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    Memorable Dreams

    1. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 06-26-2013 at 05:39 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Enough (DILD)

      The waves came in hard, sweeping me off my feet. Swimming against the tide at an angle, I try to regain my footing near the shore, but the unusually steep dropoff made things exceptionally difficult. The best I can manage is to grab hold of my baby sister’s raft and circle my father who hadn’t been phased by the tide.


      I make chase. Through the palace, the ramparts, the temple--merely a game. By the end, I’ve claimed two of the three boars...but I had never been invited to play.


      A crowd had gathered. My father lay upon the throne, sword through his throat, feast laid before him--still alive. Tears hit my cheeks and anger welled from the pit of my stomach. The culprit stood near my dying father, cold, emotionless--I understood why. Falling to my knees at his side, he managed a smile, telling me not to worry, he had been bested and that was that. But I in turn consoled him, pledging vengeance, pledging to finish what he started, assuring him of my abilities.

      And so I turned to the warrior without a name, the warrior who possessed skill enough to slay my father... The challenge I set forth: first to seven hits, or last alive. Solemnly, he agrees, pulling another sword from his side. I grab a pillow sitting beside the throne. In a flash he strikes, slashing high--jugular to hip. I step out, parry with the pillow, and push away. A quick turn precedes his follow-up, but I’ve already trapped the reverse-handed strike, allowing me to parry again and make a hit on his midsection. “Hit,” I clarify, now standing a few paces away, pillow in hand.

      Surprised, he takes a more cautious approach, circling me slowly. “You don’t know what I can do.” I tease, almost mockingly, before teleporting behind him. But he’s ready for it, dodging my feathery attack while launching his own counter. I jump back, putting us both right where we started.

      Dropping the pillow, I broaden my stance and stomp the ground forcefully, tossing up a few small stones into the air. With a few quick jabs, the stones fly towards him; two make contact. “Hit. Hit.” Sensing an opening, he closes in, but I move backwards gracefully, bending water from the earth to deflect his blows. I flick my fingers. “Hit,” and again “Hit,” the water splashes against his face.

      Clearly flustered, he fights water with water, pulling it from the earth as I had done. But I capture it in the air, whipping it around in a gust of wind: “Hit.” And that was that. He walks over to congratulate me on my win, sword still in hand, but then I remember, That was only six. Before he can end it in a single blow, I teleport into a flanking position and strike him with another pebble, sealing my victory and fulfilling my pledge...
    2. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 01-20-2012 at 08:14 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      And now for something completely different. I'll increase production quality in the future. This was just a proof of concept.

      A Real Gem (DILD)

      She looked at me longingly, as I stood from my seat, the crowds still pouring into the stadium around us. Smiling lovingly, I reassure her: ”It’s alright. I’m just leaving to have a bit of fun. These kinds of gigs don’t really appeal to me.”

      Like the dear she is, my girlfriend understands immediately and returns my affectionate smile, ”Go on, then.” Finally, with her blessing I take to the air, gliding up, above the crowds, out to the mountaintop. Rich, sapphire skies and lush, emerald trees rise to greet me as I leave the dark, grey, architecture of the stadium below me. I land in the arena for the previous event, a large, rectangular area paneled with planks of polished cypress and other beautiful grains. Briefly, I think back to the highlighter duel, and it’s laser-tag-like shenanigans, but it doesn’t take me long to start having a different kind of fun.

      Whipping out a deck of old yu-gi-oh cards, I summon myself a Blue Eyes White Dragon, and sure enough, one appears before my eyes in a brilliant flash of swirling light, but this is no hologram. It’s as real as I am, I muse in wonderment, approaching the beast with an outstretched hand. He, Yes, he, accepts my challenge for control and allows me to jump on his back. Without warning, the dragon ploughs forward and leaps off the mountainside, throwing us both into an ever quickening plunge. I hold on for everything I’m worth as the ground below rushes up to greet me. Yet, I have nothing to fear, for the dragon is as controlled as it is deadly. Before the two of us can become a single, red smear on the rock-face, the diamond-eye’d beauty opens it’s jagged, almost crystalline wings. We’re flying.

