Mzzkc's Mind Games

14.11.2010

Legion (WILD)

★★★★★

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

I barely notice the transition.

An RC confirms what I already know as I pick myself up, out of bed. I'm home, in my dark, cluttered room, which is odd because I know I'm really at school, in my just as cluttered dorm. Heading downstairs, I hear the sizzling of a frying pan, signaling someone is making breakfast.

“Looks who's up!” My father bellows playfully. “Have some breakfast!”

“I can't, there's a blanket covering my mouth,” I state as I spot the scrambled eggs, steak, and sausages, on the counter.

“You make no sense,” he mutters.

“I know,” I say, smiling back, not wanting to tell him he'd cease to exist upon my waking.

“Well at least help me with these candles—have you seen these? They're so cool!” He takes a lighter to a paper-covered candle in a glass jar. It immediately lights, pouring flame out the opening at the top.

“That's not gonna work,” I say, coldly snuffing the fire out with my mind before it really has a chance to get started.

“Huh, that's weird,” he says, trying to get the thing to light again. Feeling bad, I tell him to try again, this time using my power to bring the flame to life. “Thanks!” he said, “JTF can do this too, you know.”

That's because he a dreamer, like me. I think, walking back to the front door. Waving good bye, I step onto my porch into the waning twilight.

“Holy fuck.”

Before me, facing me, stands a legion, hundreds upon thousands, of small, black, spiky, shadow gremlins, flickering and growing with the shifting light. The shock of it all takes its toll and my vision starts to waver, the dream falling apart. . .

With a concentrated burst of sustained will, I thrust my attention toward the world around me, into every monster, every blade of grass, every dark fluffy cloud in the pale grey sky. I've stabilized, and I'm ready to defend my house, my court, myself.

I run at the creatures, launching myself up and over the lot of them, high in the air. A lone guitar plays an energizing solo as I tear my Katana from its place at my side, and swipe downward forcefully, shouting in raspy voice: “Getsuga Tenshou!” A bright flash erupts from my blade as a huge cyclical blast of blue energy pierces the sky below me, exploding into the legion of shadows, instantly vaporizing a chunk of them and the earth below their feet.

Another swipe fires out a second wave, smaller this time, not quite as devastating, but still very effective. At this point, I figure I've used up my reserves, so I switch it up, still arcing through the air, out of reach. Thrusting at the air in front of me, I start a volley of attacks, each faster than the last, until finally my blade glows hot white. I yell as my thrusts turn into a powerful beam of light that I direct at the ground, wiping out everything I pass it over. I sustain it for the remainder of my fall, dissolving countless creeps. Their numbers less than half, I drop to the ground.

“Bankai!”

A huge burst of energy flies out of me as I skillfully direct it into my blade, encasing it in blue, vibrating, serrated energy, so thick and violent the air around me buzzes audibly with its force. Without hesitation, the shadows attack. I can barely keep them off me, as I slash and cut through their numbers, my blade evaporating them with a mere touch. But each attack I make is more awkward than the last, for my opponents are all one foot tall.

There's too many, I think, jumping away, retreating. Maybe a Resurrection form will give me the tools I need to beat these guys. . . .

No, let them come. They can't hurt me; I'm not afraid.

So I stand there as they swarm me, taking me to the ground, entering my body, carrying me off, slowly down the street. I observe it all, in full control of everything, yet opting to endure the bubbling sensation at my core, the bulging of my skin and clothes, as I'm taken from my court by the few that can't fit inside me. They all look like small black balls of ash as they vainly attempt to bring me down, into a small pipe, leading only to darkness. . .

07.11.2010

Enter Jim (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

I can do this. Running toward the red metal banister lining the platform between step, I make to jump over it, but screech to a halt in hesitation, fear. I can fly to the top. I know I can. Peering over the edge I see there are several flights of stairs above me and a seemingly endless drop below.

This is a dream, right. . ?

Right.

I leap off the edge, soaring out in a wide arc before falling, down, to a certain death. A burst of denial keeps me airborne, and I shoot up to the very top of this brightly lit, overly windowed building. A school, I think. There's a railed ledge at the top, spanning out over everything below, casting a thin shadow as it greedily eats up the hot light from the sun above. People—friends—look at me strangely, but I could care less. I'm gonna have some fun with this one.

