• Lucid Dreaming - Dream Views

    View RSS Feed


    Memorable Dreams

    1. #225. Calling Batman When You Lose Your Keys

      by , 12-14-2015 at 06:11 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      I swerve up to the side of the client's apartment building. There's an eavestrough there that's just too high off the ground to reach without a boost.

      There's a garbage truck behind me. I ignore it and back up, hitting the truck with a screech of metal. The car's just under the eavestrough now, and I open the driver's side door, turn to the client, and tell her: "Go."

      She slides out of the car and scrambles onto the hood while I smile pleasantly at the driver of the truck. He's still looking somewhat shocked by the fact that I just backed into him. As my client grabs onto the eavestrough and starts climbing into the apartment, I shut the door of the car.

      I pick up the car, crunch it into a ball, and throw it into the back of the garbage truck.

      "Don't worry," I assure the driver, "It's registered under a false name."

      He... smiles back, and I know that he isn't going to cause me any trouble.

      Updated 12-16-2015 at 04:38 PM by 31096

    2. #217. The King of the Forest

      by , 09-14-2015 at 01:23 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      Waking up after a dream that your husband was kidnapped? Quite a relief.

      Having to tell him that we might have been inducted as part-time members of the Wild Hunt? Maybe not so awesome.


      Cernunnos (KER noo nohss): the Celtic Horned God.

      Ravana (rah-vuh-nuh): antagonist in the Hindu epic Ramayana, follower of Shiva, king of Lanka, and depicted as having ten heads.


      I'm standing at a window, looking out into the forest. It's midday, and sunlight streams down onto the meadow that leads from the trees to the house.

      Movement. A deer appears, walking confidently from the forest. He has ten heads, all of them focused down the road beyond the house.

      I'm kneeling at the window as the deer goes by, close enough to touch. He's almost gone past. I hesitate, then tap on the glass.

      All ten heads swivel towards me, ten pairs of eyes focused on me, just beyond a thin pane of glass. I flinch at the idea that I'm getting the attention of this king of the forest the same way that disrespectful children get the attention of animals at the zoo.

      I'm sorry to bother you, I tell him. I saw you, and I know I'm not supposed to. I thought you should know.

      He stares for a moment. Then, a few of his heads dipping to look back down the road, he tells me:

      Come with me.


      We're at a bar. In the interim, I've learned more about our world's masquerade, been inducted into a secret society, and given my husband the necessary introductions.

      "At one point," my husband tells me, "Four of his heads swivelled around to look at me." His implication, it was creepy, remains unsaid. This is a supernatural bar, after all, and the king of the forest is never too far away.

      "He gave you half his attention," I say, tapping on my glass. "Imagine having one hundred per cent of it on you."

      I shiver at the memory of ten pairs of eyes looking into my soul.


      Not even 24 hours, I think to myself. Not even long enough for the police to get involved.

      And yet here I am, asking for a god's audience—to demand help to find my missing husband. Because I know that they've taken him.

      The king holds his court under the stars. He stands in the centre of the dais in anthropomorphic form, wearing dark maroon robes. I can feel the weight of his many eyes on me... but it feels like a weight has been lifted off of my chest. The decision has already been made. I can breathe.

      I need access to the network of cameras along the highway, I tell the god. They may be a long way from here by now, but even they would need to stop for gas.

      The heads that are looking my way nod in recognition, and the god raises a hand on his left side, a soft movement gesturing at the man behind him.

      I'm standing at the railing, the scrutiny of the court no longer resting with me (but watching, always watching). The man in the suit (the god's left hand) looks down his nose at me, a faint sneer on his face. New favourites of the god already asking for favours, I can practically hear him think.

      I'm calm, going through the motions with the mechanized precision of a person in mid-crisis. (Fight or flight or solve the goddamn problem.)

      "Thank you for seeing me," I tell him, even though we both know he had no choice in the matter. And then I change gears. "I'll need one of your techs to go through the footage with me. I can't do it myself this time—"

      this time, because that's the world we're now a part of

      "—but next time this happens to one of our people, I'll be able to help."

      A flash of emotion across his face, too quick to identify, and his eyes warm somewhat. "I'm {error

      "-Anderson," he says, catching my hand in a firm handshake. "Welcome to �����."
    3. #203. Worthy

      by , 08-23-2015 at 06:36 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      We finish our coffee and the blonde conference-goer shakes my hand with a smile. I hand her my card and grin back.

      The waiter walks up as the woman leaves. He leans over the table to pick up empty plates, his long hair swinging a bit as he moves, and I lean back, holding my coffee.

      "These new age yoga nitwits are easy pickings," I tell him conversationally. "They'll buy anything if they think it will help them along a spiritual path."