      What follows is an exhilarating journey, through clouds and rolling plateaus covered in picturesque, jade grass, stone windmills and thatch cottages. It’s all I can do to keep my grip on his smooth, armored back--especially traveling at such speeds--but I manage alright. My reward is the experience of a lifetime: surreal, exhilarating, yet strangely calming. In this moment, I’m at peace with myself and the dreamworld around me.

      Updated 01-20-2012 at 07:00 PM by 25167

      memorable , lucid
    3. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 01-03-2012 at 08:23 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      ¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

      Subtle (DILD)

      Quote Originally Posted by Mzzkc
      As I lounge in the cool waters of a private pool, eyes closed, I hear a familiar voice echo through the dark: ”Don’t freak out, but that’s a shark you’re resting your head on,” she spoke calmly, allowing me to recognize a dream sign as my head rest transformed into a twelve-foot long, brown tiger shark; she offered her hand, and I took it, pulling myself over the shark and out of the pool altogether, ready for whatever she had in store for me.

      Updated 01-03-2012 at 08:39 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    4. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 11-26-2011 at 10:50 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      New Terms (WILD)

      New deal: you continue to protect her, but she gets to go wherever she likes and do whatever she likes. In addition, I’m no longer subservient to you or anybody else, and in return I’ll try my best not to kill you.

      Waking up, in my bed at home, though I know I’m actually on campus. I hear music playing outside. People laughing.

      As I get up, I see her at the foot of the bed, simple, flowing, white dress, knowing eyes, and beautifully styled, brown, shoulder length hair.

      “Mae?” I ask, just to be sure.

      “Of course. Come one, let’s go downstairs.”

      I extend my hand, and she takes it, giving me an anchor to the dream, as we walk down the stairs, out to the deck, into the cool night air. The hearty laughter of my father reaches me, and I know I’m entertaining guests.

      I stop when I sense it. Something isn’t right.

      Mae continues onwards.

      “There’s some people here tonight.”

      “Who?” I ask, suspicously.

      “You’re mother, you’re father, and. . . Hades.” she states it in a hushed tone, as if knowing the distress it would bring me.

      But instead, I grow cold, determined, as I move down, to the lower deck, previously obscured from view by a white, decorated, awning. The hot-tub gone, a long circle of comfortable chairs has replaced it. Mae takes a seat near the god himself, whose blue flaming hair and cartoonish appearance I can’t help smirking at. There are two open chairs, one between Mae and that slime-bag, the other next to my father.

      “Ahh, good to see you. Please come have a seat.”

      Grinning, he motions to the chair next to him. I take a seat next to my father, and make myself comfortable. The grin fades from his face, and the conversation starts to pick up again. I teleport to the chair next to Hades, making the point that I’m very much in control of the situation.

      “Why are you here?” I demand.

      “To make sure you understand the terms of our new agreement.”

      “What? I thought part of that was everything goes back to the way it was and I never have to deal with you again.”

      “No. . . That’s not the case. See, I’m here to remind you that we can still work with one another.”

      I see a few cats in the yard.

      “How’s Kaomea?” I ask casually.

      He goes silent, as I effortlessly summon death and wipe one of the cats from existence. I turn my attention back to him.

      “I take it these aren’t real?”

      “What?” he looks at me like I’m crazy, then realizes I’m talking about the cat, “Yours is the only realm that names those things.”

      “So, no, then?”

      “What do you think?”

      “I wonder what would happen if I did that to you.”

      The dreams starts to waver, and I reach my hand out, placing it over the god’s head, using his blue flaming hair to anchor me in the dream, letting him know exactly where he stands.

      He, and all his lackiess, stand up and start moving back into the house.

      “I think we’ll be going now,” he states, trying to retain his composure.

      The dream is still falling around me; the only one left on the deck besides myself is Mae. She approaches me, when I see someone watching us from the neighbor’s deck, about one-hundred yards away.

      “Who’s that?” I ask Mae, pointing in the direction of the newcomer.

      “Her? I’m not sure.”

      I teleport up to her and Mae is quick to follow.

      “Who are you?”

      She straightens her posture, “Me? Just a princess.”

      “Pfft, yeah, alright. Now, get the hell out of here.”

      “Is there a problem?” She asks snottily.

      Mae interjects, “You. You’re the problem, and I’m tired of your kind oppressing people like him!”