Up and out, I climb, bursting through the glass ceiling only to find the building is alone, on a grey, mossy rock, in a void of white of nothing. Within moments of my discovery, scenery starts to form around the building. High snow-covered cliffs, white fluffy clouds, rushing rapids pouring over rough rocks, and a huge cerulean lake surrounding the school, snap into existence right before my eyes. Screw goals, screw DGs, screw deeper meaning, I'm free as a bird and I feel like spreading my wings.

Soaring across the landscape, I twist and dive about, skirting the top of the rapids, picking up speed. The exhilarating freedom of flight overwhelms my senses, and on a whim I decide I want to try and see Raven. Flying headfirst across the ground, I put my arms out in front of me and tear at the fabric of space and time, sending my world into blackness. . . .

A figure forms in my vision, blurry, indistinct. I wonder who, or what, it could be as I fly through the nether. Within seconds, new landscape begins coming into focus, slowly and in bursts, like the initial load of a large video game map. The figure becomes more defined; it's a boy, a young man around my age with deep brown hair and piercing eyes. I follow him as he jumps into a small clear-water pond. Treading in the water as I float above, he mouths something, but I can't hear him; all I get is a ethereal sense he's trying to communicate. Flustered, he tries again, and this time an echoing, almost synthesized, phrase escapes his lips: “Are you alive?”

Now it's my turn to be flustered: “Of course I am.” He grins at me before taking off, running further up into this new, colorful, mountainous, landscape. I keep up as best I can, until we come to the opening *large pipe built into the rocks. A waterslide.

“Prove it!” The boy leaps into the pipe and is swallowed by the dark. Dropping to the ground, I approach the pipe, and with only minor hesitation leap into it. Gravity takes over as my body falls through the twists and turns of the slide and its cold rushing water.. I let out a yell, to show my liveliness to this boy, but I feel silly. Suddenly, I stop, dead in my tracks.

Odd.

The plastic tube stuck firm against my exposed back, I try to restart my descent. With some luck, it works and the ride continues, but it doesn't last long. I'm trapped again, and this time I'm not getting out by traditional means. I spend the next few minutes traversing the piping, climbing strange obstacles, with no end in sight. At the rate I'm going, I'll never see the daylight again. But with some effort on my part, the next bend takes me into the light, onto a grassy ledge, where a figure stands, overlooking a vast rocky expanse. It's the boy from before, but he's not a boy anymore, he's an adult, and there he stands with the poise you'd expect of a politician or military leader.

I approach him, and our conversation begins. His name is Jim, and he's here to teach me. He says he'll be stalking me ferociously over the next few nights, tracking me, watching me. Furthermore, he wants to know what kind of car I typically drive.

“What kind of car I drive?”

“Yes, it's important we supply you with cars you're familiar with.”

“Erm, I typically don't do much driving in dreams.” I can't help thinking this conversation is getting weird. What do cars have to do with anything. . . ?

To be continued. . . . Maybe. . . .

26.10.2010

Dirty Deeds (DILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

I'm awake. Or, at least, I feel awake. In the sense that I'm completely aware of my body, lying beneath these two thin sheets of soft fabric, dark room closing in around me as I start to drift.

It's a dream.

But I'm awake. . . I think.

My mind has a different idea as a hallucination—no—a dream, forms around me. Lowering onto the dock, directed by a crane as it teeters about, is a large shipping crate. Inside, dozens of harrowed, dissolute, half naked women sit, defeated, resigned to their fate. All of them are products to be bought and sold in a perverted underground market. Raven Knight and I don't quite
like that idea.

There's another crate, already on the ground; this one is filled with men and children, chained at the wrists. I notice they're being processed by a good number of goons. “Let's get to work then, shall we?”
Raven looks at me, almost surprised by my presence.

“Sure,” she nods quietly, witchblade already formed into a long ornate, claymore.

In a flash, I cover the ground between me and the first goon, tearing my white blade from its place at my side, slashing through his chest as I move past him, into the throng. He falls as I thrust, rip out, severing my next victim's head from his shoulders. Another flash and I begin a barrage of quick strikes, whirling slashes, cutting into my foe like a tender slab of meat. In under three seconds, I had already downed five of these despicable excuses for human beings. I'm getting ahead of myself, I think as I notice Raven watching me from where we stood moment ago. “You can take care of the rest, Raven. I'm gonna work on freeing these people.”

Tending to the men and children, I see Raven out of the corner of my eye just as a spiky tendril fires out of her witchblade, impaling one of the runners. Refocusing, I find the thick rusted chains binding these drugged victims aren't cutting as well or fast as I'd like. So, I conjure up some bolt cutters and get to work. Darting between the shambling bodies, I cut chain after chain, before finally handing it to one of the few men who seem to be in control of all his functions.

