Recent DJ Posts

Recall: 1/10. WTB 4am, woke 10am. All night on waking I had the impression of complex dreams but could not recall even the broad outlines. At one point there was a fragment of Japanese in my head: play between the words "iro iro" (which I think means "various") and "iru" (infinitive of "to be"). After final sleep had the vague impression of seeing places on a map, and was sure that I had dreamed something urban and apocalyptic... but I cannot seem to find the thread.

10:45am. Took a shower, still trying to remember. At first I thought the hot water was a distraction, but after a few minutes something flashed into mind and I murmured: "I was in the woods."

I was in the woods. There was at least one other person, and we were digging for something. And then another entity approached us. I have the impression that he usually drove a horse and carriage, but at the time of our encounter he was on foot. I recognized him as something terrifying and supernatural. He had a name, the everyday kind some boogeymen develop in folklore, consisting of an adjective and a common first name. The adjective might have been "dark"; I don't remember the name. I have the impression he had a stunted body, a normal-sized male torso on short and shriveled legs.

When I saw this creature on the forest path, I recognized the terror and danger he represented, and then the strangest thing happened: on a whim, I ran up and hugged him! And as this was happening, I was thinking wryly to myself, "If I were lucid, would I dare to do this? I don't think so!" Somehow I managed to have this thought without being lucid in the slightest—I guess you could say it was dream awareness without memory or agency. However, there might have been a touch of dream memory, even if WL memory was absent: my comment was in reference to an incident that occurred several years when I was lucid, and my intended task was to approach a fae spirit, but the one I glimpsed in the distance was so creepy that all she did was glance in my direction and I started running away as fast as I could!

Fragment involving Ben Affleck and people complaining about a Fantastic Four movie.

(Woke up. Back to sleep.)

X-Men fragment involving Erik and Charles (as played by McKellan and Stewart) having an argument about something involving a young man, a mutant who lives with them; one of them leaves with the young man. Scene changes so that this is a movie I'm watching, I'm explaining to someone who just came in that this was the last time they saw each other for 9 years. On screen, it's now some kind of opening credits for the Avengers showing various backstories, some actual Avengers characters (Loki, Banner, "Hawkguy", deliberately misspelled - nothing for Iron Man though he shows up later for the fight sequence), mostly characters made up for the dream, one guy with a Buddhist hell motif, leading into a fight sequence in New York, complete with a very dramatic soundtrack featuring classical singers.

Scene changes, ditches the TV framing. Dream's now following a man in a suit who's standing on a New York street, looking up at the Avengers flying around fighting each other, when this woman says to him, "But do they care a touch for the wedding of the moor folk?" Moor here meaning the type of land, moor folk meaning faerie folk. They hold each other's gaze for a moment, she grins, he laughs, low and strange. She continues, "You weren't thinking, were you?" She's a red-haired woman with an Irish accent, wearing a veil, though the wedding she mentioned isn't hers, and looking very out of place on the streets of New York with a bunch of flying lunatics duking it out in the background.

(Woke up. Reflected that this was obviously inspired by a conversation yesterday, about the spin-off show starting today and how I still haven't gotten around to seeing the Avengers movie, and how that must have made me subconsciously remember the X-men movie that I also haven't gotten around to seeing - completely forgetting at the time about the Affleck dream which seems to have actually kickstarted this whole superhero thing. Although I haven't seen the latest Batman either, so I guess that still fits the theme. Anyway - decided to finally get around to watching that movie before the spin-off airs, went back to sleep, and making that decision seemed to do the trick, no more superhero dreams tonight.)

Fragment involving driving to the beach with IRL acquaintances and seeing Iolaus on the side of the road, looking out over a river.

False awakening - don't remember the actual waking up part, but I was in my IRL home talking about the previous dream scene as a dream, and went on to talk about skinny dipping and Xena (separate topics). Over-steeped the tea while I was talking and went to toss it out, outside.

Outside I'm on a city street, and the trash can I use is right in front of a bookshop. Looking over the books in the window display, I start thinking about idolizing people and forgetting that they're only human, and eventually seeing their flaws and feeling let down, although you're the one who put them on a pedestal in the first place. Thinking about viewing the work and the writer separately as a balancing act, being able to see a writer's flaws as a person and to love their stories without the one contradicting the other. And the flip side of that, thinking about the stress on people who are idolized.

As I walk back to my apartment, I pass a cafe where a writer I know (a DC, no resemblance to any IRL writers I'm aware of) is sitting at a table with two women young enough to be his daughters or granddaughters. I stop to talk, and I say to him something along the lines of, yeah, you're idolized and you're only human, but the way you use your young, impressionable groupies is seriously creepy. One of the women gets up and leaves. The other stays.

But when I'm back in my apartment (which no longer bears any resemblance to IRL) and making a fresh cup of tea, I turn around and find that the woman who'd stayed is now sitting in my kitchen. I offer her a cup, she says no. She tells me haltingly that she's thinking about getting a job to support herself - maybe working for a political campaign, maybe going back to college, getting a degree and working in publishing - instead of relying on her writing.

