Puffin

Type: regular dream.
Lucidity: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Vividness: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

I was in the car with my father; he was driving and I was in the front seat. It was a black infinity, even though we have a white one in real life, with a black leather interior and polished cherry wood accents. We were traveling along some city street with small, decrepit buildings on both sides, the kind of buildings that would host pawn shops and second-hand stores.

I was playing a game on a hand-held system that looked like an original teal gameboy color. However, the screen was twice as big, as was the console itself. There was a pokemon game on the screen; it was three-dimensional and you controlled one pokemon. There was a mountainous layout like that of the Sims games, except with much more details and crisper graphics. The whole mountain was a bowl shape, with all the pokemon in the bowl part, along with other small hills and rocks. There were many other pokemon running around, flying around, and digging in the ground. It was sort of like mission impossible, as it was every pokemon for themselves, and they had to defeat all the others before they defeated them.

I was a flygon in the game, and I was pressing buttons that were labeled "fly" on the console. The flygon would dive down and attack a pokemon underneath it, then come back up again into the air.

The dream changed, and now I was a part of the game. I was on a small rocky hill covered with snow, looking for powerups. I saw things covered up in the snow, little coin-shaped light green circles with plus signs on them, and when I got near them, I'd absorb them and I'd hear a beep. I had no idea what they did, but they were obviously good for something.

Then, I saw a large purple sticky hand in the snow. The hand was visible, but snow covered up the long part, and it disappeared onto a small hill. I picked up the hand portion and ran up the hill, to see an upside down u-shaped piece of rock, with the end part of the purple sticky hand tied up in it. There were two children, probably seven or eight, wearing heavy parkas with fur. They looked at me and said, "this is ours, get your own". I told them, "I'm already touching part of it, so it's mine".

One of them walked up to me, puffing out her chest, and said, "no!" I leaned towards her and said, "if you want to fight me for it, fine, but I'll win." She punched me but I didn't feel anything because she was wearing thick mittens. I laughed and said, "bye", waving as I did. The two backed off and went away.

I spent quite a while trying to unravel the sticky hand.