non-lucid

I'm on vacations with my family, the path we're walking on it made to simulate a forest, but it's fake, like an amusement park. We walk between the well integrated attractions, looking around. Other the limits of the fake tree I catch a glimpse of a castle in full gothic architecture, all high spires and graceful arcs, in light gray stones and slab roofs. I décide to try and go there, and my family follow. We push past the fake trees into the remants of a real forest, with moss and ashes everywhere.
On the trail we're following, there's a square tower, with a large wooden door, locked. I easily scale the wall and enter it through a window. It's an house, and I start exploring it. The ground level is a diing room with a dark wood flooring, the furniture old but loved. A rickety staircase, almost a ladder, leads up to a TV room with a large, nest-like sofa taking up most of the room, making it nest-like and confy. On the far wall, there's a opening that lead into a bathroom; I can make out the sink and a tiny bit of shower curtain. I take a ladder to the next level and find another dining room, with armchairs and a big window overlooking the forest. I climb up the wall and end up under the roof in a bedroom; the whole floor is the cushy and confy, and there's a lot of pillows, the whole room in effectively the bed. There are a couple off roof windows, making the room sunny. I try to climb up into the roof itself but it keeps elongating, closing around me and making it difficult to breath and move.

A girl brought a egg in my house. It's bigger that my head with a rough, rocky shell. It's sitting on the kitchen table, in a ray of sunlight, as the girl argue with my sister. They are arguing about the girl character and attitude, my sister fed up with her. I know that this girl is messy and doesn't clean after herself, and is also quite selfish. I tend to agree with what my siter is saying, but want to avoid conflit so I don't join the discution.
As they talk the egg hatches and a slender creature, looking like a mix of a ferret and an serpent with short, pure white fur slithers out of it, using his small clawed paws to scales the walls of the room. It's cute despite its strange way of moving, and I hope my sister doesn't see it and freak out because it remind her of a lizard. The newborn pet doesn't have a very sure footing yet, so it loses its hold and falls on me. I catch it in my arms, its body is very hot and muscled, almost hard. It cuddles to me, pointy muzzle nipping at my neck with a happy, chittering sound. It then jump out of my arms to climbs on the counter. The girl stops arguing with my sister to touch is, and it's fur turn velvety black.

I'm running from some kind of mercenaries, trying to go to university at the same time. I weave my way accross buildings, taking hidden doors and corridors, the mercenaries voices hot on my trail, casual and laughting. I manage to board on a train, half train alf boat, standing up at the prow. There's a woman and her little girl behind me, the girl with pigtails and big blue eyes. She crouches down and pick up a piece or paper stuck to my shoes and excitatly tells her mother that I'm a member of the crew. I feel embarassed and tell her that it's not true, that I picked up the paper somewhere. I let her keep it and she's thrilled. Her mother thanks me and hands me some chocolates. As the train stops, her husband come to picks them up and I leave, still going to university. I meet up with somes of my comrades in a yard, half lawn half cement, and we start a waterballons fight. The sun is hot and the air dry, the water ballons very cold. Another friend calls us from a flat above, waving. We enter the building and go to her place. It's small but very sunny, and now crowned. We manage to all sit in front of her TV for a movie, on two sofa. I'm sitting at one of the end of one of the sofa, with the boyfriend of my cousin and my cousin sitting with me. The boyfriend has very wandering hands and keeps trying to kiss my neck, making me very inconfortable, but my cousin doesn't let me get up. Our phones are stucks together and it's somehow keeping me from leaving. I manage to separate them and get up to sit on the other sofa, next to a tall, brown-haired man. He wraps a arm around my waist and pulls me slightly against him, allowing me to sit confortably. I feel safe with him and snuggle closer.

