lucid

Recall's a bit fuzzy. This happened in the middle of the night, and I didn't get up to write it down. In the morning, I originally woke up with the vague impression that I might have had a lucid.

Slept quite well, though. I was in a very good mood for a while.

09/24/10



Staring at a grey carpet floor, I am fully aware that I'm in a dream. I don't bother with a reality check, but I do take a moment to stabilize my surroundings (do nothing). I'm concentrating on the carpet, for some reason. Next time, I should probably focus on the rest of the room.

Nomad's RPG task is to rescue the demon boy. I imagine myself in a forest, an aura of fear tinging the air. I wait for the faint pull that will take me from one dream to the other, and

End recall.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 4/10

And then, at work, I hit myself with a crowbar in the face. Ow.

09/22/10

One gigantic funeral/conspiracy dream I don't remember. Moving on.



I think I'd been dreaming about dolls. There was, of course, something entirely creepy about them. Also, dog trainers, road trips, and friends of Zoe.

I'm walking down a short flight of carpeted steps, into the entrance hallway of a house somewhere. My foot hits the bottom step, and Oh, I think. I'm dreaming.

Reality check. I need to get back into the habit. Finger count: six.

I'mlucidI'mlucidI'mlucid, I repeat to myself, concentrating. What did I want to do, again?

Oh yeah. "Do nothing."

I sit down on the light grey carpet and place my hands palms up over my knees. I take a deep breath, and close my eyes briefly.

Everything turns a swirly grey. Alarmed, thinking I'm going to lose the dream, I open my eyes and begin touching all the surfaces in the room. Carpet, wooden bench, painted walls.

I feel that the dream is secured, and walk out through a screen door. The screen door pulls around me, warping, and I push through it.

I find myself at the entrance to a meeting place. A gym, or something. Apparently, it's for members of Nomad's shared dreaming class.

I introduce myself as "Sam", and chat with some of the other students. One girl's avatar or userpic was very pink. We ended up making out on a couch.

I'm losing lucidity, and I don't notice. One of the students is an old friend of mine, who died a couple years ago. Elaine sits beside me and whispers something in my ear.

I'm hungry. We're sitting in a cafeteria, and I have to get back to class soon. I want some vegetarian food, but the Thai place is closed, and the sushi place doesn't have anything without fish in it. Someone brings a Saskatoon Berry Pie from the restaurant next door.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 3/10

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

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 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

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.

No recall whatsoever from last night, so here is my only recent lucid.

08/16/10



I'm in a house with many rooms, interlocking and placed at odd angles. My surroundings are mostly wood - hardwood floors and ceilings, solid oak banisters as I climb the stairs. There's a darkness here, I can feel it, caused by a multitude of tortured spirits trapped within the rooms.

I'm looking for one in particular.

At the top of the stairs, on the second floor, I come to a bathroom. I nudge the door open. It creaks as it moves, opening into a plain bathroom. The floor is dark tile, and there's an empty jacuzzi tub to my left. On the right side of the bathroom is the vanity, and on the far right of the room is a shower stall.

I step into the room and close the door behind me, knowing that this is where my clue is. I stand straight and compose myself, reaching for a particular feeling. I focus on cold, inky blackness, on the unyielding terror of a nightmare, and pull it from inside me. I watch the paint on the walls peel, rust streaking across water-soaked walls.

It has something to do with the water, I think vaguely, allowing myself to move on autopilot. I have to drown. I step into the shower stall, and watch the door close behind me. Water begins to gush into the stall, held in by the waterproof seal on the doors. It won't make any difference if I try to escape now. The water is up to my knees now, filling up fast. It takes only seconds to reach my neck, and in no time at all, I'm completely submerged.

I blink through the cloudy green haze that encompasses my vision. I feel calm, the quiet confidence that accompanies lucidity. I take a breath, and feel clean fresh air enter my lungs. My breathing pattern is steady.

I step out of the shower stall as the water drains away, and look at the tub across from me. It isn't empty.

Blood overflows from the white acrylic tub, spilling over the side and staining the tile floor. In the water is a body, twisted and mutilated. Its skin is flayed off, and its stringy hair hangs limply into the water. The creature grasps weakly at the side of the tub and lifts its head, trying to crawl out.