      The two of us chat for a bit, and I give the waiter my card and head out.

      Perspective switch

      I'm the blonde "yoga nitwit" from before. I'm looking into a mirror, changing my hair and appearance to match my character. My husband comes into the hotel room and smiles at me.

      "You got him?"

      "He's hooked."

      Someone comes and knocks at the window of the fire escape, and my husband dives for cover so that we're not seen together.

      The manager of the hotel is explaining to us that they ran out of space, so there's going to be a whole bunch of kids sharing our suite.

      "That's unacceptable," I tell him or her. Their gender presentation keeps shifting.

      They shrug. "You still have the bedroom. It's just the living area and the bathroom that you have to share."

      I look at the line that's formed in front of the bathroom and narrow my eyes, but I can practically see the timer for our op ticking down before my eyes.

      "Get out," I tell them. "I'll deal with this later."

      We probably have to scrub the op.

      I'm on another part of the same floor when all hell breaks loose. I'm pinned by a couple of girls from high school and a man is dumping cages full of dangerous things on me, which I'm deflecting. I break loose, wearing the guise of a brown-haired Samael.

      "Get back, fiend!" says a booming voice, and Thor is swinging Mjolnir past my head. I dodge across the room, and the hammer comes flying at my stomach.

      Oof. Confirming that sacred objects can still knock the wind out of you. Good thing I'm invulnerable, or this probably would have torn straight through my chest cavity. I still go flying, knocking down a wall behind me. Splinters of wood go flying everywhere, and I pick up the hammer.

      Just as an enemy agent pops out with an AK-47. I'm swinging Mjolnir by its strap to ricochet the bullets back at my enemies, and then I'm letting the hammer fly—

      And I throw myself through the door into the hotel room.

      "Elhaz," I command, waving a hand at the wall and weaving protection into the doors and windows. Overwhelming force, meet immutable object. That should buy me a moment's peace.

      I wave my hand in a pattern, more jerky than it needs to be, and glance up from the floor at Sandman's Lucifer, who's standing on this side of the door and looking at me with a nonchalant expression.

      "You were supposed to be covering my back," I accuse.

      I bicker with my counterpart. The two of us are the same person in different universes, or maybe opposite sides of the same coin.


      I'm walking on the side of a highway in the mountains. A girl has stopped me to ask about backpacking, and I say that I'm just walking from inside the town to the campsite on the mountain.

      "Really? I've never been there," she says.

      "You should; it's the best climbing spot in the area."

      My name is Honor Harrington, and I'm biking down a path in a valley. In the centre of the valley is a school, and I hop off my bike to go investigate.

      I sneak in through an unalarmed pair of double doors, and look around the main floor.

      The intercom is blaring something. My communications device is picking up another frequency.

      Honor Harrington is there? says an alarmed voice. We can't let her get to the balcony!

      The balcony. Interesting. I'd better get up there, then.

      I still haven't been spotted; they just know I'm in the area. I pick the doors that I walk through and the shadows that I creep through carefully, and make it to the room by the balcony. There's a bench there, and I poke at it to find a secret compartment filled with papers; glossy, like a magazine. I feel a stab of betrayal; J at the church put them there.

      I need to unravel what's going on here. But first, I need to make my escape.


      I drive my car into the parking lot at the school and step out. It's a work night for a local club, where we all sit and chat and work on projects. I used to volunteer with them, but it's been a while since I've gone.

      I'm inside, working on my project, but my hackles rise as a woman walks behind me. Apparently while I've been gone, one of the only really bad bosses that I've had has risen through the ranks of the organization. I try to ignore her, but leave soon after.

      Updated 09-14-2015 at 01:53 AM by 31096

      lucid , memorable
    4. #193. Objects of Faith

      by , 08-12-2015 at 04:21 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      I drive a motorcycle across my hometown, and realize I forgot my helmet. Oh well. I'm also carrying a baked potato in my jacket pocket, and it's falling apart.


      A nest of vampires in an otherwise benign-looking place, like a post office or a government building. S has warned me, but I come back anyway.

      Vampires are repelled by objects of faith (Dresden Files), but unlike the stereotype, they don't need to be Christian symbols. The eldest vampire stalks towards me, and I have my pendant in my hand (the question: does the onyx within it represent me or the people I believe in, because I don't necessarily have faith in myself...) and I strike, pressing the pendant into the vampire's skin. It sizzles and burns, the vampire trying to get away, shrieking.

      It's cries draw the other vampires, and I draw back to swing a fist, my Celtic ring coming into contact another vampire.

      Later, I'll be asked if we can do an empirical test to determine whether the gold of the ring or the silver of the pendant was more effective against vampires.


      "Who's your commanding officer?" demands a formidable looking black man with a military bearing.