As he worked, I extend a bubble of green healing light around the entire group. It's just enough to break the stupor of the group, bringing them to their senses. Very soon, Raven is finished with her work, and joins me as everything slips away and I lose all visuals. . .

24.10.2010

Networks (Non-lucid)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Stretched out against a vast, black aether, they weave and twist about, branching down into unfathomable depths. At the head, a name for each: Walms, Naiya, Raven, and so many more. Delving down, I explore their reaches. The expanse below Walms' is the largest by far, and twines itself about the others more and more the deeper I go. Naiya's is closest to Walms', their trees the largest, while Raven's name is drifting, slowly pulling away from the others.

The scene shifts into a game of conquest, and here I find MoSh, willingly under the control of a female presence I never get to see. She guides him well; his troop placements are precise, his movements coordinated. I find myself under pressure. . .

______________

The dark conference room, with its expensive wooden tables and high-backed chairs lined up against the walls, is deserted. Making my way to a table across the room, the other High Aide walks in, aghast.

“They're not here,” she sounds frustrated.

“No. It's not like Congress to be here in a time of crisis. I expect they're safe somewhere, probably out of country.”

“Point taken, but that still leaves us. The enemy is descending upon us, as you well know, but what are we supposed to do about it?”

“Keep things under control,” I pick up a pink slip of paper with several ornate signatures scrawled across it. “A standing order,” I tell my coworker.

“What does it say?” the other Aide asks quietly.

“We have to evacuate.”

“Then let's get out of here. . .”

We walk through the white-walled building, all the way to the heavily populated atrium. A commotion erupts upon our arrival, and I drop the book I wasn't carrying moments ago. Stepping on it, I notice there's something under it. . . is that?

“NOBODY MOVE!” A man in a black leather jacket and slacks steps out in front of me, back turned, left arm locked around a secretary, right hand handed aiming a gun at her head. Just like the one beneath my book. I scoot backwards, dragging the book and gun underfoot, taken aback by the occurrence. Why would terrorists be attacking the House at a time like this. No one is here, except us two. Slightly dumbfounded, and fearing for my own safety, it takes me a moment to realize the man doesn't know I'm behind him.

Reaching down, I grab the gun; it's an old five shot revolver, I'm not really sure on the make. I point the weapon at the man's back and move slowly, silently forward. Putting up my other hand to steady the shot. . .

BANG!

A hole appears in the back of his jacket, followed by blood. He slumps to the ground, dead, but he's not alone. His accomplice comes at me from the left, swiftly. I try to aim the gun at him, but my hands are shaking too violently. A shot rings out, and a bullet wizzes by my head, tousling my hair. I fire wildly, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG. Each shot either goes wide or spirals out of control, missing the mark. The accomplice fires back at me four times. One miss, two miss, three miss. . .

THMP.

The bullet rips through my chest and my mouth opens in shock, spitting up blood. I stagger for a moment before my eyes go wild and I look at my killer with a maniacal glint. I let him know, “I can regen, mother fucker!” I charge him, quickly regenerating the wound in my chest, pushing out the hot lead. Pointing my empty gun at him, I demand his weapon. He hands it to me, terrified; it's got one shot left. I put it against his head, and he whimpers like a puppy. As I pull the trigger, I grimace as. . . the shot bounces off his skull?

The anticlimactic ending stifles my rage, and the two of us have a chat. “You know the only people of any importance here right now are the High Aides, right?” I ask him.

“Oh, really. . ? Well, we should have figured as much with Rob moving in on Cambodia [Kaomea?] in the west.”

“Yeah, I still have to let the Adamarill know.”

“Admiral?”

“That's what I said.”

Another shift and I'm streaming a video of Galactica's CIC. Starbuck let's Adama know the current situation, and I can't help noticing the HAL eye at the bottom of the screen. I remember that signifies this is one of my Dream Journal Entry. Wait a second. . .

My phone rings.

23.10.2010

Familiar Places (DEILD)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID







It's 1:30PM. I make a mental note of it before I start my session.

WILD: Misfire

★★★☆☆

A WILD puts me back in my house, though I'm far from home. Outside, several people are partaking in odd sporting activities. A young girl, for instance, is trying to playful blast her older brother with a Kamehameha. Attempting to intercept her translucent beam with my own, fiery and blue, I screw up and partially fry her head. Everybody goes back inside as things suddenly get very dark. . .

