Here be dragons

I'm in a nodescript house, sitting at the kitchen table with another girl and her mother. They're talking while prepping diner. I'm not really helping, mostly I listen to their chatter and the sound of cooking. The room is sunny, with long rays of lights cutting the walls.
The night falls, and we're in a park, under the streets lamps. There's a man with us, with short brown hair and a pâle, blandly handsome face. He's talking to the mother, very close to her. The girl is frightened, hiding behind me.
Her mother disappears and the street lamp over him goes out. He laughs and introduces himself as Lucifer. He moves for the girl, but I take her arms and run. We go from light to light, until I have enough and pull a knife. We turn around and the girl grabs the man.

Spoiler for don't fear the devil:

She pulls his head up and I slash his throat, again and again, the skinsplitting on the fleshe, bones and cartilages. The flesh is dark, almost purple, wiry and pulsing. I keep at it, the knife slipping easily through all, until I decapitate him. The girl keeps her hold on his hair as the body slumps foward. I grab his arm and start to drag it with us. The girl holds the head away from her body, looking disgusted. He's still speaking, trying to sweetalk us into reattach him.We end up at the top of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. The water are wild, full of foam. I tell the girl to throw the head first, so he can't see where his body land. She toss is hard enough for it to land almost on the face of the cliff on the other side. I drag the body and dump is once the head has disappear under the waves.

I'm in a classroom. The ceiling is incredibly tall, and the windows match, long and narrow. It's overcast outside, the sky white and the colors intense in the gray light. The teacher, a young woman with brown hair and a long, white knitted cardigan is writing on the blackboard. She turns around and sees me, gently telling me to take a seat, but not on the right hand side, because there's snow. I can't believe it and go take a look a the old school desks. All the desk right in front of the window are covered with a thin layer of snow. I gather some in my hand, making a loose ball. I notice that there isn't any snow on the ground outside and wander to the other side of the room, where the teacher is opening the other window. It makes a cold breeze, and I hug the wall to protect myself a little. There is a group of man outside, kneeling and bowing in the grass. One of them gets up, turns around and starts yelling in a language I don't understand to the teacher, and I think to throw the snowball at him, but she's still smiling and I understand that this is a religious ceremony, so I try to be respectful and get my snowball for myself. I point out to the teacher that since there's snow in the classroom, we should take the kid elsewhere. She agrees and we step out of the building with her class, all of the bundled up in big winder coats and long scarfs. As I walk I get a little sidetracked when a herd of sheeps walk past me, pulling a pretty wooden sleigh painted in dark green, with golden accents and red velvet cushions. The driver is a dwarf man, who gives me a wink as they pass. Now, there's snow everywhere, pilled on the corner of the streets by the crowd. I get inside a coffee shop and the class and teacher are here, busy getting hot cocoa and big, fluffy mashmallows. It's a old place, mostly made of wood, with a long bar and a low, slopped ceiling.

I'm laying on my bed, feeling warm and relaxed. I start to get the rocking feeling I associate with dream, but I get a little too enthousiastic and wake up instead of getting into the dream. I don't move and bid my time. When I feel it's strong enough, I throw my dream body out and roll of the bed. I grab the edge to get back up and follow it to the window, in pitch blackness as usual. I get out through the window and walk alongside the wall until I start getting my vision back. As it happen, I snap back in my bed, once again in the dark and half awake.
At this point I take the time to calm down, still not moving, because lucidity in ten seconds intervalls will get tedious. I do the whole throwing my body out again and get out, keeping my hand on the wall and focusing on the texture to keep me grounded. I get my vision slowly, and I'm in the front garden. The car usually parked here is nowhere to be seen and Everything is tinged by the golden light of a very late afternoon. My vision is somewhat blurry, and there is somme kind of dark circle obscuring it. I make the gesture of taking of a pairs of glasses and hear them hitting the ground, but it doesn't really help. It's irking me and that's not good for the dream's stability, so I decide to let it go instead of focussing on it. I walk a little down the road, knowing that I need to find someone, but not remembering who. I extent my hand behind me tentatively, but no-one grabs it. I walk a little more, trying to remember, but I really don't remember and I start to worry that the phone is going to wake me up.
So I just call Eli for a hug


I'm going to need a post-it with "silvery man" written on waiting on my pillow everynight, don't I?

I'm riding a horse, pushing it to run through an old, decaying city of stones. It's build over water, and we have to jump over water canals to reach my objective. It's a tower of crumbling stones, half covered with wines. I get off my horse and get in.
It's not abandonned; in fact, there are people here, a family. They furnished the house with drapes, flowing veils and scattered cushions, all very colorful and standing out again the gray stones. It does little to protect us from the damp, chilly atmosphere, but it's cheerful. I get up some crumbling stairs, ending up in a bedroom with one of the wall destroyed, opening into a breath taking vista of the lake the city is build on. I feel tired, and lay down on some cushions.
I wake up from the panicked call of the mother of the house, begging me to take her daughter and flee. I get up and slip on a bright blue t-shirt big enough to dress a lumberjack and pull the girl with me to the fallen wall. She doesn't thing twice and jump in the lake. I take a more safe approch and climb down the wall before getting into the water. My plan is to swim discreetly to the border of the town, where my horse is waiting.