      "I don't know yet."

      "Good answer," he tells me. He is my commanding officer.

      When a small group comes to tell me I'll be joining them, I look back to him.

      "Sir?" I ask, and he instructs me to join the group.

      We board a plane. There are more than a dozen seats left when I come in, but one of my squadmates is arguing with a blond, thinner man who's already seated.

      "These are for the paratroopers," says the seated man. "We don't have any seats for you."

      I approach and tell him that we're assigned to this plane, and will be taking some of the seats. He is angry, but we end up seated, anyway.

      I'm sitting next to a superior officer who's played by an actor I can't remember the name of. He's a heavier-set black man and he asks roundabout questions about my place in -- and loyalty to -- our shadowy organization. I tell him I will do what needs to be done.

      The plane is in the air. I stand up and walk down the aisle. "It's time," I say to one of my squadmates as I walk past. She's a darker-skinned woman with long, curly hair.

      We're in the air now. The six members of the squad are gliding towards our destination using wingsuits, flying through the chilled air.

      "We can make it the whole way," the woman I was talking to says over the comms.

      "Negative," I say. "We're losing altitude. Chutes on my mark; aim to land at the planned point."

      I see a red plume of light indicating where we should land.

      "And... NOW!"

      We deploy our parachutes and land on the ice next to an island. Before I know it, we have skates on and are making our way towards the shore.

      A red pickup truck meets us. We put skate guards on our skates and a few of us climb into the cab, the rest getting into the back of the truck. I'm making plans with the driver.

      Scare factor: 5/10. Lots of fun and adventure, felt in control of the narrative the entire time, despite not being lucid.

      EDIT for new rating system (and formatting colour):

      Adventure: 8/10
      Control: 8/10
      Fear: 2/10

      Updated 08-12-2015 at 11:21 PM by 31096

      non-lucid , memorable
    5. #187. Trinkets

      by , 02-24-2011 at 05:08 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      Door after door leading to white hallway after white hallway. "You must remember the way," he says, "For you will return alone."

      The next room is an airy loft, warm lights illuminating hardwood floors and brick walls, black leather furniture and red accents. Light streams in from the windows, but I don't look outside. My focus is on the jewelry box which sits on the black coffee table.

      Dark stained oak, cheap brass clasp. Approximately six inches across, four inches tall, five inches deep. I flick open the cheap brass clasp. Red velvet? Darker. Not black, too repetitive. Inside the box is an onyx pendant, oval-shaped, set in silver.

      My mind filters the details automatically, but I'm focused on the brief spark of red energy, invisible threads latching onto my energy reserves and trailing through another level of the dream-world. A horcrux, then.

      Dark. Underground. Cavernous. Walls drip with slime and... blood, yes. No smell, no sensory input other than sight. Area is large, but confining. Can feel the thing trapped here, straining against its bonds.

      Sharp movement. Living, shapeless mass of flesh and grinding bone. Something claws its way from inside, tears the creature open from the inside. A humanoid figure steps out of the bloody, writhing thing. This is the monster.

      "Run," I say to the other man. "You need to get as far away from me–"

      Too late. The room goes pure white in an instant, powered by the horcrux's parasitic bond. A cloaked figure unfurls itself across the room, stands up straight and I make a sharp gesture with my ebony wand, shouting and pulling on the emotions that I need to fuel the spell.


      White noise is deafening and the room gets brighter than should be possible and - nothing.

      He sits poised on the far end of the couch, staring disapprovingly at his cup of tea. Earl Grey in delicate white china, set in a saucer that he holds in his left hand. I'm on the other end of the couch, looking straight at him. I probably have a cup of tea, or maybe it's sitting on the coffee table.

      "So," I say casually, "From one dark wizard to another..."

      He smirks at that. "A dark wizard, Harry? You?"

      "This time around, it's different." I say with a scowl, "What was the first curse I cast at you, again?"

      "As I recall," he says, taking a sip of the tea, "You attempted to cast the killing curse."


      "You lack the hatred required to fuel the spell." He explains, and he meets my eyes. "This version of you does not love, Harry. All you have is apathy."

      Trinkets. Scare Factor: 3.
    6. #181. Eternity

      by , 01-28-2011 at 05:56 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)


      The ballroom explodes into chaos as the giant chess set dismembers the guests, forcing me to escape with the elderly ghosts of the manor who then try to trap me as I escape through the cracks in reality with the maid and her sister who don't trust me after I rescue them from drowning because I can't die (from that point on, we're followed by their zombie-like blue-tinged doppelgangers who are haunting their mostly-dead father who says, "This is our eternity," and means, "This is Hell.")

