Things to Run Away From Really Fast

09/19/10

"No! No! Stop!" she shouts at the bizarre figures. She's the character from last night's dream, the roommate who looks like a younger Halle Berry. The girl struggles, tries to pull away, but she's strapped into the machine by strong hands holding her down.

The black tendrils bury into her wrists and she screams. Sizzling with dark energy and blue sparks, the wires grate against every nerve, causing her pain beyond what she's ever imagined. (I feel the echo.)

She's suspended horizontally, supported only by the wires on her wrists and ankles, which string her tightly over the laboratory floor. It's pure agony.

"You should be quiet." Says one of the aliens. "If you keep screaming, we'll put you in the chambers."

Images of coffin-sized capsules, each containing a human being. The capsules are filled with a liquid which burns ("like lava," whispers one of the victims) and seems to eat away at the person inside. It's a stable chemical reaction which will last for an eternity, providing power for the alien conquerors to sustain their society.

("This is hell.")

"Nonononono..." whispers the girl, trying to ignore the pain. "I'll be quiet, please! Don't put me in there, I can be quiet!"

I come back to myself. I'm sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, and my arms are suspended by the same tendrils that are causing the other girl such pain. The wires dig into my wrists, and the blue energy sizzles through my arms. I breathe out and sink into a meditation.

"Is it broken?" One of the aliens asks, curiously.

I open my eyes. The two aliens are talking quietly amongst themselves. It's unheard of for a human to be able to withstand this particular torture for so long. It's been at least twenty-four hours since I've been put into it, and the two beings in front of me seem to think that it's broken my mind.

I'm not, of course, human.

My possible futures flash before me. In one, I collaborate with the aliens and facilitate the destruction of the human race. Eventually, I'll destroy the conquering civilization itself, and move on to the rest of the galaxy. In a few futures, I'll lead humanity in a rebellion, with varying degrees of success.

I don't pick one. Instead, I play through each of them, living through each possibility until the point that all life in the universe is destroyed.

It never takes long.

Scare Factor: 5/10
Rating: 6/10

Do you think this counts as anachronistic naming, or am I just getting lazy?

WBTB after #148 (which was better), so I'm posting this one on its own.

This may have almost been a WILD.

09/18/10



When I come to, I'm lying on the floor. I'm also dreaming. I place my hands on the floor in front of me and run them through the grey shag carpet, trying to stabilize.

I get up, and go to walk out the door. I notice the lights are off. I decide to test whether I can turn them on and off, since light levels often change during my dreams. I flick the switch, but nothing happens. Huh.

I'm walking through the hallway, feeling the rolled on paint, trying to remember what I was supposed to do.

I pop my head into a bedroom. There are people lying all over. There are a few on the bed, a few more lounging on the floor.

"Hey," I ask my in-dream roommate, a girl on the bed who looks like Halle Berry. "Have you seen Zoe?"

"She said she'd be at the party tonight."

The dream fades into the party. I'm somewhat surprised; that's almost like teleportation.

Lose recall.

My parents drop me off at an apartment in downtown Calgary. I have two half-empty cardboard boxes with me. Both my mom and my dad are very disapproving about my decision to move to Calgary.

We're driving through downtown, away from the skate park my brother wanted to go to. I see a couple of the people from the No Limits parkour group (I don't know them IWL), practicing as we drive by. I point them out to the other people in the car.

Different dream.

Zoe has a little brother, in this dream. I steal a set of Janitor's keys from him and he chases me through the building.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 3/10

Everyone's dreaming about carpet.

Some quick backstory, for context.

Selina is a girl I knew in high school. She showed up once in a previous dream. The two of us never spent much time together, but we got along fine. From what I remember, Selina is a very nice person.

Jesse, I also went to high school with. We didn't get along, and though we're distantly related (small towns, eh?), we really don't share any of the same viewpoints. At all.

I met Zoe Killion a few years ago, at a fine arts-related event. We've been friends ever since. She has a younger sister, whose name is (not really) Ava.