      It looks like the two are about to rip each other apart, so I step in, “Woah, Mae. As much as I’d like to see how you fight, this is my problem, I’ll deal with it.”

      “Fine. . .” Mae moves backward.

      The dream shifts, as the fight ensues. I find myself inexplicably in front of a monitor, the self-proclaimed princess on the other side. Odd, but I don’t care.

      Drawing a blade from my side, I immediately know how useless it will be, so I hurl at her, looking down, finding my true sword just at my feet.

      I draw it and see my foe, through the screen, transformed, grotesque, surrounded by purple energy tendrils in the form of snakes. She lashes one out at me, locking my weapon in place.


      Unphased, I imbue my blade with screaming lightning and instantly cut her tendril.

      Pointing my katana, I try something new, “Chidori Stream,” and jets of razor sharp lightning fire from the tip of my sword as I slash her in half. Then in quarters; then eighths.

      Nearly dead now, in some sort of half-defeated limbo, I try something else on her. Striking with an open palm thrust, I exclaim “Hadoken!”

      A burst of blue energy erupts from my palm, immediately exploding in a blast of smoke and blood, blowing her into oblivion.

      The woman gone, the dream shifts back, and Mae is there, floating at my side. Unmoved by my display of power. . .

      Updated 11-26-2011 at 10:55 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    5. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 11-26-2011 at 10:48 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Initiate (Parts 1 and 2) (DILD)

      There’s so many of us.

      But still plenty of room to fight.

      One at a time, they all have to fall, else I’ll be the one to go down.

      Still, I can’t help enjoying the thrill of battle as I face my first opponent, a looming giant of a man, with sad, soulful eyes and the strength of a monster. With one hand he’s able to catch my true blade and hold it firm even as I charge it with screaming, vibrating, blue energy.

      “I’m impressed. You should be in pieces by now. . .”

      Time moves forward, as do my battles. The refined, razor sharp steel of my pure white, twisted-dragon-hilt katana, reduced to a blunt club against these foes. Tearing down my Vizard mask, with every strike I release a torrent of black energy, tinted red by my gleeful fury. Teleporting in and out, around my final enemy, I brutal beat him down with one wicked slash after another, into the ground, into darkness. *

      It’s over. Three of us are left standing, all of us drenched in blood. I realize we’re the same, though our methods may be different, and it makes me sick.

      “I’m done with this,” I say to them.

      “Done with what?” One of them asks, suspicion and paranoia in his eyes.

      “This,” I motion to the battleground around us, coated in warm blood and the bodies of countless slain warriors.

      Walking off, I catch one of them say, “And you call yourself an eight!”

      “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” I comment back, not even bothering to look.

      Daffodil is her name. A beautiful golden retriever, my new friend. We had spent so much time together, bonding, all in preparation for this moment, as I stand before an invisible committee.

      Crouching down, stroking the top of her head to the flowing golden fur on the back of her neck, I do it quickly. My knife enters her throat cleanly, and I slide it through quickly, smoothly, minimizing her pain. But as she lies there on ground, bleeding out, I see I’ve missed the jugular. I correct my mistake immediately, ending her quiet whines, her suffering, my first task.

      Now create yourself a human DC, and do the same. I hear his sick voice in my head.

      No, that’s stupid. I have no issue killing illusions of my own creation.

      You will do it, or you’ll fail. Him again.

      But it’s pointless.

      Then you fail.

      . . . Fine. But I do it my way. . .

      Calling out, almost immediately, I find myself a DC. A young boy named Jerry.

      “Do you like baseball, Jerry?” I inquire.

      “I sure do, mister,” he replies hesitantly.

      “I’ve got a friend who’s really into baseball. Excellent pitcher; throws a pitch the Japanese call The Great Equalizer. . .”

      And just like that we’ve formed a bond, Jerry and I. We walk for a bit, before I tell him I’ve got something to show him.

      “What’s that, mister?”

      I can hear he’s nervous as I draw my knife, the one I’d used a short time ago.

      “This is my knife. Nice, isn’t it?

      “What do you use that for?”

      “Oh, killing, mostly.”

      He steps back, fear on his face, and I know how much this is going to suck for both of us. So, with a flash, I activate my Geass, imprinting my will over his own. Now all Jerry wants, with his entire being, is to die by my hand. So I oblige, placing my hand on his shoulder and slashing open his throat. To quicken things, I drive my blade into his stomach and drive it upwards, destroying his heart, without breaking any bones.