      Eternity. Scare Factor: 5. Rating: Awesome.
    7. #166. Elevators

      by , 11-01-2010 at 05:57 PM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)


      People continue to crowd into the elevator, and I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. On the verge of freaking out, I start to push the sheep-like masses in the direction of the buttons, hoping that no one else will be able to get on and pick a different floor.

      One woman won't budge. She faces the back corner of the elevator. She's looking down at the floor; I can't see her face. Her blonde ponytail swings a bit as I tug on her arm, and it takes me a moment to realize that she's missing a hand. Blood drips onto the floor below us.

      In the next second, she swings around with a snarl. I try to back up. I'm pushed away by the other people in the elevator. She's attacking me with her remaining claws, and her teeth are razor sharp and coming towards my neck -


      The scene stops for a moment, and I disassociate myself from my body. Hanging back, away from the elevator, I think about waking myself up. I'm about to, but

      That never works.

      All right, so we'll try something else.


      I block the girl's attack and catch her by the forearm. I'm tugging her towards me, stepping forward and sinking elongated teeth into her shoulder. I'm pulling and her arm is coming loose with a sick tearing and a spray of blood.

      Scare Factor: 5/10
      memorable , lucid
    8. #164. Catch Me If You Can

      by , 10-19-2010 at 07:14 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      Four hours of sleep, and suddenly this monstrosity comes along. It's fairly disjointed; I don't have a whole lot of time to play with it, so without further ado...


      Harry Potter tries to mess with the fabric of reality, I have diabolical plans, and Dumbledore disapproves as usual.

      "Just think about it," I tell her. "With this kind of breakthrough, we could completely alter the way humans perceive reality!"

      Sophie looks up at me, skeptical, one hand keeping her place in the textbook. She's holding a pen in her other hand, and she taps it impatiently against her notebook. She pushes a few strands of short red hair out of her eyes, and says, "I know what happens when you try to play mad scientist, Harry."

      We're sitting across from each other at a long wooden table. Sophie's studying - this is a library, after all. The interior is almost entirely decorated with red-stained wood, giving the impression of a highly modern, really big log cabin. With lots and lots of glass (and books). Sunlight streams in from the huge windows, and outside is a view of the forest, and the other school buildings in the clearing.

      "Chaos, generally." I say, grinning. Some of the other students notice that I'm grinning, and quietly begin to edge away from us. "You say that like it's a bad thing."


      There's this thing I have to do on the computer. It's very important. I'm sitting outside on the green grass, trying to do this very important thing, when - hey, will you look at that? Dumbledore's on Skype!

      Albus Dumbledore appears in a new window, looking very grave indeed. This is somewhat offset by all of the spinning and twirling metal gadgetry on his desk.

      "Harry," says Dumbledore gravely, "I've received word of the research you've begun."

      "Really?" I say, looking up from Minesweeper. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

      He sighs. "Harry," he repeats, "This is not a road you cannot walk down unscathed. You'll be returning to Hogwarts."

      "Um..." I say slowly, "No."

      "By force, if necessary."

      My computer pings.

      "Did you just -" I say, looking at the screen, "Did you just track my location through my internet connection? You realize I'm on a different PLANET? How the hell does that even -"

      But Dumbledore's appearing at the edge of the wards, walking into the school grounds the only way he can. I meet his eyes for just a moment, and I disapparate.


      Moving through Ixburg, and I'm running. I'm moving through a jobsite, people from my hometown who were, apparently, in direct competition with my family's business. By some sort of mutual agreement, they all ignore my presence, and I pass through completely unnoticed.

      Back doors of the grocery store and I'm having a conversation with someone before I disappear again -

      Narcissa Malfoy. We're standing in some anonymous hallway of a starship, looking out into the black.

      "I don't disapprove of your cutting his influence out of your life," she's saying, "But I'm not convinced that making an enemy of Dumbledore will be conducive to your goals."

      "There are greater forces at work here. He may get in my way," I say coldly, "But he can't stop me."

      Narcissa nods once, sharply. "Very well. My family is at your service, as always."

      I'm closing my eyes, casting my senses out into the nothing. Golden light is cutting through the darkness, pushing it away, burning.

      "You need to leave," I tell my informant, and I'm hurtling out into the void of space, an ethereal being of energy and animal and just a sliver of humanity. And the burning, fierce presence is crying out, raising its wings.


      He's found me through Harry's holly wand, called by the phoenix feather within. I smile and pull another wand from my sleeve, one made of ebony. And as the phoenix is upon me, I call up the Void, and I meet the creature's light with an unfathomable darkness.


      (O'Neill: What the hell was that?)
      (Carter: I don't know, sir, but it almost blew straight through our shields. We're lucky it wasn't closer.)

      "Grab my arm." I tell Sophie. We apparate from planet to planet, trying to get Dumbledore off our trail. One, two, three, four, five. Hoth, Antarctica, Europa, Tartarus, Miranda.

