non-lucid

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.

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

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

My imagination is running away with itself.

08/20/10



The setting is a town in a post-apocalyptic landscape. The few remaining adults are being picked off one by one, killed by things they can't even see. The surviving children are being drawn towards the town hall, where a dark force promises them protection.

I follow the point of view of a little girl whose father is killed in front of her. We don't see what kills him, but his arm explodes suddenly in a fountain of blood, and she's running, tripping, looking for somewhere she can be safe.

She crawls through the wreckage and finally finds them. A dozen or more children are gathered, underground, in a circular concrete bunker. In the center of the group is a demon, an inhuman little imp that looks especially pleased with itself.

It calls itself the Devil.

- time skip -

The children are running.

I materialize in the first person, cornering the creature as I do. It cowers as I place my hands on the concrete wall, one hand on each side of its head, boxing it in.

"Do you know," I ask conversationally, "How many lives I've been through? How many times I've done the same things over and over again?"

- faces i'm too close to fighting a war that doesn't mean anything hand to hand combat a peaceful mountain landscape and i'm teaching them to kill -

"You don't have any idea," I say, meeting the thing's terrified eyes and smiling widely, "What Hell is."

End recall.

Scare Factor: 4/10
Rating: 6/10

The quote's more or less verbatim. I get a bit too caught up in my characters sometimes. Also, flashbacks can be incredibly freaky.

08/17/10



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.

08/15/10



I stand on a narrow walkway, facing off against the creature I've been hunting. It's been hiding among the humans, wearing the face of a beautiful redhead. Right now, she's snarling, defensive, and her fangs are in full view. The Doctor, meanwhile, is hovering over my shoulder, looking like he might intervene.

I'm distracted for just a moment, and the vampire turns her back and jumps off the landing.

I glance back at him. Wordlessly, we agree on a course of action. The Doctor moves away from the edge, goes back into the main building to save the day.

I survey the area, quickly. It's a six-story drop, at least. It dimly registers that I'm dreaming, and before I can change my mind, I'm jumping after her.

The ground rushes up to meet me. I hit the tile floor, narrowly missing a set of wooden pews. I look around, noting that I'm in the sanctuary of a large church.

End recall.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 6/10

This one's not very exciting.

08/28/10



We're speeding down the river, and I'm at the front of the boat, grinning and clutching my paddle in a death grip. Spray from the river hits my face and I blink against it. We hit a bump in the water -

We're no longer in a boat. Our group - made up of my immediate family - glides through the calm water of the last stretch. We're sitting on what appears to be an oversized crazy-carpet. It's purple.

We float past the finish line and climb out of the water. I think we placed third. We have to wait for the rest of the contestants, so we go inside a cabin filled with picnic tables.

I take a beer from one of our coolers and twist open the lid. My cousins are gathering at one of the tables, so I go sit with them.

I'm holding a plastic cup. Inside is a pet - a tiny swimming thing that could be either a plant or an animal. It looks a bit like an anemone. I'm showing it to the others and it's growing before our eyes. At one point, we're playing with it, and it grabs onto a lock of my hair (that has mysteriously grown long). It's pulling on it, but I tell my cousins not to worry, it doesn't hurt.

My preteen cousin takes a knife and cuts the creature's orange tentacles off at the root. It flails and falls back into the cup of water.

"Deanna, what did you do that for?" I ask shrilly. I take a second to glare at her, then turn back to the cup and will it to start growing. The creature has to grow roots and sprout before it can swim again.

I keep doing this until the sun sets.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 2/10

I'm baaack.

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.

08/26/10



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.

08/11/10



I'm travelling through a village. Their level of technology seems medieval at best. A little girl is suspected of being a witch. I help her escape.

We wander up a path through an idyllic countryside, hilly and covered in green. I lead and the girl, ten or so, trails slightly behind me. The hinges of the wooden gate creak as they move, and I hold the gate open. The girl shrieks in delight and runs onto the field. A dark brown horse is running towards us. It has odd, light-coloured streaks painted across its side. As it approaches the girl, it slows down. The girl jumps up and down, asking if she can ride it.

"He doesn't like anyone, even me." I say, studying the horse. I smile when the horse snorts. "Especially me. I think he might like you, though."

The girl climbs on the horse's back, and the two of them gallop across the fenced enclosure.

Later, we're sitting inside a log cabin that resembles a barn. The black horse is now a black owl, perched on a railing. I sit across from him, and we watch the girl explore the building as we talk. She runs back over to us, smiling as she sits down on the couch.

"We're going to have to winter-proof the house if she's going to stay with you." I tell the owl seriously.

The girl turns into a bird. I catch the bundle of feathers between my hands, gently. "You are far too domesticated." I tell her.

I will the cracks in the wall to close, making the wood grow back together, sealing out the wind.

It's winter the next time I return to the cabin. We play on the hill, sliding down packed snow and laughing.

Shapeshifting Children. Scare Factor: 1.

08/09/10



I'm standing in the shadows, talking quietly with the owner of a tavern. I lean casually against the open door frame, and the owner seems nervous, as if he'd very much like to tell me to leave. I ask him for information on my target, an older man who knows secrets that someone is paying to keep hidden.