I meet the thing's eyes, and go to kneel beside it.

"Your employment ended poorly, I take it."

I saw this man in an earlier dream. A mercenary. He and his brother worked for an enemy of mine. They tried to kill me at the time.

He mumbles something.

"You're dead." I inform him.

A hollow, rasping laugh.

"Tell me where to find him."

He does.

I leave the apparition to his torment, and let the nightmare fall away. I'm standing in the hallway, looking out into the bright sunlight.

Maybe I'll go flying.

The Otherworld. Scare Factor: 3.

I actually couldn't remember any specific task I wanted to complete at that time. I ended up searching in my long-term memory, and thinking of Walms. I actually managed to teleport somewhere to look for him, but no actual success.

I am, however, getting better at teleporting.

I ran into the person I was chasing later, as well. There was a lot of talking that I don't remember.

08/08/10

I'm part of a story in a familiar seeming place. Everything's happening out of order, events and dialogue added where I think the story needs it. As I wake up, I see the story written out on a word processor.

I wake up. As I fall back asleep, I enter HH. I'm a younger version of Dean Winchester, and there's something I still need to do. I'm still lucid, but I don't want to wake myself up, so I fall into the dream.

***

I'm a giant, fighting a tiny man as we climb up a water tower. I try to kick him off my foot, but he's holding on, trying to stab my toes.

***

I'm in prison. I'm sitting with a group of people, all handcuffed with zip-ties, our hands wound up in green mesh. My mom and dad are there, part of the dozen or so people jammed into the cell, sitting on the wooden benches where there's room.



Despite the lack of space, I'm not crowded on the bench. I'm also pretty much ignoring everyone in the room, now that the guards are gone. I'm concentrating on removing the zip-ties. I think I might have been chewing through them at some point, but with a flourish, I have them off my wrists. I hold onto the mess of plastic for a second, think about pretending I'm still trapped, but I let it fall to the floor. I'll take my chances.

Finally, we get our own cells. All of the doors are open, so I calmly walk over to the cell by the window and sit down on the bed. Originally, we were supposed to be sharing cells, but there aren't any bunk beds. There is no privacy; everything that isn't an outside wall is made of narrow bars, four inches apart. My mom takes the cell beside mine.

Lights out. A guard comes over to check that we're in bed. He stands too close, but I'm not worried. I sense no malevolence in him.

Which is fortunate, for his sake.

The guard shuffles away and I stand up, moving silently in the shadows. The locked door to my cell swings open of its own accord, and I walk, unnoticed, right out of the building.

***

I'm a hunter. Female, with long, curly black hair. I'm interviewing witnesses, trying to figure out what's going on in this town. Someone recognizes me from an earlier hunt, and claims I'm a cop.

***

Two versions of Dean Winchester sit at different tables at a restaurant. One is just barely older than the other. The younger one approaches him.

"You know, I've had a hell of a time since you got the cops after you again."

***



There are two versions of Dean Winchester, but the age difference is exaggerated. One of them is a child, and the other is an old man.

They're at the entrance of an old quanset on a farm, when I see a flash of something happening in the distance. Six plumes of light grey smoke fly from the ground and hurtle toward us.

Sam and Dean, about five and nine at the moment, are outside. A little piece of narration goes off in my head.

They're after the kids. Demons who steal away children that wander off on their own. It's part of the local folklore.

I'm hardly there at all, so the older Dean has to decide who to save: the younger Sam or the younger Dean. Of course he goes after Sam, and I stay inside, waiting, as the demons approach mini-Dean.

When they grab him, when they go hurtling through the air towards their base, I phase through the wall and take off after them.

"Omnipitus omundi patronus," I mutter to myself, sneaking into an old farmhouse. Wait, Patronus?

Just like that, I'm lucid. I smile, and crawl into the small entranceway. Bits of dust flake off of everything I touch, and I find myself crawling as the hallway gets smaller and smaller.

A woman attacks me out of nowhere. By all rights, I shouldn't be able to move in the small hallway I've wedged myself into. I won't consider myself trapped, though. I lash out, grabbing the woman by the jaw and the back of her head, and I twist.