I'm on a beach under a grey sky. The sea is green and churning, with a lot of thick foam. The sand is grey and rough, packed hard and cold under my feets. There's a heavy wind, the smell of the sea rushing around. There's a woman and a man here, in a hushed argument. Both are brown haired, the woman with a sloppy ponytail and the man with a shaggy cut. The woman is hugging something to her chest and the man is begging, his sweet, open face full of sadness and longing. She steps away from him and drop what she was hugging into the water, kicking it away in the waves. It's a pelt, a grey, shiny seal pelt, and it's melting in the sea, turning into seamfoam under the waves. The man, the selkie, is devastated, torn by the lost. He hugs himself, head low and shoulders hunched. I go to him, touching his arms lightly, try to confort him. He looks up to me, and his soft, milky skin is tanning at an accelerated pace, covering itself with layers unpon layers of heavy freckles, his cheeks reddening like the begining of a sunburn. I touch his jaw, his skin is hot and feverish. He takes my hands in his and his fingers are cold and wet.

The first dream is from yesterday, I was too tired to put it here.

Space opera:
I'm in a gigantic spaceship, watching two men argue violently. One of them is obsviously military, trying to keep the other in rank. The other is some kind of scientist with psionics abilities, and he abrutly end the discution with what amoung to a force-shock, effectivly killing the military man. I run away before he sees me, along a curved corridor with lights embedded in the wall and shining white panels. I reach a vertical shaft cutting the corridor and flight myself upward using some kind of telekinesis, until I find a sas that open into a lab with a lot of people in lab coats, busy working. Some of them have a light halo around their heads, and are in charge of the other. I tug at the sleeves of the worker closer to me and gently levitate them into the sas. One of the man with a halo tells me "I'm not allowed to carry butterflies with me." I understand that butterfly is a slang to designate non-psionics peoples. I grab the railing and keep picking up the butterflies to get them away.


Relativity in time and space.
I'm in a big house, almost a manor, with another woman around my age. We're trying to protect a child from someone, and we have the help of a two men: a young, good-looking one with the face of a cursed poet and slighty curly brown hair, and a taller, more brutish one with a gentle streak. Both of them know of a place in which time is folded on itself, and the door keeps changing place. The poet seems to like me a lot and each time we find the door and get inside he welcomes me with a hug. The child, the woman and me keep changing outfits, matching the place and the time we get in each time the safe haven moves, leaving us behnd.

Not much time for dreams lately, RL is kicking my ass a bit. Here's a dream about horses, because why not?

I'm in a messy house with a lot of clutters and white walls. My mother is bringing something back from somewhere. She parks the care and there's a trailer linked to it. She brought in two horses; a grey one with a spanish built, a lipizzan maybe, with a wavy mane and tail; and a alezan one, with a roughter built, more quarter-horse. The second one is a bit bovine, and do nothing more that grazing a bit. The grey one is something else. As soon as we have him in his pasture, he find a patch of bare dirt and rolls around in it, overing himself with the bright orange soil. I pick up a brush and call him. He trot up to me, head held high, and stop in front of me. I start to brush out the dirt, the sky turning dark but the light not changing. It's a long process but it's not tedious; it's almost meditative, and both the exercise and the body warm of the horse warn off the cold of the night. I lean against it's back to take a breather, tucking my arms under my chin and looking out to the pasture. The smell of horse is strong but pleasant, and his skin is slighting shaking each time my breath touch it, as if it was a fly. I can barely see the other horse; the light around us seem to stop a few paces away.

