of panic, within which I realize I've forgotten my kata.

Then we're standing in front of the judges, and I'm going through the motions of my sword kata, which I've known for a very long time.

You know, my partner hasn't said anything this entire time.

Shift.

I'm at a boarding school with my high school classmates, or I'm finishing off a karate class. We're all actually at a dream-changed version of a parish hall in my hometown.

"Line up!" Calls Sensei B, one of my old instructors.

My high school classmates mill about (quickly) in confusion, most of them not having been in karate. In the chaos, I'm trying to figure out which line I should be in, with my... red belt.

I'm a green belt, right?

I'm standing in line when I realize that my already ridiculous costume has been substituted for a sheer lingerie-style robe.

I think Sensei B is making fun of me.

Dream-Style Karate Tournaments. Scare Factor: 3.5. Would prefer to avoid.

Game. Tree. Spy. Babysitting.

It feels like I might be playing a video game. There are two characters: the main character is following a mentor archtype through a forest filled with ruins and caves leading deep below the surface. I'm not sure if I'm the mentor or the MC; I might be both. We're searching for a series of gemstones or charms, consulting witches on the way. On some level, I know the MC won't go for the mentor's final goal. It's far too diabolical.

There are something like four dimensional levels of this tree, and we're exploring them all. I recall at least two characters (though I'm sure there were more): the theoretical expert, and the practical one. Again, I think I'm both characters. Somehow, climbing the tree leads to different dimensional gateways, though I don't remember where they were all located. Dimensions below the surface still had branches and a fall that would probably kill you. I remember that TE is very well protected via anchors and harnesses and carabiners, presumably because the various dimensions can be so disorienting. I remember being the TE, and being left on one of the explored levels, then being the PE and actually exploring a deeper one. When we get to the final level, we find another gateway. We go back to the surface to recoup.

Spying is involved. A guy of about my age may have information that our organization desperately needs. Me and another female friend get ourselves invited to... watch movies or something in a group. We're sitting in a basement on a bunch of couches. Then everything is flooding. I stay behind to grab all of my things that are scattered below the water (seems to be my swimming stuff and a coil-bound notebook containing instructions). An older man, maybe the other guy's dad, is back for me, scolding me for not evacuating and leaving my stuff behind - is it really worth my life? Considering how incriminating that notebook is, it very well could be.

I think I'm found out later, anyway.

"If we're babysitting tonight, why are we here in the morning?" Apparently the parents don't actually need us until 9PM. I resolve to put the brats to bed VERY early, and enjoy the party in the meantime.

Third Person Narration. Scare Factor: 2. It's annoying for dream recall.

I'm at school in Halifax. Now I'm going to school in a mall in Halifax. I have some studio space near the entrance of the mall. It's like a stand at a farmer's market, all open. As usual, I work by spreading all of my stuff over every surface, even infringing on the space of other vendors. Temporarily, I promise.

Now I'm going to class in the mall, but I need a specific kind of button for a project, and I can't find them. Big buttons that you'd find on a velvet jacket? Someone mentioned I should try Buttons R' Us or something, on the second floor. I think I have a vague idea of where it should be, so I'll try it out. I take the stairs, but it's all confusing and I don't know where everything is.

And then I spot the robots. At first, I think they're statues, but they're moving around, each of them patrolling a little corner of their own. They seem to be placed at major exits and intersections in the mall. This... could be a problem.

I'm young, maybe ten years old. I'm in a church, sitting in the back row and threading a leather string through the covers of the bibles/hymn books stacked in piles beside me. The other people are being led in the lord's prayer, but I can always say I didn't know it. I'm so engrossed in my work that I don't notice that the service is over and the priest is standing nearby. My friend who dragged me here is sitting beside me, and her mother is in one of the aisles, looking on disapprovingly. And this feels like deja-vu.

It's a surprise when I realize that the priest isn't mad. He's curious, more like, wondering what I've been doing. At one point, I show him that I can lift the books without touching them. Up, up, up, and they fall to the floor. He isn't angry. He tells me that I'm having trouble holding them steady, right? To hold them in one place, I need to harness the potential energy that they have while being held up. They're at rest; they just need to stay that way. I try again, this time doing as he says, and it works beautifully.

I'm somewhat aware that I look like Jubilee. I'm back in the mall, surrounded by Sentinels. I still need to get to class, but somehow that seems like less of a priority at the moment.

