dream fragment

I didn't try to consciously lucid dream, but I guess my DILD's had a different plan.

Uno:

My face was cold, and then the rest of me started freezing. I just sorta looked around for a minute before realizing there was only one thing standing in the dank, stone room. A tall mirror stood in the middle with inscriptions on the top gild of the mirror. All you Potter-heads know EXACTLY what I'm talking about by now(Erised). I was haaaapppeh. This was a good dream line and I knew I was sick so should probably stop dreaming, but I ran up to it anyhow. The entire mirror was covered in thick, black dust. That's fine, I'll just wipe it off, right? Wrong. I stood there for a couple dream minutes, polishing it with my sleeve, but it didn't do jack. For a moment, I almost got mad, but it took a while before I realized it didn't really bother me.
My dream looses focus and I wake up. I blame cold medicine.

Dos:

I'm freezing on a rock's ledge far above the ground. My dream created bitter cold wind biting into my skin, but I think I should just sleep with more blankets at this point. Anyhow, I'm closer to the base of the mountain, thankfully, but there's this dude at the very edge of the ledge. At this point, I'm kinda curious who he is, kinda curious how long it'll take for the cold wind to become warm, but I know exactly who he is when he turns around. There's a long scar down his left eye and cheek over what I said would be fine features. His hair's dark and his eyes are silver, but he still has the mouthful of canine teeth that I created. He's one of the characters from my stories.
Dream ends. I just go immediately back to sleep which may have caused the DEILD dream next.

Tres:

My dream plopped me squarely (rectangely? I mean, the Hallway's not a square.) in the Hallway. I immediately swaggered over to the first door and opened it without really caring. Two small candles resting on great metal bars stood before a giant tapestry that I fuzzily remember dragons and fire being embroidered on with incredible number.
I just stood there for a moment, watching everything. Chills started to work their way up my spine and I suddenly got this sense of foreboding and anxiety that knocked me on my dream ass. Just as I was about to shut the door (Common sense! Yay!) I noticed there was book sitting on the ground between the medieval lamps. As I started to move closer to the book my dream faded off.
Such good timing. I don't remember waking up, I just sort of floated into the next dream, I think.

Cuatro:

I'm standing in a giant tower. The sky's a raging black and the ground is rougher than obsidian. Even the cool grey stone bricks of the tower are dark in the lighting, and the sounds of war ring out below me. A huge army is amassing at the base of the tower, stretching out over miles. They certainly look, let alone sound, intimidating, but I wasn't even close to being scared. That's when I realized they were MY ARMY! I started my little victory dance: The electric slide coupled with the Thriller in an amazing moonwalk montage that features the Worm and some very awkward break-dancing, but then my dream faded as I woke up coughing my lungs up.

Seis:

Musical instruments line the walls of a small room with no doors. No doors is never a good sign. I was still grooving with it, though. A clock was mounted over the only clear area in the entire area, but I didn't take much notice of it. The hands were pointed at 0...Couldn't be a very effective clock. A sound erupted from a cello at the other side of the room. If you didn't know, cellos tend to sound VERY NICE. This one resembled a person ripping a poor wittle squirrel's teeth out more than a musical. The other instruments began to join in: Ukuleles, pianos, guitars, flutes, trumpets, tubas, violins, drums, triangles, clarinets and far too many more made a horrible ratcheting sound in their complete discordance.
I really didn't like that clock. The hands began to move as the sound rose in intensity, and between my shoving fingers in my ears, I reached up for it. It took a minute for me to grab it, even though I didn't grow, and I smashed it against the ground. The sound faded until a piano was left playing Hallelujah in Jeff Buckley's fashion.
Dream faded.

Siete:

I'm sitting at a desk. There's no walls and no floor. I'm just there with my chair at an empty desk. Simultaneously, a sign and single white pen appears on the desk.
"Write "dead" on your desk."
My first reaction is like: What could it hurt?
My second reaction is: No. For those who don't know, white is considered all the colors of, at least, our visible spectrum. Equipped with this dream knowledge, I slipped off my chair, and started to draw the grooves in a wood floor. I gently blew on the white lines I drew into the black, and a three dimensional groove appeared in dark wood. The sign yelled at me. "Deviant. Write "dead" on your desk."
I didn't really care, to be honest. This was too awesome. I kept drawing the one plank until I came to spot where I thought a wall might look nice and just drew straight up into nothing. A dry-wall appeared as I breathed on it again, and I quickly formed a pale blue plaster with dark bronze patterns at the edges.
The sign yelled again. "Deviant. Write "dead" on your desk. Complete your reconstruction."
I didn't stop. I'm a bad deviant. After a while, I finished the outline of a small room. The sign kept yelling at me, repeating the last line over and over again. Out of pure instinct, I drew a small window across the room and filled it in with my white. Another person on the other side blew on it, and light flooded in from outside. The sign yelled again, as the light hit it and the desk before fading completely away.
I liked that dream. I really did. And then I woke up and wished I had a white pen to draw my cold away.