I'm in a rainforest, everything is dark green, from the foilage to the moss-covered trunks, the trees high enough that the sky is reduced to small swatch of grey between the branchs. There are grooves on the ground, incovering dark, red-tinged dirt. The path I'm walking on is narrow, cramped by the flora. It smells cold, like frozen stones and wet dirt. At the end of the path I find a clearing, with a herd of baie horses. There's lots of them, enough that the clearing feels overcrowned, claustrophobic. They aren't big or tall horses; I would call them ponies, but they don't have that king of build. I feel uneasy in the middle of them, nervous and restless.

Spoiler for you are what you eat:

I still walk in a little deeper in the herd, and I find a foal, that seem to be grazing. I look down and it's not grazing; it's nimbling on a horse leg, the bone at the top gleaming in the gray light, the flesh very red and wet with blood. The foal have sharp, flat teeths, and its tongue makes a grinding sound on the skin of the leg. Its nimbling makes the leg move at the joints, the hoof twitching. Looking around, I an see the dead horse it belongs to, a baie one. It's partially eviscerated, other horses eating off the carcass, ripping pieces of flesh and slowly masticating, big dark eyes waiting.

I take a small step back, and suddently I'm surrounded with other horses; they are taller, with a more heavy build; golden palomino, with a bleached blond mane and light gold pelt; event their hooves are light-colored. The one closer to me stomps the ground, and I can feel it shake; the baie horses nicker and steps back, shaking their heads. I can feel the heat radiating from the golden horses, engulfing me. The one closer to me is holding its head at eyes level with me; it's eyes are black, fringed with almost white lashes.
I am holding a silver thing that looks like a big spoon or a laddle. I bang it against a nearby trunk; it makes the same kind of sound that the hoof stomping, but mutch deeper, the vibration rippling through me and the clearing. The baie horses step sharply back, shaking their heads and tails as if bothered by flies. I do it again, and they flee. The golden horses flood the clearing, and the light sees to be a little clearer.

I'm in a house overlooking the forest, with a woman and her very young daughter. The little girl starts complaining about tummy aches, before blunting out "I'm having twins!" the mother freaks out, but I somehow know that the one having twins is one of the golden mares. It seem to calm down the woman, and get go downstairs. The kitchen is flush with the forest, and there are horses wairing for us. I search the frige and get two apples out, handing the biggest one to the woman. She's nervous, afraid that the mare will chomp her fingers. I show her how to give them the fruit, making my hand nice and flat with the apple in my palm. The horse I'm offering it to take a big bite out of it, chew a little then come back for the rest, its nose soft and velvety. I hear the loud craking sound of the apple being chewed up and there's some crumbs in my hand. I brushes them off and see that the woman managed to give her apple to the other horse just fine.
We mash somes medicinals herbs and clay together and looks for the pregnant mare. It turned into a young woman, and her belly is so huge she can't move from the bed she's sitting on. I give her the mix, and she start covering her swollen stomatch with it, sighing in relief. Her skin is so streched I can see her veins running under, and the pulse of the blood in it.

Got lost in a big city of old stones and neons light.

Spent the night flying.

I'm in a field again, green wispering grass, low rolling hills. There's a light breeze, pushing white clouds in the bright blue sky. As I look around, the ground starts to shake; I hear a low rumbling and crackling, peebles rolling. Out of the hills rise giants; giants of white stones, with bells for heads. Dust billows from them as they slowy get up, the air filled with a loud grinding sound made by their limbs moving.

I'm in a competition, something in english I don't remember. I win the big prize, a trip to Venize. It doesn't look like the real deal at all; it's a big, green and lush prairie, with low, soft rolling hills. I walk around a little, listening to the murmuring grass. I spot a old, gnarly tree with a very dark, almost black bark and big off-white flowers. Their petals are thick, fleshy, with a waxy sheen and a very soft, floral smell. I pick a butch of them, the twigs holding them snapping easily. I try to put them into a pan filler with water, but the are so big I can't make them all fit.
After that I'm vsiting a house with a small group of people. It's mostly one long room, with green rottin furniture, fairly used; in place the rottin is faded to a soft, light gray. There's also potted plants clustered here and there, painting touches of colors in the house.

I'm in my front garden, talking with a friend. It's sunny and the grass is almost neon green, the leave of the hedge shining. The breeze is warm, making my dress dances around my legs. As we talk a man in dark clothings come to the open portal and start talking about christianity, going on and on like a drone or a broken record, spewing aged nonsenses and franckly, offensives shit. It's hurting my friend and pissing me off, so I start telling his the more dirty, filthy things I can musters, in all the languages I know. He flees and I turn around to my friend with my biggest smile. She looks rather shocked, and it makes me laugh. I check the mailbox, in case the man put a pamphlet in it, and instead of that I fond a big pot of golden honey and a box of almonds. I shake the bow and the almonds rattle sharply, then I open the pot of honey. It smells wonderfully, it's a wild flowers honey, thick and shiny. I scoop out a handful, letting it flows between my fingers. Then I walk in, bus istead of my house it's my mother's place. The table is full of clean laundry, so I drop the box on the bar, alongside the honey pot.