I'm on the road in front of my house, but it looks different; there's a old tree without any leaves with its branches sweeping low over the road like crochety hands. I climb up along one until I reach the level right about the powers lines and jump into a fly. I loose control and go head over heels, landing in a heap in the middle of a grand library.
It's beautiful. The shelves are carved like gentles waves, and the room is two floors high with a balcony running all around it. The room is lit by gaslights of copper and gold with frosted glass covering the flames, the warm almost buttery light gleaming of the polished wood of the shelves and floors. The glimpses of wall I can see are covered with dark green silk, matching the couch and armchairs placed around. At the far side of the library is a big fireplace, currently lit. The room smells sweet, of old books and beewax. There's an open door on a side, with moonlight peaking in.
I walk to it and step into a covered terrace, all old stones. It opens into a very carefully lanscaped garden under a very bright, very big full moon. At the center of it there's a table dressed and ready, with crystal glasses, vermeil cutlery and candelabra. There are people already seated, dressed in finery of all period and fashion, having hushed conversations and eyeing the rest of the small crownd. I don't feel like joining them but come closer to the table to admire the carving on the cutlery. The guests whisper amoung themselves, making a point of not looking at me. I'm a little annoyed and start to walk around the table to go to the other side of the terrace, so I can access the garden. As I'm going I catch a glimpse of blond hair and turn my head; the silvery man is here, very smartly dressed, his hair brushed to fall on one of his shoulder while letting the line of his jaw free of distraction on the other side. It's slighty distracting, and he knows it. Noticing my presence, he change his course and come to me, easily taking my arm and pulling me to the end of the terrace, inside a small, narrow alley I didn't see earlier. There's ivy on the wall, up to a small alvove with what seem to be an old pedestal on the ground. He pulls me in, leaning against the wall with a impish smile. I cross my arms in front of me, too amused to be annoyed... and wake up.

It was a very interesting night, as in it was almost stereotypical of my sleeping pattern. I woke up the first time after three hours of sleep, felt back asleep for one hour and a half, woke up with a dream, felt back asleep for one hour, woke up with another, more vivid dream. I would probably could have induced a lucid if I didn't have to get up for uni.

Dream one: I'm with my sister in a beast of a car, more of a SUV really, with heavily tinted windows. My sister is the one driving, and she has a rather sportive approach to it. It's sunny outside, and it's pretty warm inside the car. The trafic we're in is pretty heavy, and she's trying to go into a parking lot on a hill, that looks like the one of my older university. It has the same tree that shadows the grass just enough for flowers to bloom. My sister pulls up next to another black, enourmous car. I take a quick look to the other car and notice that the driver is still sitting in it. I recognize the hadsome man I've see before and get out of the car to softly rap on his side window. My sister is annoyed at me but he looks up and smiles. I walk a little away so he can get out of his car as my sister starts going up the hill. We go behind her in a friendly silence.

Dream two: I'm in a house with other girls. It's more of a wooden cabin, with wooden furniture and a gigantic, open chimney, with a roaring fire and a roasting apparatus. Looking out from the windows I can see snow, and open fence, and the fiery orange of dusk. We're trapped in. There's spiders crawling on the walls, big, shiny, sickly things glittering in the fire light. There's a big oak table in front of the fire, with a empty metal plate and a big carving knife waiting. The corner of the room are shadowing, but not enough to hide the bones laying there.
I suddently understand that I'm in a witch hunt. And she's hungry.
A tall, hunched over hag enters the cabin. She's not much taller than me, but here proportion are off somehow, with longs, gnarly arms and a big hunch. She's wrapped in dirty rags and a long dress, her skin looks like bark and her hair like white lichen. All the girls cower and try to hide from the witch. I see her grab her knife and a girl's arm. She starts to drag her to the fire, but the girl struggles and manage to escape the hag graps for a second. It throws the witch off balance, and I jump in to push her into the fire. She let out a shrill scream as the flames engulfe her, her skin blistering and smoking.

There was this man, fitted in a old-fashioned tuxedo, with a very white face, white gloves, and slicked back black hair. The lower half of his body is a giant spider, the chitin as slick and shiny as the silk of his waistcoat.
He's on a hardwood scene, under a very bright spotlight that glitter off the joints of his spinnery legs. He's dancing, his four eyes closed as he listens to music I can't hear. It's eerie, graceful, the tips of his legs ticking on the wooden floor like rain on a roof.