DEILD: Creeper Teacher

★★★☆☆

After waking, a DEILD tosses me into my room, and I'm confronted with an overbearing teacher at the foot of my bed, telling me what I can and can't do. Turns out she's a demon that wants to drag me to hell. I show her what's what, making use of my Katana and Super Strength, tying her in literal knots. After lugging her downstairs, in an effort to take her into the hot infernos, I wake.

DEILD: Threads

★★★☆☆

Another DEILD and I'm by my front door. I just lie there, surprised by my fortune, but something disrupts my zen moment as me and my dog, who was nuzzling me, get violently dragged across the floor. For some reason, there's a network of criss crossing strings scattered about my house, leading out the front door, where anyone can pull them. I cut the threads at their source, making note of the birthday decorations around my house's glass outer-door. It's still dark outside, so I venture into my court, touching our flag as I do. Without warning, a dark red, tricked-out car tries to run me over, but I jump on the roof and hitch a ride.

Bored with the scene, still on the car, I start up a long range teleport and am soon thrust into a CoH club-like setting wherein I'm standing on a table, just like in the game. Reorienting myself, I discover this is a pumpkin smashing event a friend of mine is running. Not that interested, I leave, exiting into a dorm hallway. From there, I find Raven's room (because she obviously lives in this dorm), but it's occupied by a group of people playing Madden or some other football game, and I get escorted out by a half naked Aunt.

Making my way through the building, looking for a good design on a wall or pillar to facilitate a portal, I come across my family who is on a tour of the area. Deciding to join them, we quickly end up in a place where a bunch of old Sci-Fi memorabilia is being showcased. William Shatner is there, too, and so is a “Time Machine” I could probably use to port out of there. I convince him to give us a test run of the contraption, but things go horribly, horribly wrong and Shatner is soon sprawled on the ground with several limbs missing. . .

DEILD: Second Life

★☆☆☆☆

Shatner is still here, along with C3PO, both limbless, comforting each other before their inevitable demise, as a group of “fans” looks on in awe. Reluctantly taking matters into my own hands, I heal them both with green energy, from said hands. Shatner is so overjoyed by my act of kindness that he takes me on a romp through the resort to a table where hundreds of sweets and pastries are laid out for my consumption. I spend the rest of the dream shoving as many delightful snacks into my mouth as I can muster.

DEILD: Sharks? I'll Pass, Thanks

★★★☆☆

The next one takes me into the back of some kinda Pizza Hut style restaurant. I break the large glass windows lining the walls to get outside, and quickly run into a blue haired girl that interests me. She's trying to avoid me, but I keep up with her using various travel powers. Noticing my abilities, as we walk along a busy boardwalk, she strikes up a conversation which is rudely interrupted by two heavy-set brothers. They have a bone to pick with me.

I try not to fight them, I really do, but when they start to pick me up, in order to throw me into the shark infested water, I protest, utterly decimating them with my fists and feet. The final blows, which send them spiraling into the air, I follow with a large energy blast to make sure they won't bother us again. They don't, but neither do I get much time to chat with the girl. . .

DEILD: Pocket Sized Adventures

★★☆☆☆

Pizza Hut again. Grabbing some grease laden pizza on my way out, I realize I'm in the same environment as last time. Maybe that girl is still hanging around. Exploring the green, partially industrialized, area, I eventually come across a different girl, much younger than the first, who wonders why I don't have a Pokemon adventure with my lucids. Letting her know I think it's an excellent idea, I toss out a Squirtle, my very first Pokemon.

I contemplate doing everything from Squirtle's perspective, as I switch between his and mine, but decide against it. One of the girl's friends comes over and shows us her Fearow, which she uses to fly us all to a town hidden amongst the trees, of which I can't recall the name. Not that it matters; I wake up before we can land.

Rubbing my temples, I look at the clock: 2:58PM.

I need food. . .

I decided to journal today after all. ^.^

22.10.2010

War Games (Non-lucid)

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID







Dream: Lone Warrior

★★☆☆☆

Romping through MM, I notice a thread devoted to a site-wide forum game. It's a risk-esque game of sorts, where players build armies based on their dream lives and then battle each other for territory. I'm amused by the fact Walms doesn't have an army, but still has stats rivaling some of the better players. On a trip to the mall, I keep myself updated on the happenings of the game, and eventually join in the fun.