At one point, the sentinels are on high alert, and I hear a transmission over the radio, telling all mutants to either get out of the mall, or find refuge in one of the stores (apparently a safe-zone). Not everyone can hear the announcement, I realize. I've been using the stairways that don't seem to be guarded. I spot a Subway nearby.

On the way, I notice that a bunch of the buttons I've been looking for have spilled across the hallway. I decide that picking them up would attract attention, because this is somehow a trap. I discretely pull several buttons from the floor and place them in the pocket of my long jacket, before realizing that this could have been a trap as well, and I probably won't be able to use the buttons for my project.

I make my way to the Subway, even if I'm not hungry, and realize that I don't have enough cash (only change from the last dream), and I'll have to use my debit card. (Wait, I might have a ten.) I stay in the Subway after ordering, until I get bored and annoyed and decide to take out one of the Sentinels on my own.

I manage to separate and corner one away from the rest, outside. It tells me it has a picture of me in its memory, and I'll be hunted now anyway. I realize that's true, so I tell it that I've been wearing a mask the whole time. And now I have been.

Fire's supposed to work well against them for some reason, but my pyrokinesis is on the fritz (read: weak). I'm joined by a boy of about ten who fancies himself a superhero, and helps me cause damage to the thing. It's not fighting back much. I lift the Sentinel about ten meters into the air and let it crash back to the ground. The boy and I then use our limited fire-powers to melt the Sentinel's internal systems and then go investigate it's car.

We find something surprising, and decide it would be a great idea to go back into the mall and pretend to be a part of an anti-mutant demonstration UNTIL THE TIME IS RIGHT TO STRIKE!

Homicidal Robots, Mutant-icidal Robots? Scare Factor: 2.

Alone. Bus trip. Ferry ride.

I've found myself on a road trip with my brother, mom, and dad, in our old Ford Truck. It's rather cramped. I have my laptop-sized bookbag with me, and it's stuffed in with me in the back seat.

I hassle my dad to stop at the Husky/Tim Horton's along the road, and am surprised when he relents. I go inside and say "Hi" to the person at the counter. For some reason, I'm surprised I don't recognize her. I have to step in behind the counter a bit to get a look at the donuts and bagels, and I happily choose one with purple icing and rainbow sprinkles. I count through my pocket chane; I've already used my debit card (and I recall swiping an identical one before realizing it wasn't mine). I ask what my total comes to. I have to ask a few times, because I can't understand her and the number above the register keeps changing. Also, I only have about 75 cents.

Finally, she tells me that the price is 9 cents plus tax, so I should just give her a dime. I thank her and take my brown paper bag, heading to the car.

"Sorry I took so long," I say, knowing full well we won't be stopping for a while now. I open my bag to find three donuts and a pack of gushers. Weird. I start in on the gushers, deciding that junk food is the point of a road trip anyway and it's hard to find vegetarian stuff at all fast food restaurants.

We're trying to figure out how to get out of town, because one of the main roads switches over regularly and we seem to be cut off at the moment. Several-point turn to get out of a dead-end. People playing in the water in the ditch ("A good way to get hepatitis," my dad notes). Asking for directions at some kind of a hunting lodge.

We drive out of town, but the road seems less like a road and more something you'd do to wreck vehicles on GTA. Driving through parkades or something. Graffiti. Stairs.

Family Vacations. Scare Meter: 2. Boring as long as you skip the horror movie casting.

or

People to Deliberately Annoy Even More than You Already Have Just By Existing

I'm taking a course that requires all the participants to stay together in a hotel room for some reason. We pool all our food together to come up with a really weird breakfast. A can of brown beans are involved. Which are vegetarian.

Shift.

I'm staying in a hotel in a city where one of my friends from high school - Miranda - lives. I spot her, and we hang out for a while. One of those drivable carts and a supermarket are involved.

Shift

This is a duel between an approximately 20-year-old Harry Potter and one Professor Severus Snape. I smirk. This is going to be fun. I'm approaching the tournament as if it's a video game, wearing down my opponents with a barrage of spells, exhausting them. Then I'll disarm them with an expelliarmus.

"Expelliarmus!" I shout, aiming at Snape.

He shields easily, smirking at my incompetence. There's going to be a lot of smirking going on in this match.