I'm in a group, a ragtag bunch of misfits; All of them can shapeshift into various animals. We're squatting a old cinema, but a shadowing, bad organisation attack. We flee on the roof, a wonderful creation of braided green glass, very instable but lovely. We climb down and jump in a car, driving away at top speed. We go through a snowy, very picturesque lanscape. I can't really enjoy it, as I'm the one driving. We reach a industrial dictrict and try to hide in a warehouse, but we're tracked down by a snake woman, tall and covered in golden, shimering scales. Only part of the group manage to flee, and we hole up in the back of a warehouse. A man enters, small in stature, wearing glasses, balding with a small, neat beard. He carries wih him a incredebly heavy atmosphere of dread and evil, and we cower, unable to stand up against him, until one of us, a shy bird shifter, suddnetly snaps and grab a piece of lumber, clubbing the man to get him to flee. He tells him, "do you think you can conquer us, bitch?!" while wailing on him. The evil man flees, vowing to return.

I'm in a house. It's vry modern, with white walls and honey colored wood flooring, shining. I'm standing at the foot of the staircase, and I can see outside from a long, low window that goes all the way across the wall. to my right there's an open kitchen, in grey, slightly textured resin and shiny chrome, with a black marble counter top and thin, spinnery furniture made out of a gray, dull metal. The kitchen open in the living room, but I can only see part of it; it seem that the house is shaped like an L around a garden. I can make out the corner of a table with a frosted glass top, and part of a white woolly rug. Light is everywhere, spot cleverly hidden along the walls, sun coming from the widows in the wall and in the roof. I need to get out, but Where there should be a front door, the wall is whole. I turn around and start climbing the stairs. There are slowing curling on themself, and lined with potted plants. The ceiling is getting lower and lower, and there's no wall on my left, until I reach the top of the stairs. There's a lot of potted plants here, in the bring sun, and the stairs end in a sort of floorless gazebo.

I can climb out of it, and after a short walk on a wooden beam, I enter an attic with greenhouse walls and a low wooden bench running along them. There's someone here, laying down under a nest of blankets. It's warm but no stuffy in the attic, and the sun and shadows are ideal, making it incredibly relaxing. I tiptoes in, trying no to disturb the sleeper, but he slowly raise on his elbows. He's slim and dark haired, and looks almost cartoony sleepy. I get closer and he shapeshifts, his hair lightening to a silvery blond, his bland face filling with intent. He moves, getting the shadows on his face. I recognize him and stop just shy of reaching the nest of blankets. He smiles and sit up, letting the blankets falls off his laps and showing me that he's naked underneath.

Spoiler for more nudity after the cut...:

And more and more happy to see me. The whole situation makes me laugh and his smile gets larger and larger, like the Chester Cat. I never saw his penis before, and I'm suprised that he's uncut. as I think it the foreskin disappears. As he's longing here, barely moving and smiling, he make me think of a big cat, relaxed and sated, at least for now. I get a little closer to him and sit on the blankets, slightly weirded out but more or less trusting him not to jump me. He stretchs out and take my hand to warp it around his shaft. I pull away, staring at him with disbelief. He laughs, completly silent, and runs his hand on my arms as if to soothes me. I roll my eyes and he suddently grabs me, pulling me in so I'm sitting in his lap. His skin is colder that the room, but not by much; I can feel his sex under my clothes. I push away as he switches his hold from my waist to my wrists and I'm sitting on his thighs. He's still smiling and tilts his head to the side, obviously questioning my reaction. I stop struggling and let him pulls me closer again. I put my hands on his shoulders and he looks almost wondering. After a couple of seconds his face turn predatory, with a strange, playful edge, and his hold my waist with one arm before slipping the other under my dress, pulling my panties aside and helping himself inside me. It's very intense but not overhelming, and after a few seconds it's almost confortable, mostly because neiher of us is moving. He settles himself back on the blankets without letting go my waist, and when I start to thnk I will simply get up and leave, he uses his hand to get me off until overstimulation hits me and I struggle away from him, flailing and unable to stand up. He's laughing again, and I can see my own wetness on his still erect penis. He can't help himself it seem.

But in a way, I get it. He's like a green man, a embodiment of sexual energy. I could call him Eros, but I think I can go without gining him a name; he doesn't need one.

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 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.