      I appear in the woodshop of the school in the clearing. There's another person in the room.

      "Where is my daughter?" The woman asks.

      I look around, but Sophie's nowhere to be seen.



      "Aurors and their locking spells," I mutter, pointing my ebony wand at the door. The lock clicks, and I open the door to the super-secret impenetrable Unspeakable Library. "Well, come on." I hiss at the nervous man behind me.

      The two of us shuffle into the library and quietly barricade ourselves in one of the rooms. We're pretty sure that the information we need is here.

      The man is flipping through a card catalogue, mumbling under his breath. I'm scanning the books on the shelf, but something seems out of place. I feel a presence. Thinking it's a guard, I make my way over to one of the closed doors and peer through the keyhole. I'm looking for the beam of a flashlight.

      At first, I don't see anything. The hallway is white, and bare, and dark. I look through at a different angle, and

      look directly into blood red eyes. There's no pupil, iris, sclera, it's all a murderous shade of red, and for a moment, I'm held captive by the gaze. I notice, peripherally, that she's a ghostly little girl in a tattered white dress and everything is bleeding into itself

      She flickers, like a strobe light. In and out of existence, and suddenly, she's in the room with us

      Harry is terrified, and I'm calm. The ghost is on us, tearing into our essence, and Harry is terrified but I know that there's no danger but I can feel his fear

      Everything's going dark

      And I wake up, disoriented, in a pitch black room.

      Scare Factor: 4/10

      Oh. It was a dream.

      It made sense at the time?

      Updated 10-31-2010 at 10:09 PM by 31096

      non-lucid , memorable
    9. #158. Soul Eater

      by , 09-29-2010 at 05:40 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)


      Killing from the shadows.

      I get tied up a lot. I would wonder at the Freudian implications of that, but I'm a little busy right now. What with being tied to a chair, and all. I'm at the center of an empty conference room, surrounded on all sides by bare floor space. It's almost like the huge room, with its fluorescent lights and grey carpet, is supposed to be intimidating or something. The syndicate's second in command swaggers into the room. He's an older man with greying hair, and wearing a business suit. He's confident, and self-assured, and my gods do I want to beat the smirk off of his face. He's walking towards me, and stops three feet away.

      Get closer, I dare you.

      "How is it," says the man, leaning in, "That you got in here? Our defenses should be impenetrable."

      I tilt my head to the side, deliberately widening my eyes. "Should they, really?"

      The man scowls. "You should tell us what we want to know. Things might get... unpleasant for you, otherwise."

      This is going to be the most cliched interrogation ever.

      "Hm," I pretend to think about it. "No."

      The man growls. His arm swings back, and suddenly I'm released from my bonds. I surge forward, catching him off balance, and use his arm to throw him to the floor. I'm on top of him in an instant, grabbing him by the sides of the head. I lift up, and I smash his head into the floor. The back of his skull impacts with a dull thud, and the man struggles, feebly. I lift again, smash his skull into the floor until the back of his head is a pulpy, bloody mess.

      Well, I feel better.

      I exit the room, closing the door behind me. No guards. I sense someone approaching, and I duck into a hallway running across a glass wall. Outside, I can see the city, sparkling in the night. This building is mostly office space, but that's a front for something larger. Hell, the ground floor is actually a mall, teeming with people during the day.

      The footsteps are getting closer. The guard rounds the corner next to me. I duck behind him and lock an arm behind his back, and use his momentum to push him into the window. He grunts with the impact, and cracks spiderweb across the glass. Before he can pull himself together, I'm pulling him back, away from the window. With a blast of telekinetic energy, he goes flying. The window breaks, and the man goes tumbling out into the street, several stories below.

      I run up a staircase, trying to avoid the patrolling guards. The longer I can hold off the alert, the more time my partner has to find -

      The dream is destabilizing. My surroundings are a blur of light blue and white. I feel blinded, fully aware that I won't be able to see the guards before they find me. I'm trying to hold onto the dream, and I sense it. It's a shadow, human-shaped and in the room next to me. One of the guards - his aura is completely black, and I can feel him getting closer. He solidifies as a human shadow -

      I strike out at him, hitting him in the temple. Before he has a chance to react, I have him in a full nelson, choking him. He's losing oxygen, starting to pass out.

      He doesn't have to die, I could just knock him out. Maybe I should stop killing them. This is their job, they probably have families. No. I'm just too close, physically. I'm feeling his fear. A memory washes across the surface of his mind. He's on a job, on a team with three others. Capturing a girl. They rape her.

      I freeze. I almost recoil, but the man's waking up, starting to struggle.