Dream: Civ Dev

★★★☆☆

Once again, I'm in MTB's apartment. This time, however, we're alone. Letting myself into his room, I discover he's working on an RTS game based on the board game a friend of mine had helped put together for one of his classes. The design is simple enough. Each player starts with a single town on a gridded map and takes turns working toward conquering the opposing player's town through economic or military might. Very Civ. He's starts up a test game and walks me through what he's doing. Very quickly, he builds up a formidable city while the computer player lags behind. Secretly, I make a note that the AI needs work.

As the game progresses, MTB is clearly winning, and I'm starting to better understand the game's dynamics. In a few turns, it's clear the AI is trying for an assault. I suggest MTB make use of his navy to take out the nearest enemy regiment. But my suggestion proves fatal, as the AI had been spending all its resources making ridiculously powerful infantry which quickly wipes out MTB's fleet. Meanwhile a southern contingent literally walks into MTB's city, takes the town center, and wins the game. Maybe the AI is better at this than I thought. MTB is not amused.

Dream: Alpha Meat

★★★☆☆

We're in agreement, CTB and I. On principle, all Zeds should attack people carrying Alpha Troopers on sight. So here I find myself, thirty minutes before safe-hour, outside the dining hall, with an Alpha Trooper. I know CTB is mocking me from his room as I stride carelessly about, girlfriend in tow. The first zombie that spots me seems dejected, and just stands there as I take my shot. Soft, orange foam from my bright yellow toy spurts out the muzzle and flies awkwardly to the left, wide of my target. Always prepared for misses, I pull back on the pump-action grip to prime the blaster, but then unthinkable happens.

I screw up; my hand flies wildly off the smooth plastic grip, leaving the blaster in a half-primed limbo. My foe is as surprised as I am, but is smart enough to lunge at me. Just like that, I'm dead. But I shouldn't be. That should never have happened. Defiantly, I reverse time, back to the point where I first encountered the Zed. Things play out differently this time, and I unload two quick, successive shots into his chest using slam-fire. Looking behind me, I spot another Zed and do the same to him. All in all, I stun five zombies before making my way into the D-Hall; my girlfriend got one, too. She had run up to the last Zed in the area and pressed her NF into his chest, pulling the trigger, putting him out of the game for fifteen minutes.

Once inside, I swipe in and grab myself a large chocolate chip cookie, taking a seat next to some other HvZers I don't really know. One of them has their Alpha Trooper opened up on the table. Taking a look, I notice how hefty the spring is. Clearly modified. He closes it up in due time, well before the mission, and I get to see what he's done to the shell. The most prominent feature is a six-inch bowie knife on the top that seems to be a little loose, attached partially by rubber bands. He could seriously hurt someone with that. . .

SPECIAL EDITION

Most of you probably didn't notice the removal of one of my five star entries recently. I took it down because I was using it as a base for a school project. Today, I present the result of that project in Dream Journal Format. Enjoy.

10.08.2010

The Way The World Ends: Special Edition (Non-lucid)

★★★★★

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Thoughts, silently drifting atop an ocean of blackness, play in my mind. Flashing images, darting under supple waves of nothing, form together to create new and exciting visions. Drifting slowly toward sleep, the onset of a dream is upon me. The shift into the dream-state is sudden, yet subtle. . . .

Everyone gets a test. Crap, I whisper inwardly. The answers were just on the board, but my recall is hazy, murky. I struggle, fighting through my memories like one would against a powerful current, but—realization strikes me abruptly. With great haste, I record my revelation.

“Soul: The agent that binds humanity together.”
“Biology: The genetic force that drives humans apart. Often incites violent conflicts.”

I ponder, deeply, the implications of these definitions, likening soul to an archaic ideal and biology—difference, technology—to humankind’s present outlook. In today’s world, with its holographic displays and galaxy-wide communication, hardly anyone believes in the existence of a soul. Clearly, technology has ascended to fill our need to connect with one another, making souls obsolete. And yet, something is missing, something one can’t get from behind a dim glowing screen. Without this crucial piece, our physiological differences rise to the surface, and we begin to look upon those unlike ourselves with disdain and contempt. Even the best of us fall prey to this reality.

The proof is here in this classroom full of geniuses. Each of us, raised in a world of cold circuitry and wire, place ourselves above this guest-lecturer who had the nerve to test us. More than that, none of us, save myself, are afraid to show it. One student in particular vocalizes the intellectual disparity between the professor and her students using several colorful metaphors, and I can’t help agreeing with him.