      He’s dead before he hits the ground.

      Things begin to fade. . .

      Creative. His voice, sickeningly friendly, breaks the silence, keeps me tied to the dream.

      He was just an illusion. I told you already, killing DCs is meaningless.

      Really? Then I suppose you wouldn’t have any trouble killing a DC of your mother? I can almost see his twisted grin.


      To prove a point, I whip up a DC who looks just like my mother, cut her throat like the others, hit her onto the ground, and stomp her skull into bits, her brain into mush.

      I feel no remorse.

      You have issues. He seems stunned and taken aback.

      Like I said. Just a DC.
    6. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 04-02-2011 at 06:18 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Ruined (Non-lucid)

      With gusto, I sprint across the cool, black asphalt, brown sneakers propelling me forward with every pounding step. The horde looms in the distance, row upon row of agile, intelligent zombies. Knowingly, I dash forward, weaving through cars, crimson, white, and purple, cutting to the right with nothing but STAR, my trusty yellow Nitefinder, in hand. Nay, the zombies aren't on my tail; they're right in front of me.

      They mock me, as I slow down, off to their rightmost flank. What could I possibly do with such a small weapon, they wondered? Was I even worth the effort of a charge?

      Stopping, stepping back, I know they're right.

      Well, at least about the former.

      With a smile, I raise my arms, and lift a dart from the ground, twenty paces away. The zombies look in astonishment as the dart floats of its own accord, and their jaws drop when it fires through the air, nailing one unfortunate zed in the face.

      But still, they mock me.

      One dart won't be enough.

      Both arms, and countless darts, rise at my command. My eye lit with a fiendish glint, I can't help smirking at their shock. Even as they charge, I'm alight with joy, as my darts rain upon them, taking out their front line. But despite my barrage, many of them remain untouched, and now they're upon me, here to devour me.


      A quick teleport puts me behind their ranks, where I continue to wreak havoc. Every time they get close enough to do something, I teleport away and attack from a different side. Eventually, it becomes too much for them.

      They quit, walk away, deband themselves.

      What have I done? Could it be I've singlehandedly ruined this Invitational.

      My perspective cuts away. . .


      A girl walks along the same black asphalt I had run upon earlier. As she goes, she breaks the rear windows of every car she can. Another girl, part of the same horde I had just forced into ruin, goes to stop her, asking her what's wrong.

      The first girl replies, “You know, when the game's on I can keep it under control; I can stay sane,” she rubs at her face, smearing the black ash covering her cheeks and forehead, “But now look what's happened. . .”

      The second girl, yelling, remanding, starts: “That doesn't mean you—” but she's cut off as a knife pierces her pink skin-tight shirt and enters her gut. With a thump, she's lying on the ground, as the ash faced girl smirks and walks away. . .


      What have I created?

      Years have passed since that fateful day, but the terror, the crazed female killer, remains at large. As her creator, I'm tasked with her extermination.


      We meet on a field of dead grass, my sword drawn, a machete with a complex, elegant, two-handed, design, her knives at the ready. In a flash of steel, we clash, crossing blades, determined to end the life of the other.

      But alas.

      The dreams fades.
    7. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 01-11-2011 at 08:59 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Prince (DILD)

      Blurs. Orange and dark, everything fades: out of existence, into existence. This room is my prison, and my mind, my thoughts, my will, they lay suppressed, fighting for air, life, and the ability to soar. A callous laugh rings about me; my soul is his, he says, my struggle futile. . .

      I disagree.

      This dream, this state, I will overcome it!

      A flash.

      Light greets my eyes as I rise above the strength of my captor, as I rise into lucidity.

      I've been here before.

      A Demon Lord smiles at me blackly, ethereal, flowing, seated on his throne, behind his servants, their detailed malevolence and dark beauty equally as vivid as the one they serve. I cannot best him, he informs me, for I am nothing.

      Uninterested, walking away, through the open courtyard, I spot my betrayer, a Monkey King who had led me to this place. But for what, I wonder. He seems stricken, upset I have seen his true colors. Is that regret in his eyes?