      A snarl of rage is coming from me, and I throw him to the ground. I disable his vocal cords with a wave of my hand, and he's inching away, trying to scream for help. I weave a wordless spell in blue, lay it over him.

      He's frozen for a moment, as he begins to lift up into the air, gravity losing its effect on him. I'm standing back now, as he starts to tug against invisible bonds. I summon another wave of energy.

      Glass shatters into thousands of pieces, and this man, too, goes flying. He's falling up, though, up and up and up, screaming soundlessly, clearing the outcropping near the top of the skyscraper, falling into the sky.

      Even if the spell fails before he hits the stratosphere, well. It's a long way down.

      Killing in the open.

      I'm surrounded. Six mooks in blue, four fighters in red, and the leader, a Djinn. Bald and muscular, covered in shifting blue tattoos, he's easily the most threatening presence in the room.

      I wave my hand, sending a wave of kinetic energy at them. Four out of six mooks have their necks snapped, dead before they hit the ground. The remaining combatants have too strong of a will to be taken out of the game so easily.

      I need a stronger spell. I call up blue-tinted soul energy, holding it in my right hand, and I rush one of the mooks and force it into his chest. I can feel his heartbeat, one, two, and the energy pulses, entwining with his soul and pulling it out of him.

      I'm counting numbers in my head: 20, 24. The numbers seem arbitrary, but they help me keep track of the soul energy. If I hit zero, I'll be powerless.

      The Djinn hits me from behind, and I can feel my numbers sink to 17. Snarling, I pull free of his grip and hit him with a pulse of the energy. He's flying backwards and I'm down to 16.

      The red-shirts are in my way, and I down two, one with each hand. Their souls pulse out and back into their bodies, frying them. I absorb the excess. 27.

      I'm ready this time. I block the Djinn, meeting his attack with a soul shield. The energy sparks dangerously with the impact, and we're both forced back, sliding several feet. 23.

      Where are the other guys? The floor is conspicuously empty. Jim Gordon is standing on the sidelines, surrounded by the remaining mooks. They've got his gun.

      Cursing, I put up an energy shield as I fry the mooks with soul energy. 7. "Run!" I shout at him, "Get the fuck out of here!"

      He's hesitating. Why is he hesitating?

      My shield is draining me. I'm blocking an attack by the Djinn. 4. "You have all the evidence we need to shut them down! You need to get out!"

      Something in my tone convinces him. He's turning on his heel and running, and I'm turning around to face the Djinn.

      "I can take care of things on this end," I say, and I let the shield drop.

      Happy endings.

      I'm walking through the building at the mall level, a skip in my step. It's daylight, and there are people around. A feeling of contentment is going through me, and I ignore the graves being built near the side entrances of the mall.

      I'm a child, and I construct a mother DC out of nothing.

      Something is coming to an end, some mystery was solved. It feels like closure.

      Scare Factor: 4/10

      On second thought, think I may have lost that fight. Djinn in the Supernatural universe "grant wishes" by trapping their victims in a dream world and sucking out their life energy. Happy ending? I don't think so.

      I think this deserves another play-through.

      (P.S. This has nothing to do with the anime of the same name.)
    10. #157. Keys to the Kingdom

      by , 09-28-2010 at 04:00 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      ...or "Taking Over a Country in Five Easy Steps".


      "Your son, your majesty, is a psychotic despot who's been running your country into the ground."

      "And you have a solution?"

      "Your youngest child went missing several years ago. You should inform your court that I have returned."

      Johanna swings the sword furiously at her attacker. Her blonde hair, braided into a plait, sweeps through the air as she ducks his return attack. She's on the defensive, frantically blocking his sword, barely avoiding being cut. The man's face is expressionless as he forces her into a corner.

      A slow clapping starts up from across the room. The attacker stills, and Johanna steps away, keeping her sword ready.

      "Bravo," says the man on the other side of the room. "You've done extraordinarily well, getting this far."

      "I'll kill you," she hisses back, not taking her eyes from the bodyguard, "For destroying my family."

      "With that sword?" asks the prince, "I think not."

      "I've fought my way through your legions," she pronounces, "Decimated them."

      "Yes," says the prince, "But then, you had someone to protect, which is the purpose of your enchanted sword. Tell me, where is your brother?"

      "He's dead," says Johanna, "Murdered by your men!" On the last word, a knife materializes in her other hand. She rushes the bodyguard, swipes down, slicing at his face.

      Blood splatters against the wall, and Johanna clutches at her throat in surprise. She falls to the ground, aware that she's bleeding out. From the corner of her eye, she can see another man emerge from the shadows. Stupid, she thinks, should have realized he would have backup...

