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This feels like only the beginning of a story arc. I'm going to tell this dream in two parts, the first was a dream from my adolescent journal, the second was from adulthood. I never had much interest at all in samurai and Japanese maritime culture, as I've mentioned in my other journals, and yet this theme keeps returning with vengeance. I'm always sabotaging the plans of aliens I meet as well, benevolent and malevolent alike.

--- --- --- --- ---

Dream #1 - May 2008

The beginnings of the dream are blurred. I was running. I don't know why and I don't know where I was going. A few other escapees fled with me. It was important that they didn't see us. I knew it would only be minutes before they appeared. We arrived at the river bank in my home town. Perfect, this was my turf, I knew how to blend in. It was as my friend as me where we should go, when a group of our pursuers appeared from around a corner. One of them was dressed in the armour of a samurai, but I somehow doubted that that's what he truly was. Despite the fact that we were enemies, I couldn't help sensing that we had a mutual understanding of each other. I was worried that could play to my disadvantage, but luckily they did not see us.

The dream shifted and I was a soldier fighting an uphill battle. Neither side was gaining ground and we were both gradually losing troops. We managed to take the school on the hill top which was overlooking the ocean and the enemy's home islands. A flying saucer sat silently nearby. I entered to find a man I knew well. He was one of our enemies and despite claiming that he wanted peace, he was only after victory. He told me that he was going to take any people who wanted to leave to his land where they would have a much better life. I didn't believe him and quickly left.

I walked through the environment until suddenly I realised that the Samurai was behind me. We both drew our swords, prepared to fight, and the battle began. I had trained hard for this but his skills were incredible. He was fast but strong and could predict my moves before I made them. I could barely defend myself from his blows. I decided to use my ability, and suddenly turned invisible. Even though he could not see me, he still managed to block every single one of my attacks all while lecturing me on 'fighting dirty'. I kept up the barrage without success.

It was then that he brought his leg up and attempted to kick me in the stomach. He knew that if I bled I couldn't remain invisible! He kicked at me again and again until eventually I flinched long enough for him to draw his dagger and plunge it into my side. The invisibility fell. I removed the dagger and broke into a run, realising that I couldn't win. I dashed up an embankment, turning invisible again in an attempt to flee.
"So predictable," I heard him say aloud as he followed. I looked down at my hands and realised that the invisibility was no longer working. I reached the top of the embankment and climbed up onto a balcony, hoping he would run past below and I would be able to slip away, but he knew exactly where I was. He stood beneath me and looked up. I expected him to continue his attack, but he stopped, nodded in acknowledgement, and then walked away.

I ran back to the alien saucer and slipped into the control room. The man's plans were the crash the ship into the school with dozens of my own people aboard. I changed its pre-flight path to the enemy island and ran into the cabin to drag my friends off this suicide ship. When I told them what I knew they didn't believe me. I could hear the countdown in the background and they still refused to move, so I pushed them off. I pulled the man into a headlock and leapt off the saucer as it rose into the air and promptly smashed into the island. My people cheered, but in all the confusion, the man had escaped again.

--- --- --- --- ---

Remember the Japanese whaling ships from the Temple of Apollo and the small dream-town in Tasmania? It gets relevant.

Dream 2 - November 2015

I was in a darkened building with many others. The dream was hazy and indistinct, and then suddenly I realised that I was in a single room alone and the visuals became very crisp and focused. This whole house was mine. The room was empty, but the moments sitting in silence without distractions fixed my cohesion. I was aware that people may be able to see me through the huge windows. I went to close the blinds, but then changed my mind, and pushed out through the doors. The call to adventure was answered.

I was living opposite the city cemetery. It was night time, but I could see clearly. I wandered the dream world for a while, speaking to my friends and investigating the detailed houses that lined the street. As I wandered, I eventually came to a sunlit park full of people. Some wandered the paths and some sat on the benches, enjoying the beautiful weather.

The dream transitioned while I was here. I found myself on a steep, grassy hillside and knew instantly that I have been moved. I tried to right myself and teleport back, but I could not change location. I looked up towards the top of the bluff. A samurai was waiting for me. I walked up to him, and he turned around in silence, leading me over the crest of the hill. On the cliff-side above us were vast rock paintings left here from a previous civilisation. There were humans mingling with winged bird-like creatures. They reminded me of djinn from Sumerian mythology. I looked around, amazed at the vividness of my surroundings.