      The Lord rises from his throne, following after me, through the throng of laughing demons, all in their higher forms. Are they laughing at me? Or at the incompetence of their Prince? I can't be sure, but his taunting is starting to annoy me.

      The wind blows through the short, pale, snow-dipped grass as I turn around to face this Lord, Prince, whatever he might be. He sneers, and turns his back on me. He really knows how to push my buttons.

      I raise my hand, but my mind can't make contact. Is my TK useless here? No, surely that can't be, not at my level of control. I try again, this time with two hands, remembering how powerful my TK has proven itself in the past. The Demon Lord seems horribly surprised when his head jerks violently to the side. But it's not enough; he's resisting. Pouring on the pressure, another 60 degrees, but still he stands. Again and again, I throttle and wind his neck on its axis, rotating it in circle after circle, but all I earn is a disgusting look of wonderment.

      I decide to take a different approach, taking to the air, and raising my arms up above my head, letting loose a primal shout. A yellow, pulsing aura bursts from my body whilst my hair, now bright and golden, spikes downward, extending into an impressive, body-length mane. Above me, a yellow, glowing orb starts to grow. I feed it my rage, imbuing the ball with a dark red energy. Swirling now, yellow and red, it grows as I scream, as the Demon Lord approaches me, licking his lips.

      In moments, I've grown my attack large enough to vaporize my foe in one fell swoop. So why does he look unconcerned? Is this really all I can do? He seems to think so, but I feel like I can make things more interesting. . .


      Blue electricity shoots up my arm and fuses with the ball, coating it in a spiral of jagged cerulean lightning. The Demon Lord smile fades. He asks me what I've just done, but the only answer I give is cryptic, even to me. With a cry, I bring down my arms, hurling this orb of death at my enemy, who appears to me now as Frieza. To my surprise, he simply stands there as the blast hits his plated chest. Does he really think he can absorb that?

      I watch as he finally realizes what the chidori fusion was designed to do: penetrate his defenses like a knife through taught paper. But by then, it's too late; his last ditch effort to evade the technique only saves a fourth of his body. Part of that fourth, still floating in the air, looks back at me, forever set in an expression of despair and confusion.
    8. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 01-05-2011 at 07:09 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Feeding Time (Non-lucid)

      Darkness covers the deserted outpost. Grey walled, black roofed buildings, dot the area, each a relic of the past. Though, the architecture, old-west in style, seems to be the norm across this post-apocalyptic wasteland. Shuffling through the first floor of the Inn, my sisters and I cast shadows on the murky glass. They're coming. . .

      “What's that movement? In the window,” a woman points and whispers through hushed sobbing. A group approaches from up the grassy, wet, dirt-laced hill. They haven't slept for days. I motion with my flesh-torn arm for my sisters to cease their movement, close to the door now, out of sight, we're in perfect striking range.

      “You're hallucinating,” warns the portly man with a broken staff and scruffy shadow of a beard. He saw it too, but hunger, the possibility of food, and a lack of sleep disrupt his reasoning. Unsure as he approaches the loosely hinged door, he warns the others to stay back.

      It's likely these people have never seen one of our kind before. Never had to fear our bloodlust, our thirst for human flesh. No, these poor travelers have no idea what's waiting for them, just inside the darkness. We have the advantage.

      They're unlucky, really, terribly unlucky. We could have come to any world, any universe, in the hunt for our true prey. I never had to steal that alien craft in our home dimension; the resistance would have gotten along fine without it. Sure, some key leaders would have been executed, but the fight would have continued.

      Instead, out of character, I took a risk, and here I am now, in another plane of existence, dead and rotting, kept moving only by a powerful virus, or magic, I can't be sure. My intelligence, my self, remains intact. A true zombie, I am not, but my craving, my need to feed. . . all too real. Even as I bite down on this man's fleshy leg, repulsed by the taste, the dirt, the grime, I can't stop biting, tearing, where the others can't see him, can't hear his muffled cries.

      I really hate it when they don't shower.