      She's standing on a stone bridge, which spans the entirety of a mountainous valley. At the end of the bridge is a city. Blue spires reach up into the sky, and Johanna is dimly aware that she's looking at the Capitol City. This was her home, before everything. It's still peaceful. The sky is blue, and sunlight shines down, lighting up the valley and the mist with an ethereal glow. The valley is lush, full of greens and grains and enough food keep most of the kingdom from growing hungry. It's almost unbelievable, that such an awe-inspiring sight could hide such a great evil.

      "I brought you back." I tell her.

      Johanna turns to look at me. "Why?" Her face is blank, but I can hear the anguish in her voice.

      "I don't think you understand," I say slowly, "I brought you back. Nothing you've endured has happened yet. Your family is still alive."

      She's quiet for a moment, looking out over the blue lustre of the city in the distance. "What's the catch?"

      I have to smile at that. "You can prevent all of this from happening," I say, "If you do exactly as I say."

      plots to pacify the population with the latest crop of sweet potato, wading through water fields under the bridge

      I'm standing in a stone building (opulence, splendor) at the centre of the city. I know the precise moment that it happens, because it feels like a string is being cut. And just like that, destiny has been rewritten. The prince is dead, long live the prince.

      A cell phone chimes in my pocket. I answer on the third ring.

      "Hello, 'Father'," I say, irony in my tone. "So, when is my coronation?"

      Scare Factor: 3/10

      Wait, wait. Your crown prince is an evil sociopath, so you want my dream self to rule instead? Good luck with that.

      1. Establish yourself as an heir to the throne.
      2. Find someone who wants the prince dead.
      3. Bring them back in time.
      4. Assassinate the prince.
      5. How old was the king, again?
    11. #156. The Demon Boy

      by , 09-27-2010 at 05:33 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)


      If my hair keeps changing colour in the pictures, it's because that's what it tends to do IRL.


      Fragment about going to my (late) grandma's church for a Halloween party. There were some really cool decorations. A distinct lack of alcohol, however.

      I'm in the front entrance to our house. Everything seems normal, and I do a routine reality check just because. I count my fingers. Onetwothreefour... new ones start sprouting. Well, that's weird. It's almost like I'm dreaming or something.

      I try again, and I get to seven before I give up. Obviously I am dreaming. So... Nomad's task. I need to get to a forest. I jump out the nearest window into the front yard. My brother is there, hanging out with a DC from the Halloween party. Definitely dreaming, then, and whoa...

      The dream is destabilizing. The entire world tilts on its axis, and white lines start running parallel to every object in the scene, as they do in Assassin's Creed. I stop to take a breath, keeping my eyes open, and I start touching the objects around me. I kneel down and touch the grass, the concrete driveway, a metal railing, and I'm back.

      I decide that the best way to get there is to run in a straight line. There's a forest directly to the south, I convince myself. I cross the street at a run, hit the wall with one foot, and leap onto the brown-shingled roof.

      I don't stop. From the first house, I jump onto the roof of the next. Keep moving. I land on some kind of antennae, and the structure sways dangerously as I make the jump to the next structure.

      I'm on a scaffold. The next building - a warehouse - is an impossible distance away, several feet higher than the platform I'm jumping from, and twenty feet away. I jump the gap, and I'm suspended in the air.

      I pull at my momentum, bending the dream to allow me a few more meters in height - and I grasp the edge of the roof. I pull myself up near the chimney. On the other side of the warehouse is a big camping tent set up in someone's backyard. I jump. I land on the tent, and it cushions my fall, billowing out around me. My vision is filled with yellow and red, and I think hard, imagining the demon boy I'm supposed to rescue, and the dark thing that's after him...

      The forest is oppressively quiet. I can smell the pine, feel the hot mugginess created by a recent rain. Fully immersed in my character, I stand in the center of a huge clearing, waiting.

      A flash of red goes zooming by. I've found Nomad's demon boy. I'm slightly disappointed. I was hoping I could use this opportunity to discover Amon's origin (a DC I've apparently mentored throughout his life). Instead, it's just a regular demon.

      He's being chased by a wolf. I recognize the creature as an entity from my childhood nightmares. It's back, and I'll have to deal with that eventually. For now, I allow the demon child to distract it.

      I spot a piece of paper on the ground near a pond. Picking it up, I skim the text. Instructions from Nomad on what to do next.

      Did you save the demon boy? Y/N

      I look up across the clearing. The demon is running as fast as he can, frantically trying to get away from my nightmare creature. The wolf is gleefully giving chase. I'm not sure whether he's actually any danger, or if he's just toying with the demon. Either way, I have no interest in rescuing the child.

      Did you propose to the barmaid? Y/N

      I look at the paper, and blink. And blink again. No, WakingNomad, I did not propose to the barmaid. Although, I should pay a visit to Denn sometime in the near future.