This dream relates to Nomad's RPG. Vaguely.

09/18/10



The good of one, versus the good of many.

We are in a forest, surrounded by tall, black-barked trees. The edges of the clearing are choked with thick underbrush, and the lilac leaves and tall grasses tickle against the back of my t-shirt. The sky is streaked with the orange of the setting sun, which is hidden by the trees ahead of me.

The group is gathered in a large circle, sitting cross-legged on the ground and facing inwards. I look around the circle, cataloging each face. I know all of these people. All of them are my age, and they're from all over the world, these people I've met in waking life.

We've been stranded here, I realize.

"It'll be one of them," says Jesse, pointing at me and - Zoe, sitting to my left. "Look at you two! Your spots are right next to the forest! Anything could come by and grab you."

I'm lucid, not even feeling the need for a reality check. I frown. I can feel the dark, wolf-like presence lurking in the shadows behind me. Wordlessly, effortlessly, I call up a wall of mirrors on the other side of the clearing, confident that I'll be able to see the creature coming.

I recognize the mirrors as a part of Nomad's first task, and I decide to stay here to play out the rest of the game. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror: short blond hair, black clothes... everything gets a little fuzzy.

Who cares about the many? I just don't want it to be -

"- anyone," says Zoe, a bit sharply. "All we've been told is that one of us is going to die."

"And if that happens," says Jesse, "Then the rest of us will be safe until tomorrow night!"

Half of the table stands up at these words, shouting at each other. They're leaning across the round, stone table, ready to escalate into violence.

The sunset is fading into darkness.

Selina is standing up, ready to play the mediator. To get everyone to calm down, and work together, and I see my opportunity.

I squeeze a hand into a fist under the table, and Selina collapses, dropping to the ground like a marrionette whose strings have been cut. Her internal organs have been liquefied, some of her bones have been ground into dust, and I'm pretending to panic along with the rest, pushing through the crowd as someone yells "WHAT HAPPENED!" and "Did you see?" and I'm pressing two fingers against her carotid artery, checking for a pulse that I know won't be there.

"She's dead." I say quietly, and the faces around me reflect both horror and relief.

The rules don't apply to monsters.

I twist open the back door on a blue van, crawling in the back to reach for a case. It's orange, and the outside is covered in foam. My fingers sink into it as I lock it, latch it, make sure nothing is going to open it by accident.

"Everyone's still trying to figure out what happened," says a voice from behind me.

I crawl out of the van, resting the case upright on the bumper.

"I mean, one second she was alive, you know?" says Ava, rubbing her left arm with her other hand. "Everyone thinks it was something supernatural, a new kind of monster from the forest."

"It probably was." I say.

"That's the briefcase." Ava nods at the orange case I'm holding. "The one that'll kill us if we go near it. So, it's safe now?" She makes a grab for it.

"Don't touch that!" I snap, hitting her hands away. Idiot, of course it will still kill you! It's just that nothing is going to attack you outright - at least for now.

I slam the door shut on the van, and walk away from the camp, still carrying the orange case so I can hand it over to my employer.

I'm on no side but my own.

"We're leaving!" says the Matron as she paces the inside of her ship, the flowing fabric of her dress trailing behind her. "Get the rest of the crew."

"And the survivors?" I ask.

The Matron growls. "I meant to capture all of them, but we're on a deadline."

I nod, and turn to leave.

"If you should happen across Miss Killion, of course," says the Matron coldly, "Bring her to me."

I pass Ava as I leave the ship. She has her arms crossed, and is guarding the gangplank. She winks at me, and I allow myself a small smile.

I'm certainly not on yours.

I hit the drunk crewman over the back of the head with a bottle. It shatters over him and he collapses to the ground, dead weight. His equally drunk friend, who was about to attack me, looks from the unconscious man to the razor-sharp bottle neck in my hand. The man stumbles away, apologizing, and promising to go back to the ship.

I sigh, and pick up the unconscious man, swinging him into a fireman's carry over my shoulders. I turn to Zoe and nod in the direction that the man just ran in. We start walking.

