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    Liolar

    Game of Thrones: Being Reek: A Terrifying Dream!

    by , 07-17-2014 at 09:38 PM (579 Views)
    ((I'd advise not looking this up if you don't want sort of Season 3/4 Spoilers! I thought I would post this as an example of the kinds of panic-ridden dreams I have on a semi-regular basis; I had never had a nightmare that felt as vivid as this, though I never became lucid.))

    21st June 2014:


    Tonight's dream was particularly unpleasant. I am writing this a lot later than when it actually happened, but I still remember the basics. In this dream I was Reek, from Game of Thrones, not Theon, but Reek. Luckily, though, I still had my manhood. For some reason, Ramsay Snow had taken me to a museum, a huge, grand place, with beige marble steps leading to its glorious entrance; inside were high domed ceilings, and esteemed works of art; everything was the same marbled beige, with a hint of orange; it was a very regal colour, I thought. I was led along by Ramsay by a chain on my neck, and once the brief tour was concluded, which I actually saw little of in the dream, I was thanked for my obedience, and Ramsay said that there would be a reward for me when I got back, to which I replied "Thank you, master." meekly. As we went outside back onto the cliff, which somehow floated in the air like something out of Avatar (yet it had none of the lush vegetation, only short green grass and steep, grey, rocky sides that formed a point beneath the landmass, like a floating pinnacle), I realised that a rescue attempt had been staged by Brienne of Tarth, Asha Greyjoy and what appeared to be an identical twin of Theon. I don't recall what happened to Brienne or Asha, but I know that the clone of Theon was knocked off the cliff (by an arrow to the chest, I think), which he fell from wordlessly, and I did not see him again. I knew I could not allow myself to show my dismay to Ramsay, or he might think me disloyal, so we continued back to where we were intending to go; I don't know how we got off the floating cliff, though.

    In the next scene, I was sitting hunched up beneath in a tight corridor surrounded by mesh fences; the floors were made of a rough, splintery looking wood, and behind the mesh fences there didn't seem to be anything, so I can only assume that they were spacious holding cells, or maybe they were just there to make the corridor uncomfortably narrow. Set into this corridor was a huge iron door, locked and bolted, but I think I could hear screams coming from inside. Ramsay spoke to me threateningly about my "reward", his sadistic half-smile on his face. I insisted pathetically that I was loyal and that he promised he wouldn't hurt me, but I knew then that I had been wrong. I knew that something terrible was happening to the man behind that door, and that I was next. I knew that he was going to chop my manhood off. I had no choice but to run. I sprinted through the cramped corridors as fast as I could, and felt the exasperation as I had to squeeze through narrow openings, through tight walls of spikes and rollers lined with the same sharp implements; every time I had to cross such an obstacle, Ramsay caught up with me a little more, but I kept going, and going, and going. I came to a large marble staircase, sensing that I had reached the less shabby part of the castle, nearing freedom. I bumped into a wiry, frumpish serving woman in sweeping skirts, with her white and grey hair tied into a neat bun. I began to cry weakly for help as I neared the exit, until finally I emerged out into the daylight, or at least I think it was day; I don't quite remember. I stopped the first man I saw, a smart looking gentleman with a fine moustache and a posh Southern (British) accent that suggested lordliness. I rambled that Lord Ramsay was evil, that he was going to chop off my manhood, that he had to alert the authorities, that he must do something, but the man seemed positively nonplussed by my desperate pleas for help, and simply said: "I can't help you there. Lord Ramsay can do as he likes." I should mention that outside, the exterior of the castle where I had been kept looked very much like the rocky, barren land that had covered the floating museum-cliff.

    Seeing no other option, I ran until somehow, I ended up on the main high street of my city. I began to feel hopeful; I was losing Lord Ramsay, but perhaps one of his lackeys would catch me; no doubt he'd have them combing the area for me. I had never felt so desperate in a dream before, and I felt my real life disability setting in (I walk with a limp), yet I continued running, panting raggedly. Then, my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees, still I kept moving, crawling along the ground in a desperate struggle for freedom; if I could reach the statue of St. George and the Dragon a short distance away (even though it was in the wrong place in the city during this dream) I knew I might be further away. As I had been running down the street, I had glimpsed Lord Ramsay, and heard him shouting "Reek! Reek!" which only enhanced my desperation. It was then that my legs had given out. I must have been running for what felt like 20 minutes.

    I managed to reach the monument, only to be stopped by Jaime (an old school friend of mine, surname omitted. ); he had apparently become an agent of Lord Ramsay's, and he said in a matter-of-fact tone: "Sorry Reek, but I'm going to have to take you back." I felt angry and betrayed, and swung at him, having managed to stand up, but all the strength had gone out of my arms. I knew that it was useless to resist, and that Lord Ramsay would take me back to the Dreadfort. It was only then that I woke up, agitated, but also relieved.
    Verre likes this.

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    Comments

    1. Verre's Avatar
      Terrifying, perhaps, but an awesome dream nonetheless!
      Liolar likes this.