The woman falls to the floor, her neck broken.

The house is normal sized again, and I walk into the bedroom, see the young Dean lie sprawled out over the bed. "Omnipitus omundi patronus," I repeat, but nothing happens. I sigh, and pick the boy up, ready to run him back to his brother and older self.

Claustrophobia. Scare Factor: 2.

07/24/10

Something about angels that die at the same time as their human mates... I should really stop reading bad fanfiction.

I'm running away from zombies. I want to take to the water, so I steal my uncle's boat and go down the creek.

I need supplies. I find another boat, but apparently it's owned by the still-surviving Mafia. I steal the boat.

Now I'm being chased by thugs sent by the Mafia, as well as zombies. I run into a building, blasting holes through walls and ceilings, trying to make a route to the roof. I realize that I'm dreaming. I try to black out and go to the first location I think of (the apartment in Ixburg). I stop, everything around me faded to grey, and wonder why the hell I'd want to go to Ixburg. I fade back into the dream and keep running.

I make it to the roof. My enemies are right behind me. I jump down onto a white truck, and make a run for it, laughing.

Later. I'm on the road in a camper-trailer. I'm making dinner and doing dishes. Oma wonders if there's not enough protein in the pasta I made.

We're going to see a movie in Moose Jaw (real place, I do not kid). We park the camper and I step out with my cousins. I look at the showtimes, but Despicable Me isn't playing in that theatre anymore. Apparently this is the first day it's not showing. I'm very sad.

The Mafia. Scare Factor: 3.

Notes: I'm writing up an especially epic dream from two days ago, which seems to directly follow up Seven Minutes in Heaven. Basically, Castiel (from Supernatural) gets captured by someone, and I take the opportunity to thoroughly mindfuck Team Free Will.

07/19/10

I contemplate world domination/destruction. Fortunately for the planet, I still can't teleport.

Note: As of July 21, this is no longer true. Watch out, world.



I look down at my right hand and count my fingers. "One. Two. Three. Fourfivesixseveneightnine." I get distracted and start counting off random numbers, but I'm lucid by this point, and looking around.

Dream goals... right. I wanted to go to Walmart and open a portal to hell. No reason, I just thought it would be fun.

I try to shift to a new location, attempting to bring my companion along.

I wake up in bed. Except for the part where I'm still dreaming. I know it automatically, but I still do a quick count of my fingers. The ring and pinky fingers are alternately multiplying and fading out of existance, so that's normal.

I "wake up" again, but I still know I'm dreaming. I go outside and decide to along the sidewalk at a sprint, just to see how fast I can go. I run up a hill that doesn't exist in real life, surprised that I can actually feel a physical drag slowing me down.

I consider the possibility of using running as a reality check.

Fragments: I'm driving a Bentley. I'm either Crowley or Aziraphale from Good Omens. Something about one-ways and suburbs. Or maybe that's Suburban (the truck). I can't read my writing.

I find my keys. They're hanging from the doorknob of my bedroom.

False Awakenings. Scare Factor: 1.

I wake up. My keys are still missing. Damn you for giving me hope, Id.

07/21/10

I try to figure out this teleporting thing. Hazel helps out.



The scene drifts into focus. I'm sitting on the cool, freshly trimmed grass outside the Ixburg Inn. My surroundings are hazy, and I feel half-asleep.

It's one of those late-morning, about to wake up dreams. I dig my fingers into the soft grass and soil. I'm dreaming, I tell myself. I'm lucid.

I stare at the yellow metal siding of the warehouse beyond the fence, trying to remember my lucid goals. I can't remember the first one, so I go down the list until something pops out at me.

#2. Find Hazel.

I feel for my phone in the front left-hand pocket of my jeans. The colours around me start to grey out, and I slowly lower my hand to the ground. I grab fistfuls of grass and breathe deep, watching the sky get brighter and bluer as I calm down. Sunlight beams down from the sky. I'm facing the other direction, toward the back of the motel rooms. There are apple trees beyond the fence.

I slip my hand into my pocket (left-hand, right-hand, there isn't any difference) and pull out my phone. I think I should try this method one more time before I give up on it.