"So let me get this straight," says Zoe. "We're working with the bad guys. Who want to kill me."

"Because the Matron has the only transportation off the island."

"Who wants to kill me."

"She won't," I say, grinning.

You really should have seen this coming.

"You can't touch her." I say. I'm feeling gleeful, and I'm sure that I'm radiating an air of smugness that's setting the Matron on edge. Well, that and the fact that I stole away her first prize in manipulation.

"You can't do this." She hisses.

Except that I can. If I own Zoe's soul, the Matron can't touch her. I would be obliged, even within all of the complicated truces and agreements we have with one another, to pay back any harm threefold.

I don't actually own Zoe's soul. But the Matron's not about to question my integrity. She has too much to lose.

The Matron's sulking is so pronounced that I have to laugh. "I'm the devil!" I tell her, "Did you really think that I wasn't after anything for myself?"

Scare Factor: 4/10
Rating: 7/10

Quick roundup of this week's dreams. Yay, real life.



09/14/10 - No recall. None. Very little sleep.

09/15/10 - Illegible handwriting. Apparently this was a dream about drinking.

09/16/10
I'm on a family vacation to the States. There's an entire bulletin board dedicated to the "Ground Zero Mosque" in the lobby of the hotel. This starts me off on a rant about religious tolerance.

The Joker kidnaps two children. They're probably more trouble than they're worth.

I find a swimming pool in the shape of a tea infuser.

09/17/10
I'm driving my dad's old Ford truck. We're carrying something explosive, and if we hit anything suddenly, everything will go up in flames. Suddenly, the brakes are failing, and I have three options: I can drive into a fence, a pile of logs, or a swamp.

We hit the swamp, and the truck sinks into the muck and stops there. It's not sinking any farther though.

My dad turns around and looks at me. He's about to start yelling.

"Good thing this is a dream, right?" I say sheepishly.

Pause.

"Hey, this is a dream!"

I spend the rest of the dream climbing buildings. I'm having trouble flying, but I find that if I swing my arms and move my feet, I can walk vertically up the side of walls.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 3/10

Whoa.

09/13/10



This is a building with no windows. The walls and ceiling are black and plasticky, and the dark tiles on the floor are smooth and glossy. Neon signs and arrows are laid out tackily along the walls, advertising the various games on display and giving directions that I can't read.

I'm in a small alcove, playing one of the arcade games stuffed into the small hallway. The place I'm in connects a larger hallway (which leads to a set of elevators, and the lobby of the building) to a large, open room, the entirety of which is pitch black and shiny.

I keep moving along the wall and towards the room, switching games as I go. I'm trying to stay out of the way of the janitor, who's coming from the elevators. He's driving a rainbow, glowing lawnmower with various mop-like attachments which simultaneously clean all surfaces of the room. The mop cleaning the ceiling is spinning in circles and whipping across from side to side. The side mops are giant spinning things, reaching out to the edges of the hallway. It looks like a demented, inside-out automatic car wash from an alternate dimension.

I haven't actually seen it, though. I'm just quietly moving towards the black room.

- discussing what's happening in the big bang theory tv show on the big screen tv in the black room with someone or other -

I'm playing air hockey against myself (neon, of course, lighting up the room), when He finds me. I roll my eyes. I was really hoping to avoid the Arcade's mascot.

It's a clown, of course. He dances around spastically as he approaches me. I cross my arms over my chest and the colourful clown turns the pitch black of the walls and starts to disintegrate. I hear the employee - the man in the suit - decide that he doesn't get paid nearly enough for this.

In another dream, I'm talking to one of the actors from Supernatural, Jensen Ackles. The surroundings are plain and the carpet is brown. Ackles is complaining about his insane fans, and I decide not to ask for an autograph.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 4/10

Got most of my stuff packed up today. Just clothes left, mostly.

09/12/10



I'm filming a documentary about the variety of religious beliefs in our culture. My invisible cameraman and I are set up near a bus stop. I interview people and ask them to talk about their beliefs on camera.