      Scare Factor: 3

      Also, this result amused me.

      Updated 11-10-2014 at 01:37 AM by 31096

      lucid , memorable
    12. #150. Aliens

      by , 09-20-2010 at 06:04 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      "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

      Updated 11-10-2014 at 01:38 AM by 31096

      non-lucid , memorable
    13. #148. Lost

      by , 09-19-2010 at 05:57 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      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.


      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

      Updated 09-20-2010 at 02:18 AM by 31096

      lucid , non-lucid , memorable
    14. #134. Transformation

      by , 08-29-2010 at 04:52 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)

      I'm in a nightclub, laughing at something a woman is saying. We have to shout to be heard. There are strobe lights, black lights, and coloured lights changing in time with the music. It's great fun, and utterly normal. There's a lot of alcohol involved.

      I spot the tattoo while I'm sitting at the bar. A woman walks by, wearing a top that reveals her torso. There are Chinese characters tattooed above her navel and to the side, which translate in my mind to "Transformation". I leave the club.

      The tattoo represents a group that I belonged to in a previous life, a school of martial artists. I need to find out what the hell they're doing here, in my city.

      It's daylight. The group has rented out the local campground, and set up a temporary building. When I step inside, I find that the interior is open and airy and entirely out of place. It's set up like a dojo martial arts studio, with hardwood floors and paper windows along the back. The students are lined up, practicing their forms. An old man stands at the front of the classroom. I step into the midst of the group, beside a young woman whose hair is pulled into a high ponytail. I flow through the familiar movements, as easily as I did centuries ago.

      We come to a stop, and I turn to the woman beside me. "Master Lin," I say, inclining my head respectfully.

      She laughs, and the rest of the group files out of the room, following the old man. "Am I a Master?" she asks, eyes twinkling. "You are here to see Princess ___, yes?" She says the name of the princess, but my mind automatically translates it to the English "Blossom".

      I meet her in front of a waterfall. She's on the other side of a narrow stone path, caged on one side by a raging river, and on the other by a treacherous fall. Her long hair flies free in a gentle breeze, and her silk gown flows with the air currents. She turns to look at me, smiling, and I read trickery in her bright aura.

      End Recall.

      Scare Factor: 2/10
      Rating: 5/10

      Hey, Subconscious! China =/= Japan.
    15. #130. Mugging the Monster

      by , 08-27-2010 at 05:43 AM (Things to Run Away From Really Fast)
      I'm baaack.

      Quote Originally Posted by #1. First Appearances
      It's dark, and I'm surrounded by beautiful, frightening living statues made of shadow... twisted, slender, lethal. I want to remember them when I wake up, because they're mine.

      The Monster of the Week gets in over its head.

      This dream takes place in my old apartment building in Ixburg. The suite is a floor down from where I actually used to live, and it's been refitted with giant windows. It has a balcony with a fire exit, and the place is spacious and airy. Which is fortunate, because I live there with a group of people, and we're all sleeping together.

      I'm alone in the bedroom when I see it. A presence has been on the edges of my consciousness for a while now, and it finally coalesces into a physical form. It's a black statue, shiny and carved out of something like obsidian or onyx. It's vaguely humanoid, but it's a simplified form. It has a somewhat bulbous head, but the rest of it is sleek, almost liquid.

      Time speeds up, and I watch life continue in fast-forward. The other people in the apartment don't notice the statue at all. I have the feeling that it's been there for some time, and the fact that I can see it now means nothing good.

      Ignoring the others going about their day, I stand up from the bed and walk over to the statue. It's immobile, but I can feel a dark presence.

      It's moving. The statue bends an arm back, quick as lightening, and stabs forward. My mouth falls open in an involuntary gasp, and I see myself being impaled on the thing's arm, its hand reaching out through my lower back. I come to the sudden, horrible realization that I'm a sacrifice, and the only person who lives here that meets the requirements. Golden white light streams into my vision, claiming everything, and I feel myself fall back, completely detached from my physical form.

      It's like being in the blue-white light from previous dreams, but this feels more like home, more a part of myself. I'm searching for something, cataloguing information that my conscious mind can't comprehend. And I feel it.

      The "statue" exists before me as an infinitesimal dark speck, a mote of dust. The thing before me, the spirit inside the statue, I reach out - no, I don't even have to reach out. Just by existing in this state, I snuff out its tiny little black soul.

      The light falls away, and I'm left standing in the apartment, completely intact. The dark presence is gone, and I allow myself a glimmer of satisfaction.

      There's a reason they call me the Lightbringer.

      Mugging the Monster. Scare Factor: 2.

      Updated 08-29-2010 at 04:57 AM by 31096

      non-lucid , memorable
    Page 1 of 3 1 2 3 LastLast