Leaning against the red fence, I mash seven random digits into the keypad (one of them is an "8") and hold the phone to my ear. It rings twice.

"Hello?" says a female voice on the other end.

"Hazel?" I ask. "Are you asleep?"

"Obviously." She seems amused.

I shake my head. I'm still not sure this is really Hazel. "Want to try to meet up?"

"Can you teleport?"

I hesitate.

An impatient noise from her end of the phone, and Hazel is standing in front of me. The chin-length black hair is her dream-avatar's most distinctive feature, and I doubt it's what her hair looks like in real life.

We're standing on the other side of the fence, drifting slowly westward without my knowing. A DC lurks at the periphery of my awareness, and I think it's a childhood friend.

We discuss the best way to get back to her dream. I explain an idea I've been putting together, that instead of opening a portal or a door, I just need to imagine the new setting and drift slowly into it. The danger is in how easily this could trigger a false awakening.

Hazel says she wants to try something. She touches my forehead with two fingers. I fall back onto the tall grass, frozen in place. I can't move, and the scene is fading into black. I'm not worried, though. She starts talking, describing the setting of her dream.

I pop back into existence between one second and the next. I can still hear the words, but they sound like nonsense. I'm surrounded by orange wooden cabinetry, and I think I'm in a basement. The narration starts to describe the exact kind of cupboard exists across from me, and I snap, "Okay! I get it! I'm here!"

I'm sitting down on a bunk bed when Hazel appears again. The dream destabilizes.

I "wake up".

I'm in the basement of a church, or maybe my late grandma's house (she was a minister). I'm trying to find a bible, because the narrator has apparently been quoting bible verses at me.

I'm flipping through the book, but I don't remember the order. "Where was Ecclesiastes, again?

"Near the end," says Grandma.

I mutter something about having had these memorized at one point.

The dream ends.

I'm the commander of a fleet of ships, taking shelter in an empty harbour. A woman with long, blonde curly hair stands beside me, asking about the clouds on the horizon.

"Those are pure ozone," I tell her. "They're poisonous, but they won't come up onto the coast."

"I wish we could go out to them," she says wistfully.

Looking at the swirling mass of dark clouds, I almost agree with her.

Hazel. Scare Factor: 3.

Haaaazel, you're being all mysterious and otherworldly. Stop it.

Also: Facebook, guys? Really?

07/14/10

I'm running through a room with a sword, slashing at zombies. I feel like Zorro, only with more stabbing.

An allied DC gets grabbed. I slice apart the zombie holding him, but I scratch him with my blade. We hope for the best.

He thinks something might happen to me. I make an offhand comment, "I don't die." I'm not worried about myself.

I step into the next room. The door slams shut behind us.

I don't have my sword. A voice informs me that I'll have to meet its challenge, or the zombies on the other side of the room will be set free. A handful of neon orange-pink guitar picks appear in my hands. I have to throw them into a 3-inch gap on the other side of the room, in front of the zombies.

I throw two, but they go wild. The creepy childlike voice informs me that if I miss again, we're all going to die.

I hold one pick in the palm of my hand. I will it to float, and slowly send it toward the bucket. It lands perfectly.

I grin at the creepy ghostlike girl that appears out of the wall. She gestures sullenly toward another door and it opens with a creak.

"At least this isn't a dream," I say to my partner, "If it was, I'd have to wake myself up. I have a doctor's appointment in the morning."

I stop and feel for dreaminess. "And now I'm lucid," I say. "I really ought to wake up, though."

I focus on dismantling the dream, aiming for a new location. We'll see if this works...

---

False awakening. I beg a friend for a ride to work. Apparently, I work at a pizza place part-time. News to me.

One of the managers says that the new guy seems depressed and it's all my fault. I sigh, and go over to talk to the guy, who's standing in the kitchen.

"Look, it's not that I don't like you." I lie, "I just move around so much, I don't like getting close to people." I kindly leave out the fact that I'm friends with the DC managers, owner, and various and sundry employees.

The creepy fucker smiles at me. I really want to punch him in the face.

Zombies. Scare Factor: 4.