Without warning, the dream changes. Our test is over, and my class is headed back to Earth, yet no one celebrates our return. A sea of nuclear warheads is descending upon us, dropping through the same atmosphere we are. This is it: the end of everything. My peers look at me; their dark, motionless eyes stare blankly. All hope has left them.

I extend a shield of energy around those close to me as the nukes hit ground. Fallout descends upon us, drowning the air in a blood-red hue, buffeting my shield, heating it beyond the realms of human survival. The world outside my bubble is dead, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I think I failed the test.

16.10.2010

Tales From a Survivor (DILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

The undead are everywhere in this hell-forsaken, urban town. Myself, and three other survivors have managed to snag ourselves an old red Cadillac and are on our way to wherever we can find refuge. Of course, there's only one problem: the car is a stick, and none of us know how to work the damn thing. I volunteer to drive, since I understand the basic concept, and manage to get us moving after some work with the clutch. Unfortunately, I have no feel for shifting gears so every mistimed swerve around the frequent masses of rotting, staggering, corpses dotting our path slows us down considerably. And when you're surrounded by these monsters, the last thing you want to do is slow down.

______________

The four of us are in a dank sewer system, with another group of survivors, but the green, waist-deep, muk surrounding us is the least of our problems. Cornered, without a clearly defined means of escape, there's a school of zombie piranhas hot on our tail. It's like something out of a dream.

“This is your dream, after all. . .”

Says the small girl at my side as I become wholly aware of my situation. This is a dream all right, but I still want to get the hell out of here. Running out from under the large, boat-sized pipe above us, I jump up and pull down on the huge, mildew-covered cart that looks like it belongs on an ancient, over-sized amusement park ride. Motioning for everyone to climb their way out, I begin the journey myself. Halfway up, the cart buckles under our weight, sending me crashing down to the lower seats.

Great. Now I'm going to be savagely ripped apart and devoured by a bunch of undead fish!

It isn't pleasant.

______________

“What are you doing?”

“Making macaroni pictures for the dead.”

“Right,” I state, ignoring the clearly-oblivious, craft-obsessed people in the room. The whole scene is quite absurd really. Sure, this might be the last haven on Earth, but is this really the best my mind can up with after that whole tunnel fiasco? The computers in the corner of this modern, windowed atrium-turned-art-room catch my eye. Once there, I find a worn, yellowed note tucked under one of the keyboards.

“Arts and Crafts
1600 hours
We'll be there.”

Clearly, this is an extraction notice, meaning this area isn't going to be safe for much longer. I guess this explains the whole arts and crafts thing, then. I toss the note aside, and approach the tall double doors at the front of the room.

That's when the nightmare begins.

A demented, ethereal voice hisses through the room as the florescent lights around me dim and flicker menacingly. The voice continues its bone chilling speech, piercing not only my ears, but my mind. They're here.

Stepping away from the door, I locate my group, who're already moving back into the building, away from this madness. As I run to catch up, the tall glass window to my right shatters suddenly, and the stuff of nightmares, the source of the voice, falls through, blocking my path. It's all skin and sinew, with matted black hair on its misplaced, feminine head. Its arms and legs, if you can even call them that, are unnaturally long and bent at disturbing angles. To my relief, it doesn't seem to notice me, and moves sickeningly away, towards the screaming, as more glass shatters around the room, spilling forth the beast's tentacle-mouthed minions. I walk past it, but make the mistake of giving it one last glance.

Before I know it, it's on top of me, trying to splay my body into bits. Sighing internally, I grab the snarling head, and twist its neck, hard, fast. I'm met with resistance, but it's not enough to save the wretch.

______________

Turns out the escort was real, and here we are now, riding a Scorpion Tank through a literal sea of undead. I'm designated driver, once again, and sure enough: Tank. Beats. Everything. For fun, I blast holes in the ocean of bodies, sending bits of flesh flying into the cold, red, night air. The zombies fill out their ranks faster than I can take them out, but it doesn't matter to me. I'm driving a fucking tank during the zombie apocalypse for crying out loud. It doesn't get much better than that.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

1.10.2010

All in an Afternoon Nap (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

I evaded the Empire, joined the circus, and killed the source of all my fear; bits of black, rancid food, soaked in bile, showered down my body as I rent the thing in two.