    9. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 01-04-2011 at 06:06 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      ¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

      Eval (Non-Lucid)

      Quote Originally Posted by Mzzkc View Post
      I drift and roll, consumed by bliss, by care free wonder, as my thoughts, my life, my being are evaluated true, false, back to true, on and on until I soar too high; the weight of my consciousness brings me crashing down into an empty, concrete pool.
    10. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 11-26-2010 at 05:00 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      ¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

      Beaten (DILD)

      Quote Originally Posted by Mzzkc View Post
      Standing defiantly in my poorly lit basement, I shield myself with all the blue, formless energy I can muster without Bankai, but the black, cloud-like entity's ferocious assault finds its way through my barrier, and I can't do anything as its dark, heavy energy (three times the strength of my own) buffets me, overwhelms me; soon we find ourselves in the court outside my house, but before I can do anything worthwhile I wake-up, shaken by the experience.

      Updated 11-26-2010 at 05:04 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    11. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 11-15-2010 at 05:58 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Legion (WILD)

      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.


      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. . .

      Updated 11-15-2010 at 06:02 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    12. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 10-20-2010 at 03:53 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)

      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.

      The Way The World Ends: Special Edition (Non-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.

      Updated 10-20-2010 at 06:15 AM by 25167

      memorable , non-lucid
    13. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 09-06-2010 at 08:31 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      I Just Wanted a Drink. . . (DEILD)

      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. . .


      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.

      Updated 09-06-2010 at 08:36 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    14. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 08-28-2010 at 06:45 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      Edited for improved awesome.

      The Cult (DILD)

      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. . .


      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.


      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.

      Updated 10-22-2010 at 08:59 AM by 25167

      lucid , memorable
    15. Mzzkc's Mind Games

      by , 08-12-2010 at 03:38 AM (Mzzkc's Mind Games)
      The Way The World Ends (Non-lucid)

      "Good morning, Colonies! Boy, do we have a show for you today!" The announcer's voice blares over my ear-piece, as I walk through Karachi, heading to my assigned 'interview.' "We're joined today by an esteemed Physics Professor and doctorate who is conferencing in all the way from. . ." He pauses. The view cuts to the broadcaster as he quickly flips through numerous files on his holographic display. "It's Cambridge, right?" he asks, more quietly.

      Another man with a thick accent begins to reply, "No, actually--"

      But the announcer has already found the file in question. "Oh, that's right! Texas MIT! Before we get to that segment, however, we have another installment of our bonus lecture series!"

      That's my cue, I better hurry up the stairs and find this woman.

      "Today's class is presided over by one of our very own Sociological Ethics and Law Lecturers."

      There she is. I greet her quickly and take out my small audio and visual recording device.

      "Please feel free to join the lecture remotely, and don't forget to ask questions!"

      We were live. The professor briefly introduces herself as we make our way through the dark, rundown building. My camera work is surprisingly smooth, but I seem to be having trouble keeping her in the center of the frame and following her movements. Eventually, we make it into a decent sized room and the real lecture begins.

      She starts by explaining basic concepts that anyone viewing should already know. Yet still, she has the gall to ask if there are any questions. "Hold on," I say as I reach for my com device. Sure enough, there's a solid red light, indicating someone is trying to interact with the class. Or just messing with her.

      Hitting the talk button, I wait for the person on the other end to say something. . . Silence. I hit the button again, "No questions," I state. She smiles, blissfully unaware that she's already lost everyone's respect.


      The lecture continued as I faded in and out of alertness. At one point, she began discussing law making theory. An analogy was on the board, relating the foundation of any structured law to pipework, which one builds onto over time. But what happens when the pipes get old and outdated. I think. Shouldn't they be replaced by something that can keep up with the times?

      I bring the point to the Professor's attention, and she addresses it by referencing several countries whose base 'pipework' was designed to gradually be replaced to accommodate ever changing needs. Stupid. In today's day and world it'd be better to scrap the whole damn thing and start fresh. These antiquated pipes just aren't cutting it anymore. I don't press the point any further; it'd just waste time.


      The classroom is brighter now, and there are students here besides myself. Professor Whatserface is angrily going over some definitions. I briefly stare at the board to memorize what's on it. Simple stuff. I just wish the kids in here would stop screwing around.

      Glancing around the lecture hall, I spot a friend behind me, two tiers up. Standing up from her seat, straightened arms supporting her thin boy-ish frame, I see Samael leaning over the desk of the boy beside her, who himself looks a lot like Lucidmax. She seems vastly interested in whatever is written on the papers in front of him. I turn back toward the board, and contemplate pulling out a pair of display glasses, linking into my own feed, and putting my head down. Nah, more trouble than it's worth.