One young woman wants me to come to her evangelical, ultra-conservative church to film and meet her minister/pastor/reverend. While this probably is a golden opportunity for me, I really don't want to go. Absolutely nothing in this scenario could possibly end well.

The woman turns into a girl I knew in high school, someone I barely ever talked to. We're going on a road trip through the US, and I'm consulting the GPS on my cell phone.

I'm walking through an airport.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 1/10

I spent most of the day packing for the move. I don't like packing.

09/11/10



Incandescent light bulbs are hanging from wires, interspersed several meters apart. It's quite dim. The dirt floor is covered in straw, and I kick up pieces of it as I walk.

I'm leaning down over a roughly made cage, which is covered in chicken wire. The top is open, and I see a few rabbits hopping about on the floor. I pick up the one that looks like my childhood pet, all white fur and red eyes. As I pet the rabbit in my arms, the dream fades around me.

Scare Factor: 0/10
Rating: 2/10

Well, that was uncharacteristic.

Fun dream, but the writing's kind of screwy.

Moving out of Saskatchewan! Maybe I'll stop dreaming about "Ixburg".

09/10/10



I've de-aged again. I have the impression of messy black hair, and apparently I'm Harry Potter. Cool.

I'm also trapped in a cave.

"I can't let ya leave, 'Arry," explains Hagrid, turning to a conveniently placed stove to pull a kettle off the boil, "The Ministry won' allow it."

"I see." I'm standing with my hands at my sides, eerily calm. The lack of expression seems to unnerve him.

I'm unconcerned. Hagrid has already given away the secret, and he has his back turned.

I raise my right hand. "Imperio."

I walk out into blue skies.

time skip

In the time since I've left the cave, I've fought off a few extra-inept stormtroopers, easily taken care of. (I actually wasn't sure about one. Thought he might have been a shadow-trooper, but he died easily enough.)

I had another encounter with Berserker!Hagrid. Apparently three layers of Imperius spells don't do anything positive to your sanity.

Beat him.

Now I'm wandering around Ixburg, heading toward the east end of town for some reason.

I'm trying to fly. Annoyed that it's not working. I can manage some of the jumps, but I can't stay in the air.

Standing in the center of an open road, I concentrate on growing red, hawk-like wings. They extend from my arms, so I don't have to concentrate on a new set of limbs. I flap the wings, and take off.

Passing the warehouses on the edge of town, I notice Imperials swarming the place. Apparently it's their base.

I stand across from Darth Vader.

"I am your father."

I'm unimpressed.

We fight, but he fades into the background.

I remember Capture the Flag, from Jedi Academy. That was fun.

A stormtrooper holds the blue flag, and is standing on top of the empty red base. He's waiting for someone to return the flag so he can score.

I force push him off the building, and he goes crashing into the corrugated siding of another warehouse. Dead already. Hn. Blue flag returned.

The blue team scores, and I grab the red flag. Darth Vader's still lurking around here somewhere. Something's glitching on him, maybe? He can't jump onto the roof.

I fly off toward the hospital on the other side of town, the blue base, after sprouting another set of wings. I wonder how I'm carrying the flag without hands. I try not to think about it. Maybe I'm holding it with my teeth.

In another dream, I'm standing in a hallway, looking at the men's and women's bathrooms, which are side by side. I have no fucking clue which one to use.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 4/10

I wanna go back to bed. Nothing to see here, folks.

09/09/10



Misha Collins conquers the world one random act of kindness at a time.

Labyrinthine underground cities. A bluish tinge to the grand entrance halls and expansive meeting chambers. Everything carved from stone, going on into the earth for miles.

I'm sitting in a movie theatre, third row from the front, staring into space as the rest of the theatre's patrons file out. I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I glance up at the guy standing next to me. His head is tilted to the side and he's looking at me curiously.

"Enjoy the movie?" he asks.

"It really makes you think." I allow.