The samurai led along the bluff until a small Japanese town came into view. It is nestled along the coast line, a fishing village. There were a few high-rise buildings constructed out of bamboo and light materials. I asked him what one of the buildings was for and he said that it was a place for doctors. I could see people awakening on Japanese-style futons within the rooms, and others receiving massage treatment from practitioners. I did not know much about their culture, but felt blessed to have such an excellent guide. He took me down into the town. We passed by the open doorways of peoples' homes. The townsfolk here were all wary of me. I stopped in the middle of a complex of washing lines, quite content with the idea of living here and becoming a part of the town. Sheets billow in the breeze, suspended all around me. I am introduced to a wise old man, who speaks with the samurai, and a strangely familiar male youth comes out to join us.

The dream fades and changes. One rather mundane dream in between I have omitted. I wish it had all ended there, and not in the way it does. I am on an airport runway, walking back to the terminal. My family is here, but they are like puppets; intangible, not at all right. They don't fit in with the scene. It is more solid than they are. They rush ahead, and then return, changing my direction.
"We're going the wrong way," I say.
"No, no. We are going to get on this plane," they say as a single unit. I start following them, but become so sluggish. Movement is so difficult. I am drained of energy, my feet begin to drag, my speech is slurred. One of the flight assistants opens the tape so I may step past. My family were faders in comparison and I cannot see them now. I try to say something, but I am so groggy, and fall away fatigued. My energy is gone. I have been fooled, but am not even allowed to see the face of my attacker.

--- --- --- --- ---

Dream 3 - December 2015

Only a fragment from a larger, hazy dream. My friends invited me to their cabins, but I arrive and realise it was only a gesture and that they weren't really interested in spending time with me. I leave and along my way, I encounter the Samurai again. This dream is not like the others. It is not vivid, and feels more like a normal subconscious dream. A montage plays out. I am male, and have been training with him for many months. I have been wearing heavy armour that he bestowed upon me throughout our training. It looks very fierce, with spikes lining the leg guards and pauldrons. It is impractical and actually inhibits my abilities, but I persist. My talents develop, and when I eventually remove the armour, I am stronger than ever.

I am myself again. We are walking down a street together in silence.
'I am dreaming!' I suddenly think to myself excitedly, but the dream is too hazy and unstable, and it is lost.

I'm scaling a steep cliff on the side of a mountain fortress with a large group of medieval soldiers seeking to take over the castle up ahead. It is a difficult climb, and all progress is halted as the defenders unleash a massive deluge of boiling hot oil that spashes down the cliff. Fortunately, it's steep enough that we just press ourselves flat into the rock, and the oil flows just over us all, missing us by just a few feet. Then some sort of god flies out of the castle and levitates above the stone walls as he laughs at us. He thinks it is barely worth his concern, but nevertheless throws a few fire balls at us. Several people are killed instantly.

He looks over at me, and now seems threatened somewhat. With a spin, he disappears from sight, and I am immediately teleported to a small town inside the castle walls. Somehow we breached the castle and there is utter chaos as people are running everywhere. It turns out everyone is running because there is an army of Djinns (the kind from the show 'Supernatural') - a kind of genie that puts people to sleep, fulfilling all their wishes in their dreams while draining their blood and killing them in the process. Just one is scary, but there are over a hundred here.

I am immediately surrounded by about a dozen of them. I'm not quite sure what to do about this. Before I come up with a plan, one of the female Djinns (and quite an attractive one I may add) tells the others to step aside and watch. She holds out her hand and uses telekinesis to spin my body around. I want to fight it, but just go limp as all my muscles relax. She softly lays my body on the packed dirt ground and closes my eyes all with telekinesis. This is the part where the nice dream is supposed to start. I'm given a moment to choose, but can't decide what to dream about.

The moment is gone, and there will be no pleasant dreams for me apparently. Since the Djinns are psychic, they know that I'm awake in my body, even though my eyes are closed and I cannot move it. I can still feel everything. They take delight in knowing that I'll be able to feel all the pain of being slowly drained of blood until I die, with nothing I can do about it. I feel a sharp stabbing pain as a large gauge needle is roughly stabbed into my arm.

Rather than languish in pain as I am slowly killed, I imagine that I'm someone else. Someone very alive, and experiencing blissfully pleasant feelings. I know it's not real, but I decide to believe it anyway because the more I do, the more real it becomes, and the more this excruciating painful death seems like a distant memory than a current reality.

Right before I fully switch to being someone else, I wake up.

★★★★☆

09/28/10



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.)

I feel like I'm writing bad fanfiction subconsciously. I find it interesting that in the past two months I've had several dreams that carry on from previous ones.

Also, more Lucifer.

07/23/10

Castiel gets captured. I offer to help with the rescue.

"Let him go, you bitch!" I shout.

"Oh, Dean," says Lilith. "You don't understand. You've already lost."

I hate losing.