      Regardless, our seeming lack of attention had finally struck a crucial nerve in our Prof. She hands out tests to everyone in the room, including myself, ranting about how she expected better from us and insisting she didn't want to give us exams, but we had forced her hand.

      "Look lady," commented a rather brash young man one tier above Samael, "we all know how excited you were to finally get a shot at teaching savants." His voice played off the sarcastic intonation perfectly. "Yeah, we learned everything you taught us. And, yes, this test is bullshit. But you keep in mind this whole thing is nothing more than a bonus class for us. Free time. So, don't you be surprised when most of these papers come back with 'The Great Leopold Wiggin' written at the top." The class snickers audibly. He's completely right, and the raw truth of it all brings a smirk to my face. I'm quick to hide it.

      Well, I might as well work on this test.

      Question 1: What are the definitions of "soul" and "biology" as discussed in class.

      Crap. These were just on the board. But, for some reason, my recall is hazy, blurry, almost dream-like. It's as if what was written on the board never existed. I keep struggling, fighting through my memories like one would against the ocean's current. . . Nothing. Maybe if I work through it, BS here and there.

      Soul: A spiritual essence that some believe

      Samael gets my attention, only, it's not Samael anymore. She's still my friend, the same girl from before, but her hair is longer, more teal, and her figure is very pronounced. The girl begins talking to me, and I know what she's doing instantly. Brilliant. She's dropping me clues to the answer while making it look like nothing more than chit-chat. So eloquently, too. There will be no way anyone can accuse her of cheating. Though the Professor caught on right away, echoing the last thing the girl had said in a mocking tone. She's just upset because she knows there's nothing she can do about it. Just then, I remember what was written on the board.

      Soul: A spiritual essence that some believe The agent that binds humanity together. Encourages moral behavior.

      I take a moment to criticize the definition and its obvious flaws. Not all mankind believes in souls. Where do they fall into this definition? They don't, but hopefully, if they've got any power, they're smart enough to see the little value there is in this concept.

      Biology: The genetic force that drives humans apart. Often incites violent struggles.

      More flawed definitions. Though, this one has an air of truth to it. . .


      All of us are headed back to earth from the outlying Colony. Our shuttle, nearly finished breaking through the lower atmosphere, prepares for a hard landing. No one celebrates our safe return. We all know a sea of nuclear warheads is descending upon us, dropping through the same atmosphere we just passed through. This was it. The end of everything.

      But I wasn't going to have it. "I know how to stop the nukes." Everyone looks at me; their dark, empty eyes stare blankly. All hope has left them. We touch down violently, but not a moment too soon. Immediately, I create a purple shield of energy and extend it out, all around me, protecting my classmates and a portion of the shuttle-craft. 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. Every piece of the shuttle not protected by the shield is destroyed, yet we survive. When it was over, I couldn't help thinking, Maybe it would have been better to die quickly, instead of slowly. From the looks on my peers' faces I could tell they were thinking the same thing.

      Dropping the shield, I notice my friend sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and rush over to her, but the boy from before tries to push me away, giving me some ass-backwards reason as to why I should get away. I tell him off, refuting his point with enough logic to shut him up. Lifting her into my arms, I teleport away.

      "Well this is great," comments the young man from before.

      There was a long silence before anyone spoke up.

      "Do you think they'll be back. . ?"


      I appear in a lobby. The teal haired girl is standing beside me now, perfectly alright. As I approach the uniformed security guard behind the wooden counter, he doesn't even blink at our strange and sudden appearance. After I inform him of our situation, and our need to move beyond this check point, he informs me that he's a zombie.

      "You seem too intelligent to be a zombie."

      "That's what all the other zombies say. So they stiffed me with job."

      "Well, are you going to let me by?"

      "No, sorry."

      "That's not good enough. Either let me by, or I'll force my way through."

      He stands up and pull his Maverick on me.

      "Do it," I whisper, reaching out my hand.

      "Oh, I will!"


      Reaching out with my mind, I catch the projectiles as they leave the blaster and launch them right back at the guard. He's stunned, but it wouldn't last long. Taking the girl's hand I lead her further into the facility. . .

      Updated 10-20-2010 at 03:47 AM by 25167

      non-lucid , memorable
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