He holds out a hand. "Misha."

"Sam." I say, shaking his hand. "You're one of the producers, right?"

We talk about stuff.

I wake up a few times, and I'm third person POV on a new dream. Buffy and Willow are coaching Xander through some kind of school-related interview. He has to keep eating ice from the soft drinks, or something bad will happen.

Someone says "Rosenburg" a lot, and Buffy gets lectured by a teacher for corrupting Xander and/or Willow.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 2/10

I don't think I've been getting email notifications for the past few days. Weird.

09/08/10



Ixburg, SK

2000

He's killed, just like that. His daughter, seven years old, is alone in their apartment across town. I'm the daughter.

I slip from the bed, tiny and blonde and short-haired, and push open the door to the rest of the apartment. Somehow, I'm not surprised to see a man there. The man is stocky and blond, and I can see that he's grinning when the orange light from the window hits his face.

I incline my head. "Sir." I say, my voice neutral.

He grins wider and nods back. I step back into the doorway of my bedroom, and he brushes past me into the bright light of the hallway.

He'll be back, if only to keep an eye on me. I need to leave.

Originally Posted by DreamViews DC

It really doesn't count for the RPG if you make up the stories while you're awake.

Originally Posted by Samael

That's why I'm posting in this thread, isn't it? You know, the planning thread. Plotting thread. Where we plot.

I'm incubating a dream, okay?

Originally Posted by DreamViews DC

You still have to write your character profile, btw.

Originally Posted by Samael

...I'm going to finish the story now.

Unknown, IL

2010

I'm a man in a black suit, sitting in the back of a black car, which is driving to the outskirts of a town in Illinois. And we're in Illinois, of course, because the Organization tracked an Extranormal here. One false move, one positive test, and suddenly Jane Doe (Age 17, Grade 12, parents work from home) is about to be assassinated by a team of armed government goons.

It's funny. Extranormals can't strictly be barred from going to school, or holding regular jobs. Hell, they can even travel. Different countries have different restrictions, of course, but the good ol' US of A is all about liberty. The Organization can track them, though. Legality's a little fuzzy, but some real dangerous ones pop up occasionally. What to do with them?

Here's the thing: Extranormals go crazy all the time. They lose control of their powers and suddenly they're either a human icicle or a pile of ashes. Most of the time they take innocent bystanders with them. It's really no problem at all to fake a meltdown. Kill the EN, murder all the bystanders, blow shit up. It's easy.

This one's powers are a little more subtle, so no flashy special effects. Fortunately, ENs tend to be a little crazy to begin with, so it wouldn't be unheard of for one to suddenly... snap. Possibly kill her entire family with a butcher knife. Double murder-suicide, neat and clean.

The man in the passenger seat has the knife.

We pull up the gravel driveway. The other three men silently open their doors and step out. I hide a grin by turning toward the empty road as I step out of the car. No one's coming.

The plan is to enter the house and kill the parents, then ambush the girl when she comes home from school.

Neat and clean.

Except.

Her father died ten years ago.

Her mother died even before that.

And Jane Doe is a really stupid pseudonym.

The only person in the house is the lodger who rents out the basement. That lodger is an Extranormal himself, a young black man who's trying to lie low. Obviously, that's not working out.

I can sense him in the front entrance of the house, ready to attack the first man who comes in. I give the all-clear to the other men.

The man with the knife kicks open the door and walks into an ambush. I shoot the other two in the back.

Once upon a time, there was a man in a black suit. The man was supposed to sit in the back of a black car, and break into a house, and help murder an entire family. While he was still alive, this man used to really hate shapeshifters.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 6/10

I watched The Last Exorcism last night. It was boring, and the shaky cam made me nauseous.

I'm sitting in the hotel lobby, because it's really hard to sleep after a dream like this. Everyone else in my party is still in dreamland, of course.

I just have more fun there.

09/06/10

In which I'm confronted by a creepy little demon girl.



The case contains four Books from the Akashic Records. I pull off the lid reverently, and the three of us peer into the box.