Ocho:

Two swords rang out against each other, clashing in darkness. A figure of a person I knew and definitively hated swung his sword again, to my parry. I'm sure my blow-by-blow report of an evenly-matched fight would bore you, so I'll skip that and get to the point: We were evenly matched just as we always would be.
Dream faded into Nueve.

Nueve:

While the other dreams had been longer in nature, this was short and sweet.
A lady treading on nothing in a white sky that glittered silver and sparkled without light stood before me. She was elegant and strong, beautiful without anything one might consider beautiful.
"You are brave. Stay with your bravery until the end."
I wanted to ask her a question, and I felt it rising in my throat as I woke up in a cold sweat.

I kept waking up due to pain in my throat, so I ended up with six dream fragments. These are my dreams in chronological order.

DILD:

A friend I know in real life is walking beside me in the autumn woods just behind her house. She looks a bit strange to me, inflated like a balloon and stretched around the eyes, but I don't pay much attention to it. The path we're walking is clear through the brush and a light dusting of snow hides under thick branches. I already know where we're going: A large circular camp with an odd hide tent and fire-pit that has died in the cold gusts.
We both have guns slung over our shoulders (a Ruger M77 for me and a Ross rifle for her if anyone's interested) and mine was cooler! By the time we reach the encampment she silently moves behind the tent. I thought that was kind of odd, but whatever. It's a dream, weird shit happens. Seconds later, I hear a shoot ring out, and a bullet whips by my face. I got to seeeee the bullet. My dreams are the best bros ever.
Because I'm awesome in both my real hunting and dream hunting, apparently, I swing the rifle off my shoulder in a fluid move and engage the bullet. It only takes a moment for me to aim from twenty yards and pull the trigger.
Dream ends. Saltwater is gurgled and Benadryl is taken in copious amounts.

Slightly graphic
WILD:

I'm sitting in someone's living room with a government-style dossier in my lap. Paper targets litter the floor and the bulls-eyes are ripped apart by large-caliber bullets. The dull sofa I'm chilling like a baws on is torn and stained in more place than the dreaming human mind can count.
So, I open the flimsy paper book and a severed human head greets me. His skull is ripped open in five spots that look to be about .22-size organized in a triangular shape but it looks to have been bleached under water. A vague sense of familiarity encases the picture when I realize I passed the guy on the street last week.
This carries on with multiple people I can barely consider acquaintances: A late cashier I saw being yelled at by their boss, an elderly lady I helped walk across the street and another foolish skateboarder who fell trying to jump eight steps. Each had nearly identical wounds to the first but the last picture has thin blunt force trauma instead of entry wounds. Guess which one.
Dreams ends. I wake up coughing slightly.

DEILD:

I'm in a gigantic skate park in the middle of the night. I'm not on a skateboard: I'm on a hoverboard. With a laser gun. Not a ton to this dream: I just hovered(?) around shooting other people on their boards between my sweet moves. Nobody else was recognizable due to a paintball-esque suit, but I didn't the feeling that I knew them. You know how your dream tells you stuff like this. But, when someone got shot and fell off their board, they disintegrated on the floor in pixel-like dust.
I didn't win, but I didn't lose either by the time the dream ended.

DEILD:

So I was a swan. A black swan, precisely. I'm not really sure why, but when I tried to move my arms they were big black wings. "Oh, I'm a black swan!" Not gonna argue with my mind there. I flippered, floppered, swan-walked around a little on a strange little hill before I decided to go flying.
It was pretty awesome. One of the better dream flights I've had, because I felt the need to actually FLAP and all. But I knew what would make it cooler: Mid-air fights. Another swan, maybe. I just let my mind process it. Before I had time to really react, three Arado Ar 76 (German jet fighters) pull out of the clouds.
Aaaand, I spit fireballs at them, from my awesome black beak. Rolling, diving, twisting and turning around the pit-patters of machine gun fire and then fireworks as I ignited their engines. Every time I put a plane down another one came out of the clouds until the sun set.
Dream ends. More saltwater gurgling.

WILD:

This one was pretty awesome. When I used to LD a LOT, I created this thing called the Hallway. I used the Hallway as a cool way to access dreams I could remember or plot-lines that my subconscious would be cool. Basically, my mind's eye thinks it's this insanely tall, narrow corridor that stretches out longer than I can see, with monotone brown doors on both sides. Each door has plaque on it where I can "write" whichever dream or things I want in my dream.
I got to revisit the Hallway again, and I picked a dream that looked exactly like the Hallway, because I figured that'd be awesome dream-ception. When I stepped into the new hallway, however, there was only one door. And a centaur behind me. Just as I was stepping through the next door after dodging a charging centaur, the dream ended.
I had to get up and do some crap, but I just passed out on my bed later.

Non-lucid dream:

I was playing a violin. I have no clue how to play violin, but it sounded quite nice. As I played the violin, however, surges of strange colors would flood my vision and twist the environment like I was stuck in a kaleidoscopic tube. There's not much I can say other than each note turned into a specific color or in a predictable way. Associating sound with visual context would be a cool way to learn music in real life, though.