I throw myself back through the dream, back through the sewers that lead to the Hellmouth, zooming back over flooded streets and abandoned rafts and into a warehouse that I fought my way through not long ago.(1)

I arrive before Sam and Dean Winchester ever found themselves ambushed here, taking up precious time in our search. I can't afford that loss again.

A man is kneeling on the floor at the center of the warehouse. His face and arms are bare, and I can see designs swirling everywhere on his exposed flesh in patterns of black and blue. The tattooed man paints symbols on the floor, dipping his fingers into a wooden bowl filled with something red and sticky.



"Damian Masters." I say tonelessly. My voice reverberates through the building. Damian stands up, startled, and I step out of the shadows.

"Who are you?" He rasps, panicked.

"Have you ever heard the name 'Samael'?" I ask him.

He shakes his head.

"I'm an angel." I manage to say it with a straight face.

Damian falls to the ground and bows his head. I try not to let my irritation show. "What can I do?"

"We have need of Dean Winchester," I say importantly. "Allow him to leave. Kill the other one."

"Of course," he breathes, "The boy with the demon blood."

I walk across the room, deliberately scuffing the blood sigil where it won't be noticed. I roll my eyes. "So mote it be." I say in a mocking tone.

***

Dean steps onto the oversized raft, stumbling a little as it bobs under his weight. He turns around and catches the knife Sam throws at him. He breathes out slowly once he catches his balance again. (2)

"Watch it, Sam. I don't want to go diving for this stuff." He rubs his eyes and sighs. "Be careful."

"You're doing the dangerous part," says Sam, rolling his eyes. "I'm just casting the spell here because it's on the right ley lines."

"Other people thought so, too," warns Dean. "That blood on the floor still looks fresh."

"Get on with it, Dean. Castiel's not getting out of Hell on his own."

Dean unties the rope from the pier and casts off, sending his brother a sarcastic two-finger salute. Sam grins and salutes back. He only watches Dean drift off for a moment, carried by the current through the flooded city. He picks up a canvas bag and spreads its contents over a table, ready to start the ritual.

He gets so caught up in his task that he almost ignores the little warning voice that goes off in his head. He dodges to the side as a fireball slams into the table, sending his ritual ingredients up in flames. Sparing no time for disappointment, he runs over to where the guns should be, only to find them... gone.

He turns around to face the other man. The tattooes on his face and arms, Sam thinks, they probably let him manipulate energy. The man's face is twisted into a triumphant grin, and Sam looks down, realizing he's at the center of the blood sigil on the floor. The tattooed man raises a hand, covered in glowing swirls, and presses it to the concrete.

***

His raft floats through the flooded city, guided by a spellbound current. The shadows of buildings jut out of the water, reaching toward the orange sky as if in their death throes. Barnacles cling to the rotting and rusting wood and steel. Some of the buildings have collapsed in on themselves, leaving twisted metal sitting low to the water. Dean steers carefully around them.



"Dean Winchester, yeah?"

Dean spins around with the knife raised. "Yeah? And who are you?"

The boat tips a little, and I look back at him, unimpressed. "I'm here to help," I say with a smile. "You can call me Lucy. Things will get confusing, otherwise."

"Really. Okay, Lucy," says Dean, "Why should I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't," I tell him honestly, "But I owe Castiel a favour, and I pay my debts."

Dean eyes me suspiciously, but he lowers the knife.

"Excellent." I say. "Now, we have a problem."

"Of course we do."

"Castiel's vessels have gone missing."

"His vessel? The guy he's possessing?"

"The daughter as well. You haven't met them yet?"(3) I receive an uncomprehending stare as my answer. "Whatever. He needs a vessel, and you're it." A pause. "Don't look at me like that, it's only temporary."

"Why not you?" asks Dean, "That'd be a good way to pay back your 'debt', wouldn't it?"

"How many humans do you know that can teleport onto a raft in the middle of nowhere?" I ask impatiently. "I'm an occupied vessel; it doesn't work that way."

Dean is silent as I latch onto the decorative post of a balcony and bring the raft to a stop. "We're hee-ere," I sing-song quietly, stepping onto the concrete deck. Dean shoots me a look, hand hovering near the gun concealed under his jacket.

We step through the archway, into a cobblestone hallway filled with rot and mold. Dean's nose scrunches in distaste, but I can't smell anything. A rusted metal ladder is built into the opposite wall, and I make a motion towards it. Be my guest.

Dean eyes the ladder. "I thought we were going into the sewers."

"We are." I confirm. Dean looks at me askance, and I roll my eyes. "We're walking towards a gateway to Hell! You can't expect reality to work properly."

Dean makes a disbelieving noise, but moves to the ladder and starts climbing up it. I follow a few seconds behind, looking up to track Dean's progress.

Wow. Those are some really nice jeans.