"Sectumsempra!" I call out before he has a chance to get a spell off. A scythe of dark energy slices toward him. There, that one wasn't so easy to block.

I'm going to have trouble remembering spells for this dream, I realize.

We circle each other, I mostly dodging the spells that he sends at me. Until he's standing with his back to a seemingly bottomless pit, facing me warily.

Bad, bad move.

I shout two random words to cover what I'm doing, forcing a wave of kinetic energy towards Snape, who is pushed off the edge, and if that's from the wrong movie, I'm sure no one will ever notice. The boundary spells will catch him. Probably.

(I'm proven right when he's yelling, a few minutes later, that he will triumph in the end, and will beat me in one of the upper levels of the tournament. At least he's confident that I'll get that far.)

New match.

A kid - a young Crabbe from the movies, I think - is attempting to creep silently through a poorly-lit arena, stirring up dust as he goes. I think he has an allergy, because suddenly he has to sneeze, and he can't help it - he sneezes, the sound echoing loudly through the darkness. My third person POV catches the horrified look on his face as it zooms back to another room, where Snape is creeping along more successfully. Snape hears the sneeze, turns quickly to where the sound is coming from and moves hurriedly toward the other room, ready to sneak up behind Crabbe and take him by surprise -

Expelliarmus.

Snape's wand is sent flying out of his hand by my spell, and I catch it out of the air. I smile brightly and wave, and Snape is positively fuming while he's pulled out of the game.

Crabbe is expecting me, though, and our disarming spells are shouted at exactly the same time, resulting in a brief wave of energy that has both of us stumbling back. I recover first, and launch myself at him, scrambling for the wand. I catch it by the tip, and pull it with me as I roll past him, but the wand is about as strong as tumbleweed, and doesn't even make a decent snap as it breaks cleanly in half.

The kid is staring at his remaining half in horrified fascination.

"Ouch," I wince sympathetically, "And this is the world where no other wand is going to work for you as well as the first one." Crabbe looks crestfallen. "Oh well. I win, right?"

I guess the answer is yes, because the next thing I'm aware of is stumbling through a bar after a round of celebratory shots. I sit down at a table.

"May we join you?"

I'm reintroduced to Fleur Delacour, who I met a few years ago, as well as a pretty brunette with curly hair whose name I don't remember. I flirt shamelessly with both of them, and we have what I'm sure is an incredibly deep and nuanced conversation.

I'm still in the bar when I realize, abruptly, that I'm dreaming, for no real reason whatsoever. It's not so much that everything comes into focus, but that my awareness expands exponentially, and for those few seconds, I feel fucking awesome. I'm exploring the boundaries of the dream, looking for possibilities.

Then the brunette invites me to dinner, and I decide that here is fine.

We're sitting together on a couch, eating what I'm certain are some very expensive appetizers. She mentions that they'll be leaving to China shortly, for a business meeting, but we'll have to meet up again.

Shift.

I'm in a theatre, watching a movie along with, I think, my family. Water is pouring from a shower-head on the ceiling for some reason. I'm sure there was a very good reason for that, having to do with the toddler who has latched onto me as a babysitter.

Shift.

I'm in Halifax. Yay, I love Halifax! I'm along with my younger-than-they-are-in-real-life cousins and my brother. We decide that the most efficient way to get back to our hotel with all our luggage is to take a kayak back there.

...

So we rent a kayak from MEC, and paddle across the harbour with it. The geography has changed immensely, and I don't seem to be deathly afraid of the water.

Seriously, you don't want to go anywhere near the Halifax harbour water.

But I am concerned when it splashes all over my backpack, which holds my laptop, which is still on. I open it up, pop the battery out, and don't bother to wonder where all of my cousins are.

We get back to the hotel, where everything gets a little fuzzy. I think I'm either Sam or Dean Winchester at one point, having an argument with whichever one of the brothers I'm not.

But I have to return the kayak, so I bring it back to the dock, and then I'm at the hotel, but I realize I have to bring it to the store, so I convince someone who looks a lot like Alan Rickman into bringing it back to the store for us, please.

And then I spend the rest of the dream wandering around Halifax and making up parks that don't exist.

Pissed Off Teachers. Scare Factor: 2/10, but only for the first two dreams that were really feverish and hallucinatory.