... Once again I miss the more obvious dream sign ever. *shake first*

Not a lot this time. I remember peeling off huge pieces of the skin of my feet with my nails. The flesh unerneath didn't feel raw, just slightly tender, even if I got thoses big slab off. The skin I got off was tough and dryish, like calluses.

I'm in a field with a middle aged, thin blond woman. The sun is high and ther's just enough wind for the grass to shiver. We start running, going faster and faster. She takes my hand and we start floating about the ground, zipping above the grass at high speed. A large tunnel appears in front of us, the woman with me asking me to slow down. I go faster instead, rising us a little more above the ground so we don't touch the long, low bench in front of the entrance of the tunnel. A blue wall made of pure nergy shimmers in front of us for a split second and we go through, reaching the inside of the tunnel. The woman let go of my hand and we slow down and fall back on the floor. I land on my ass and my head feels floaty from the speed. The woman helps me up and give me a cigarette on a holder, lighting it up for me. I take a puff, feeling the hot smoke going down my throat, coating it with ashes. It taste like breathing in the fumes of firewood, with a hint of spiciness underneath, like four spices roasting.*
I look around in the tunnel. The ceiling is vaulted, and all of it is covered in metal plates, some kind of purplish stainless steel. A man in a labo coat come closer to me, saying that I passed the protection like they weren't there. I understand that I'm some kind of witch, here because of it. I throw away the cigarette and go deeper into the complex. I reach a place that looks like a lab, with gleaming, white ceramic tiles everywhere. There's cars here; very old one. I come closer to one of them; it's bright red, with golden accent. A young man is fussing with it, calling it his baby. It roars to life when I come closer, wiggling like a dog. I pat it while the young man looks at me with a bemused look on his face. I start to walk away, but the car follows me, much to the chagrin of the young man. I give him a smile as an apology and fly off to the surface, climbing out in the same field.

I'm in a sprawling garden, part of a even bigger manor. There are people everywhere; it's a rather posh party, but I'm not sure if it's for a birthday or a wedding. The trees are decorated with red ribbons and lanterns made of glass and forged iron, lighting the paths made of red bricks. The foliages is glossy and shining, the conversation are mutted and I don't know anyone, so I wander around in the garden, getting further and further away from the house. There's a lot of tropical plants around, with big, othersized leafs and exuberant forms tightly contained into flowerbeds with red brick trim. It's getting darker, and I end up finding back the crowd. People are getting seated on cushions in front of a stage carved into a cliff side There's a big red drapes framing the stage, hiding the lightsources and standing out against the dull gray stone. I see my sister in already seated on a cushion, so I go sit next to her, not knowing why everyone is here. We wait as more people get seated, my sister is typing away on her phone and I'm regretting not having mine. People keep arriving and sitting, in a very slow, endless stream. I'm starting to get bored and keep shifting on my cushion, drawing the attention of the man sitting in front of me. He got silvery blond hair falling on his shoulders, and a arrogant smile. He gets up, takes my hand and pulls me on my feet, still smiling. He drags me through the crowd to the left of the stage; there's stairs carved in the rock, going down to a tunnel under the stage. It's almost pitch black in the tunnel, but I can't still see the outline of his silhouette, crowned with those beautiful hairs. He moves his hand to my arm, right over my elbow, holding tight. It makes me feel like running, and he smiles again.

Spoiler for Nope, no running for me:

His fingers dig in my arms and he push me against the wall, his whole body close enough that I can feel him breathes. The wall feels very cold and he's very warm. He slips his knee between my legs and pushes them open, lifting my skirt. I try to grab his wrist and he grab my throat, whispering in my ear that I will behave, then let go of my throat to use his hand to do something more interesting. He's taller that me, enough that I have to stand on my tiptoes, gripping his shoulders to steady myself. My body start to buckles and I have trouble staying silent. He pushes me harder against the wall, breathing in my neck. He brings me to climax and keeps going; it's almost painful.

I stumble out of the tunnel, and the crowd is thining out, people scattering back in the garden. My sister is still here, she gathered more cushions and is laying on top of them, videochatting on a small laptop with a guy I identify as her boyfriend. They are fighting, so I don't stick around. I go back to wandering along the paths, and I meet up with a friend. We walk around a little, and she bring up the fact that I disappeared a little earlier. I tell her why and she don't believe me at all, then point out that she pegged me as more of a car type of girl. It makes me laugh and we reach a sort of round space with carts of colorful, almost cartoony fruits. I pick up a giant mango the size of a beach ball; it's half squashed and my hands get covered in sticky juice. The smell is almost overhelming, and I chuck it in a flowerbed, shaking my hands to get rid of at least part of the juice.

... Well I... Did find the silvery man again? I didn't manage to get lucid but it's something. He's still a jerk