Climbing up brings us a level down, and we trudge through muddy water and orange-lit brick until we find an opening in the wall. Dean and I stand on either side of it, catching our breath and shaking out our shoes.

"Are you ready?" I ask. "Lilith's on the other side."

"Ready as I'll ever be." Dean shoots me a grin. We step through the opening.

It's bright. The gateway is orange-white, shedding the room with stark light and bleaching out the red brick. Lilith stands near the doorway, hands clasped loosely over her white dress. Her blonde hair flutters in a non-existant breeze.

I squint against the light. "Claire Novak?" I say incredulously. "Oh, irony of ironies. Nice one, Lilith."



The little girl smiles pleasantly. "I thought it was fitting, using an angelic vessel as my own." She holds a hand up to the light, studying her fingers. "It was actually quite simple to burn out the angelic protections."

"You're borrowing from Azazel." I muse, "His bastardising the Winchester line."

"Demon blood," snaps Dean. "Can we get on with it? If this is a seal, what did you need an angel for?"

"An angel?"

"Castiel." I supply helpfully.

Lilith laughs, her voice clear and deceptively innocent. "Oh, of course," she says, "Heaven has him, and I have no more need of opening seals. Lucifer walks the earth."

"What?"

"Castiel's superiors were unhappy with his exercising free will," I state calmly. "They're currently re-educating him."(4)

Dean rounds on me. "Whose side are you on?"

"Huh. Good question. I'm still going to need at least one of the vessels." I say to Lilith.

"Can we go back to the bit where Lucifer is free?"

"Dean, your presence is extraneous at the moment," I say, tilting my head sideways as I look at Lilith's teenage meatsuit. "Shut up."

Dean looks about ready to hit me, but I wave a hand and he collapses.

"My lord?" says Lilith carefully.

"Not today." I say, "Tell me, what is it you're after?"

"The end of all things." She responds immediately. "The apocalypse, which you are destined to bring about." (5)

I smile as I approach her. "Destiny," I say, placing a hand on her head, "Is bullshit."

Lilith's demonic form - grey and wispy and spiralling out of control - is forced out of Claire Novak's body. The light grey smoke hurtles toward the Hellmouth, screaming. It stills a second, pulling with all its might against the vortex, before succumbing to the orange-white light, falling back into Hell. The gate closes, dousing the room in shadow.

I will definitely regret doing that at some point.

I push the thought from my mind. In the next moment, I'm pulling on an incorporeal thread, tearing Castiel away from the torments of Heaven and back into human form. Blinding white light fills the room once more, before focusing on the girl.

Castiel opens her eyes.

"Lucifer," she says magnanimously.

I grin. "Hey, Cas. You should probably go rescue your other vessel. And Sam Winchester. Dean's fine," I say, seeing Castiel look over at the unconscious man.

There's an awkward pause.

"Why did you -"

"You let me go." I say, "Now we're even." (6)

I disappear without another word.

Castiel stares at the spot for a moment, before going over to Dean and tapping him on the forehead.

***

When Castiel appears back at the warehouse, supporting a groggy Dean Winchester, Sam is leaning against a table with his arms crossed, facing the tattooed man. The man is currently trussed up and tied to a chair, his head lolling at an awkward angle. Sam doesn't take his eyes off him.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Dean demands, inconspicuously taking his weight off of Castiel's shoulders.

"I have no idea," says Sam, "He attacked me, tried to activate a blood sigil." In response to Dean's worried look, Sam shrugs. "It didn't work," he says, "The outer circle was broken."

"Well, that was lucky," says Dean, sounding suspicious. "Anyway, we've got bad news. Cas?" He looks around, only to realize that Castiel is already gone. "Damn it."

Devil in the Gateway. Scare Factor: 4.

1. This dream continued on from a previous one that I don't properly recall. I think I was Dean. Sam and I fought Masters, the tattooed man in the warehouse, but it slowed us down considerably. Sam still stayed behind to do the ritual, but it completely screwed things up for us. When I replayed the dream, I kept Masters from attacking Dean, and sabotaged the ritual at the same time. I think.

2. A good portion of this dream was in the third person. My character wasn't spying so much as I was watching cutscenes.

3. Supernatural 4x20 "The Rapture", which aired over a year ago. We meet Castiel's human host, Jimmy Novak, and his family. Claire, the daughter, is briefly possessed as well.

4. Actually happened in the TV series. Same episode.

5. This was Lilith's motivation in Mike Carey's Lucifer comic series.

6. I can't believe I remembered that. According to this dream, Castiel let me beat him in our last fight. I resent the implication.

In other complaints, why is teleporting so easy during non-lucids?

Also, I haven't been online much for the past couple of weeks. Summertime! I'll do my best to get caught up with everyone's DJ entries.