I pull out a dusty, leatherbound edition, and turn it over in my hands. The cover is blank, but the unwritten words pop out at me in red script.

To read this text is to risk eternal damnation.

I open the Book without another thought. It falls open to a spot near the center, revealing an illustration of a beast with horns, wreathed in flame. So this is the comprehensive guide to demonology. I skim the Latin text, translating automatically. The demon has a name something like "K'nushekkal". I turn the name over in my mind, not willing to risk saying it out loud.

Actually, I think about it. Just to see what would happen.

I'm more interested in the other two books.

fade

I hear movement, and wake up in a dark room. I feel like it's my bedroom, but the place bears no resemblance to anywhere I've ever lived.

The blankets are bunched up at my feet, and I sit up, bringing my knees up to my chest. I'm looking at my hands, trying to count my fingers, but I can barely see. It's just light enough for everything to take on a dark blue hue. I peer at my fingers, touching each one with the other hand.

"One, two, three, four, five, six." I mutter. The number's not right, but I think I might be seeing things.

No. I can see the pinky digits twisting into each other. I'm dreaming.

I feel a puff of breath on my ear, almost a laugh. "You're a natural," says an otherworldly voice. I can hear the smile in it.

I turn my head slowly to the left, not moving another muscle. A little girl in a white nightdress, maybe twelve years old, is leaning against the side of my bed, grinning up at me. Her irises are such a dark brown that it looks like her eyes are all black. The whites of her eyes seem to glow.

And her nails are digging into the skin of my forearm, holding me in a vice-grip.

Before I can react, she's pulling me through a tear in the dream, straight through the back of a bookshelf. Dark grey mist howls around us, and I can feel her pulling me down. Screams linger at the limits of my hearing, and a tendril of fear slithers through me.

What the hell, I think, giving myself over to the sensation. I want to see where this goes. I close my eyes.

When I open them, I'm standing in the bedroom, across the room from the demon. Her hands are clenched into fists and she's scowling.

"Hm," I say, tilting my head to the side, "You're one of the demons from The Book. I recognize you." Not by sight, of course, but the pages left an imprint.

I cast a glance around the room behind her. Like I thought, the demon is standing next to The Books. That's irritating. I really want to read the other three.

The demon tenses, and I grin as I rush her, landing a hit that sends her sprawling to the side. I keep up my momentum, going to grab the box.

She hits me from the back. I spin around to face her, but she's running at me again. We land on the ground, each trying to pin the other down. I can feel her demonic form at this point, even if I can't see it.

I have her pinned by the arms when I realize that I won't be able to contain her. Calmly, I come to a conclusion. Without a physical weapon, I start to sever her limbs from her body. I pick up an arm and throw it away from the rest of her, cut off her head and kick it away from the rest of the body. I'll scatter the pieces around the house. In the time it takes the demon to pull herself together, I'll have read at least some of the other books.

I'm sawing apart a Barbie doll. Then I wake up.

Scare Factor: 5/10
Rating: 6/10

I'm not crazy.

09/04/10



An airplane flies through the sky, slightly above the white clouds below. I'm a passenger, sitting in a window seat. The plane starts to descend.

It's not supposed to. I'm willing the plane to keep a straight course, trying to pull up the nose of the plane. It's not working. I let go, hoping that when we get underneath the clouds, it'll be easier to keep the plane level.

We hit white, fluffy clouds and suddenly, they aren't so fluffy anymore. The plane disappears, and I land in cold, white snow. I look around, realizing that I'm on the side of a mountain. There are pine trees all around me.

So I'm dreaming. I'm in a forest, so that makes this the perfect time to work on Nomad's task. I appear within a cluster of trees, looking out over a snow-covered clearing. I know that I need a mirror, so I focus on pulling something together, a plain rectangle. Golden lines of light create an outline, the most light sparking around the corners.

I can't hold it. The image falls away.