Updating my DJ is annoying because I hardly ever use Windows anymore.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

28.09.2010

Can't You See I'm Busy Here? (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

After a bloody debacle involving a back-room-human-body-slaughter-shop mall worker and his henchmen (most of whom end up with missing limbs), I construct a thin round tower reaching into the heavens, wherein I host a DBZ-style tournament; the top of the tower is complete with a huge central arena and luxurious living quarters for every combatant and their guests.

29.09.2010

Septemeber Basic ToTM Completion (DILD)

★★☆☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Two people of questionable intent and origin accosted me after I went lucid. Here to ensure I kept my end of the bargain (which I made in my last lucid with some dude while everything was destabilizing), they began their tests. For my first "lesson," they escorted me to an elevator, and the woman stepped inside. Then they took my body away.

Left with nothing but a single perspective and my consciousness, my first task was to maneuver my way in front of the elevator with no legs, no feet, no physical self whatsoever. Great. Using miniature jumps in perspective, similar to teleportation, I was eventually able to work my way into position. The woman inside smiled as the elevator doors closed in front of me. Erm, I thought, as I easily opened them with a burst of will, wiping the smile from her face. My body was returned to me.

With all of us now inside, the man in their pair informed me my next test will be one on movement. As the elevator rose up, my sense of gravity in relation to the floor started gyrating. It threw me off balance for a moment, but I quickly positioned myself in the center of the elevator and began methodically twirling about, adjusting my footing as the spinning continued. The suited pair, standing off in the leftmost rear corner, was not amused. "What?" I state, "This is normal elevator behavior for me."

The elevator doors opened, and we made our way out into some kind of. . . social gathering? Well-dressed adults sat at benches and tables, while equally well-dressed children frolicked about the well-lit skylight room. Sure enough, they had another task lined up for me. . .

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

15.09.2010

I Like What You've Done With the Place (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

I had a pleasant visit to Hell (it felt really homey) wherein I got into a quick spar with Hollow-Controlled Ichigo; it turns out you can chop up your opponent's blade if you swing yours really, really hard.

06.09.2010

I Just Wanted a Drink. . . (DEILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

As I fall asleep, I hold onto the waking world using the annoying pop music blaring through my closed window. Stupid freshman events. . .

A forest. I need to form a forest. . .

Blackness surrounds me as I make the transition.

Green leaves swirl about my vision as I spin and fall into the dream. When everything solidifies, I find myself in a location filled with buildings like the ones you'd find on any college campus. Not enough trees. The tavern and the town are in the middle of the woods. Not satisfied with my surroundings I quickly level most of the buildings around me with a thought, and push the remains underground, replacing the plots with dirt and grass. In a similar fashion, I pull hundreds of trees from beneath the ground to the surface, shooting mounds of dirt high into the air.

Better, I think, This place still needs a river. Still using nothing but the power of my will, I bevel a long stretch of winding earth, snaking it around trees and near the few remaining buildings. As soon as I finish with that, I pull enough water up to create a decent sized river, and set everything in motion. That's good enough for me.

Walking through my creation, I try to recall Nomad's tasks. I can only remember the one about the Hoppy Brains Tavern, so I figure I'll start there. After walking a good distance I come across a very upscale building, with a fancy HB crafted in the open metal gate and metal sign hanging over the door. While my logical self told me this was not the place, something deeper--perhaps my character--was telling me this is where I needed to be.

In front of the door was a female hostess in a simple, white, long-sleeve shirt and black slacks. She stops me, asking if I had made a reservation. I do what my character would do and tell her the truth. Disappointed I wouldn't be getting that drink, I head off the property as the dream starts to collapse around me. . .

DEILD.

Back in the forest I had created, I find myself next to a large lake. Someone behind me gets my attention. Turning, I draw my blade from my side. Sure enough, it's another Shinigami, but his robes, although of traditional make, are white--definitely not standard uniform. He grins broadly, in an almost friendly manner, Zanpaktou in hand. In a flash, we cover the distance between us, crossing blades. My view cuts out, showing the two of us, and the glaring disparity between our uniforms. Sharp metal sparks brightly as the two of us clash. Our movements are so precise and coordinated, that neither of us can get an edge. To the untrained eye, we appear to be equals. . .

Standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the lake, Nomad is chastising me for the fight. He tells me that it's hard to look those we wish to kill in the eyes, "It's better to tear the baby from its mother's arms and immediately throw it off the edge of the cliff than it is to look at its face first." I think back to the fight with the mysterious stranger. I certainly didn't mean to kill him. Our fight, if you can even call it that, was more a friendly hello than anything else. Perhaps this was a person my character knew long ago. He definitely felt familiar. . .