The front door slams open, and most of the bar turns to look. My target is standing at the center of attention, panting. He looks around nervously.

I put a finger to my lips, warning the owner to keep silent, and step back into the night. Remotely, I see the man look at the open side door, before shaking his head and descending the stairs at the center of the room. I walk into the bar, through the front door this time. The target turns around and eyes me suspiciously, but my dark brown cloak is unremarkable, and I'm making my way to the bar.

When he turns a corner, I'm down the stairs after him. I see him slip into the dormitories, the beds that the tavern rents out, and I enter the room after him. He's not there. Unconcerned, I head towards the bed that an old woman, who used to work for the tavern, said was his the last time he stayed here. I strip the bed and see subtle signs of stitching at the seams. I rip into the mattress, sending stuffing across the room, and taking what's hidden there.

The stack of papers is old, but well preserved. I focus on the title.

These are the carvings of the things I saw.

The rest of the information needs to be translated. I carefully place the manuscript in my bag and fasten it shut, slinging the bag across my shoulder.

The old man must have escaped through the Shadow Ways (portals?), but I have what I need. I walk down the hallway and find an exact copy of the room I just left. I think about searching it, but decide that the phenomenon is entirely normal, since this is a dream.

What one person will pay to keep hidden, others will go to any length to reveal. Curious and excited, I take the stairs to the main floor, ready to meet my contact.

Questions. Scare Factor: 2.

I didn't get to find out what the manuscript was, and I wasn't lucid even though I knew I was dreaming. What a frustrating ending.

08/07/10

I hum a little bit, smirking as the crowd of terrified DCs shrinks away.

"Look at these people," I sing, walking down blue-lit steps, "Amazing how sheep'll show up for the slaughter..."

I hit the wrong notes. Annoyed, I start over.



Slipping. Scare Factor: 2.

This was probably inspired by the conversation I had with Mzzkc the other day, saying I couldn't remember lyrics during dreams. Apparently my subconscious took offense.

Funny thing. A couple days ago, I couldn't find the can opener. Now, I have a swiss army knife with a can opener, so I reached into my pocket to find it. I knew that it wasn't in my pocket, but I figured I could will it there.

Wait.

I reality checked and realized that I was awake.

Boring dreams ahead.

08/06/10

I wake up, hearing the phone ring. I stumble out of bed, cursing because I was planning to sleep in and order room service.

Oh, yeah. I'm staying in a hotel. I've been driving for a really long time, and I'm in a big city in the US, I think.

Where is that damn phone? I run out of the hotel room and into the living room. There are a bunch of blue-uniformed maids in there, standing in a circle and gossiping. I ignore them, vaulting over the couch to get to the cordless phone in the far corner of the room.

I pick it up on the last ring, and the answering machine clicks on. The tone goes off, and my uncle Roy starts to leave a message.

"Hey, there. We thought you'd be in town, so -"

"I'm here, Uncle Roy. What's up?"

Roy tells me that the rest of the family is in town, and they want me to come have dinner with them. I tell him, stiffly, that that would be fine. Really.

"Great. We'll pick you up in a half hour."

I try to protest, but he hangs up before I can. Sighing, I hang up the phone, wondering if I have enough time to order room service before I leave. Chances are, nothing my family is serving will be vegetarian.

I'll have to survive on the side dishes, though. I'd rather have a shower.

The rooms have morphed into a hostel-like configuration, with a shared bathroom and living space. Kitchen, too. I rush into the shower before an older woman can take it, and she stalks away, sulking.

When I get out of the shower, at least four of my relatives, all women from my mother's side of the family, are doing dishes in the kitchen. I tell my grandma to leave them alone, since those aren't my dishes, but whatever.

I'm at the supper when I realize my grandma died a few years ago. I rationalize this by deciding that the woman must be her sister (but I use my great grandmother's name).

***

I'm on a ski hill. My skis keep crossing.

I remember that I wanted to go on a hike. One of the trails leading up the mountain will take me to a part where it's summer.

I go to drop off my skis in a locker, then head over to the chair lift. A preteen girl is nervous about getting on the lift, but her family is coaxing her on.

***

I'm wandering around, taking down my posters. They all have writing on them, which is research for the high school newsletter I apparently publish. I'm worried about finishing it before the summer break next week.

The building is supposed to be high school, but it looks more like my old university campus.

I posted a map of the ski resort from the previous dream, but it's a really bad photocopy. A memory plays through the room. A teacher speculates on the source of the posters.

Potluck. Scare Factor: 1.

08/05/10

I hardly remember anything from last night. The first time I fell asleep, I experienced a few hypnagogic hallucinations, one of which formed into an actual coherent scene. I was talking to a recurring DC, although I don't remember which one, and I remember agreeing to something that I probably shouldn't have.

I snapped out of the hallucination, but couldn't remember any details.

The only real dream I have a vague memory of was talking to Castiel, who seemed a bit stressed out. A few flashes of wandering around a sandy-coloured city.

Deals. Scare Factor: 3.