Goddammit.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 4/10

09/03/10



I'm on a scaffold next to a roof, scooping leaves out of the gutter. I scrape the soggy mess away from the shingles and into the eavestrough, then pull it all out. The leaves disappear at this point. There's nowhere to put them.

I'm moving slowly from left to right, caught up in the mindless task. The dream is pleasantly hazy and restful. And then... the roof falls away.

I'm left looking at a collapsed section of the roof. It leads down to a shallow pit filled with tar. The wind stirs up a bit, and I remember that this was the center of a huge mystical battle. Many people died. The rumours say that it's haunted, but no one wants to believe that. For a loved one to be trapped as a ghost is one of the worst experiences imaginable in this world.

A glint of red catches my eye. The sun lights up the crevasse, showing a red-haired woman standing quietly. Her hands are folded in front of her. She stares ahead with a blank expression.

A man comes over from where he's been working on the roof, probably wondering why I've stopped. He's physically imposing, in his late 40s at least, and he's wearing an eyepatch. When he sees the ghost in front of him, he goes very still.

I can feel his sadness.

I wake up.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 4/10

The ghosts were most definitely inspired by the Felix Castor book I'm reading right now.

P.S. I'll be gone for the weekend. If I have any interesting dreams, I'll keep track of them.

09/02/10



I pull myself out of bed, even though I really don't want to. I'm tired, and miserable, and everything's just a bit blurry. I drag myself into the kitchen and sit down, staring into space. Really, this whole thing seems a little... off.

I hold up my right hand. "Two, three, four, five, six." Seems normal. My hands are leaving little motion paths behind them, just like they would in a dream. I dismiss the phenomenon, though. The paths aren't distinct enough to really be noticeable.

Never mind that I'm sitting in the back-room kitchen of the motel my grandparents used to own. Never mind the fact that my grandma sold this place years ago.

I feel shadows forming in the corners of my mind, indicating traces of worm-like creatures on the verge of existence in the other room. I go still. If this was a dream, I could deliberately induce a nightmare. That would be fun.

Maybe I am dreaming. I'm standing behind the glass doors to the patio, looking out over the lawn and the pine trees planted around the perimeter. There's a bunch of things I could be doing if this was a dream.

I hold up my left wrist and bite down on the skin there. I catalogue my reactions. No pain, which doesn't strike me as strange, not really, because I can feel my teeth and lips on the skin there.

I'm tired.

End recall.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 3/10

Hello, I'm on sleeping pills. This should be interesting.

09/01/10



I'm in the midst of an ill-defined series of sex dreams. I remember switching genders at least once. Something clues me into the fact that I'm dreaming, but I'm feeling a little distracted at the moment.

The dream is morphing. I feel disconnected, and there's a whole bunch of white space. A DC turns into something two-dimensional. A person-sized poster? A mirror? The image in the glass-slash-paper is still the same man. He doesn't seem concerned.

I'm sleepy.

Mirrors. Nomad. I wander outside, unconcerned with how I get there. There's a lonely cluster of pine trees, surrounded by a mish-mash of buildings associated with my childhood. The dirt has been tilled recently; there's not even a bit of debris left on the ground.

"You're in a forest, surrounded by black-barked trees." I recall, "There's a path. Something left." I pause, trying to remember. "Late summer."

I give up at this point. I was hoping to call up the requisite imagery just by reciting the words, but it looks like that plan's out.

I walk up the dirt path. There's an idea in my mind, that I need to shed my clothing to complete a ritual. The mirror is in the trees. I throw a light-coloured button-up shirt to the side and brush my hands over a tank top. I'm hoping that my shapeshifting won't go out of control, because I'm pretty sure I'm stuck halfway between forms. I'm not in the mindset of my character. Everything is out of focus.

Another distraction. I'm running down an alley, towards someone. Jumping a white fence. Trying to find trees at the center of a labyrinth.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 3/10

Attempt at WakingNomad's Serial Dream RPG.

Sorry that I haven't been reading anyone's dream journals, by the way. I don't have the energy right now, so I'll get at them when I can.

Cheers.