"There are lessons you need to be taught." Nomad states bluntly.

"Who's going to teach me?"

"You'll find out," he says as he strikes me, hard, launching me from the cliff. Dropping through the air, I resist the instinct to fly, and instead prepare for whatever lies beneath the surface.

Crashing into the still waters, I can't help thinking about sharks, so what do I have the pleasure of facing down in this murky water as soon as the bubbles clear? Why, a twenty foot great white of course. Staying cool under pressure, I tear my blade from my side and sever its head from its body in one fell motion. Blood permeates through the water as the dead shark sinks out of sight; I sheathe my sword and rise to the surface.

A short while later, two mermaids approach me, and grab my arms. I don't struggle, assuming they're here to take me to my teacher. We reach the center of the lake, and from the depths, rises King Triton, only about 100 times larger, and with a more monstrous body.

His lesson consists of holding me underwater for long periods of time. I cheat and breathe normally, staying calm the whole time. Afterwards, there's a feast at a rather large, golden, banquet table.

Spock gets moody around a couple of girls, and storms off, leaving them for Captain Kirk to woo. Picard was there, too, but not really doing anything interesting.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

03.09.2010

Every Little Thing. . . (DEILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

A DC informed me the Advanced ToTM was to kill an angel, so I summoned one, placed my hand on his pearly white, robed shoulder, drew my blade, and told him it would be okay as I rent open his chest, slashed through his throat, and drove my katana through his back before finally bringing it out and shoving it into his head; I brought him back to life afterwards, of course.

Edited for improved awesome.

28.08.2010

The Cult (DILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

This looks less than safe.

As I enter the old-tyme, run-down, elevator, I cant help but notice the slanted walls and stain-splattered, dirty yellow upholstery. The door squeaks shut as I randomly hit a floor. I have nowhere to go but up, after all.

My wretched metal tomb lurches as it moves, slowly, upwards into this forsaken hotel. . .

DING!

Hmm. That went better than expected, I muse as I exit the elevator, into the much more luxurious, five-star hotel floor. Walking down the hallways, I pass some strange looking fellows. Very well dressed, but not in any discernible uniform. They greet me kindly, and I return the gesture, rounding the corner into a large meeting room. Ornate pillars dot the perimeter of the area, and off to the left stand numerous folding chairs lined in pew-like rows. Each chair faces forward, toward, a marble altar, complete with curved stairs and huge red and gold-trimmed banners sporting some indistinguishable symbol.

Striding to the chairs, I take a seart. Almost instantly, people begin to stream in and take up seats around me. It becomes clear this is some kind of cult, and they're about to have a mass. I don't belong here. Maybe if I lie low, no one will notice--what am I doing? Standing up, I draw my Katana from my side. The DCs around me gasp and scramble out of the way as I begin my trek out of this ridiculous place.

Two guards block my path out. Not waiting for them to move, I strike them down. . . Or, that's what would have happened if my blade had actually cut. From behind me, "Look at how weak he is. He can't even cut us with his sword."

Like hell, I can't.

I turn quickly and Flash Step to the source of the voice: a colorfully robed man with a golden staff. We fight. My nimble slashes find their way past his rather poor defenses, but each blow I land doesn't even graze him. He begins laughing.

"Bankai!"

Energy bursts out around me and encircles my blade. Swiping downward, I cleave his staff in two. I don't hear any laughter as I shove my Katana through his shoulder. Looking into his eyes, I make sure he understands, 'I'm not done yet.'

"Reverse Bankai, Resurrection!"

My view pops out to third person as light surrounds my body. I feel my sword merge with me, encasing my hands and lower arms, turning them into massive, symmetrical hammers. My grip on the dream wavers. Everything starts to fade away. . .

Oh no you don't.

Utilizing seat of my pants attention manipulation, I'm able to recreate the dream, keeping my new, taller, more muscular form. Unfortunately, I'm no longer in that room. Before me lies a long and perilous staircase, into the heavens. Starting the long climb, towards what I assume is the final battle with the cult leader, three armed men assault me from behind.

My hammers make quick work of their futile attempts to cut me. Two of them I crush outright, while the other survives my initial pound long enough to inform me I've already killed the robed man from before, along with twelve others. This thought sits well with me as I continue my endless climb.