There was a dream before this one but I don't really remember it. I'm traversing the highest part of a vast, sprawling city in the quietest part of the night, swinging, leaping, running. I get so carried away that I forget where I'm going. I stop, thinking I've gone too far, and that now I'm a section of the city that I don't recognize.
I stare down at the street corner. It has a lonely, deserted feel. The building is curved to match the street corner, and there's a wide band of red neon flickering hectically. Just beyond that is an abandoned bank. The IBC sign hangs down over the street, it used to be a neon sign as well, all the letters overlap. The longer I look at it the more familiar it seems.
I drop down to the street and into another persona. I'm a cop, I've tracked two young men here. They've gone on a crime spree across every sector of the city. The last being the murder of a city official and taking the official's wife Becka as a hostage. They seemed frantic, terrified. Like birds startled into flight, they fled and settled here. I creep inside the building. It's tiny. Just a front desk hugging the right-hand wall and a couple of glass-walled offices. They have broken the last glass panel and are inside the office. The lights flicker. The walls are a warm cream color, the glass framing dark bronze.
For a second I think I see a fox-like red dog dusted with shattered glass, delicately stepping over the shards, trying not to damage her paws. She looks at me for a moment. Then It's Becka, the red-headed official's wife, looking at me. Like a moron she steals the element of surprise from me. She sees the gun in my hand and pleads loudly for me not to kill her.
I lower my weapon and approach the room. Inside two young men, brothers, are setting up a camera. They are both dark haired and blue eyed, wearing navy t-shirts. One is in the middle of a hysterical tirade. Neither of them seem to concerned about my presence.
"They're everywhere--we can't be certain who has been taken." He sets up a tripod and tosses a length of cable to his brother.
"I'm only concerned about your hostage..." I break in. They glance at me.
"She's not a hostage! Once we showed her her husbands true face, she came with us willingly."
I look at the tall red-headed woman trying to figure out of they're telling the truth, but I can only see her profile. I frown a little.
"What do you mean?"
"They've been staging a silent take over for a while now. Fae demons who wear the skins of men, ghosts possessing our families!" The young man says, I glance at his brother. His brother rolls his eyes, I know that the other brother is the only believer here. He notices me looking and schools his face into passivity. "We'll open the door, and show everyone their plan. Is the Key ready?"
"Yeah Bran--"
"Such fools." Becka says quietly. For a second I think she's talking about people in general. "Did you really think you'd get away with this?"
My realization is quick, how perfectly she infiltrated their little group. They go on their crime spree, seem to take a hostage, and all the while she's planning to murder them. Who would question a captive killing her captors? She wouldn't even have to break her cover as the Official's wife. As I look at her, her eyes change from dark brown to...glass filled with white mist and curlings of blue-gray smoke. Over Bran's shoulder I see that the portal is open. There's a dark green square of land with a group of tall fae women.

I'm standing in a weathered-wood pig pen. The gate is even open. On a raised platform to my back, the tall fae women sit on elegant stools and chairs. They lounge there, waiting. They're all dressed in long gowns with elaborate jewelry. They are not really concerned with restraining me. I walk through the open gate, feigning a casual stroll. I check the back of my belt for the small knife I usually keep there. It's missing, of course. One of them laughs derisively, "Humans."
"Becka" is standing all the way on the other side of the square of land, there's a fence and wheat reaching a few feet taller than even her. There's a stirring in the wheat. She frowns at it.
"Boys got away, did they?" I ask no one in particular.
"Not for long, I'm afraid." A woman answers.
Becka turns back toward, out of the corner of my eye I see someone duck under the fence next to me, into another patch of cultivated land. I walk slowly, very conspicuously, toward it.
"Look, she's trying to escape." Someone says mirthfully. It's probably a good thing that they underestimate me. I break for the fence, but I can't climb over the top. They've set up chicken wire in a cage over the area. Becka runs at me bears me to the ground. I struggle wildly, wiggle free enough to kick her hard in the shoulder. I scramble under the lowest bar of the fence and as I'm regaining my feet her hand swipes at my ankle. I dance away into a run. There isn't much room in here. There's only a foot and a half between the rows of a vine with dark glossy spear-head leaves and bright red flowers. They grow up into the chicken-wire cage and around, then down again into the earth. I can feel her right behind me, I dodge around a corner as she makes a grab for my shirt.
I can't believe how fast I'm moving, but she's keeping pace with me, I can't seem to shake her. I take a right, feeling leaves slap my face. I turn again, hitting the dividing rail hard, squeezing into the space between the last row of vines and a low wall with a galvanized metal planter with new plants in them.
I hear her curse behind me. I'm a small woman, I don't have trouble running here. Becka is built a lot larger, wide at the shoulders. I smile a little. I can see the corner of the plant cage from here. It's just a matter of finding a gap I can climb through. I run to the corner, I know she's moved back into the adjacent row. I'm turning right and see my way out. As I reach it she knocks me to the ground. She pulls my knife from behind her back, on her downward stab I somehow smack it from her hand. It hits the dirt. I scramble toward it. She grabs it before I can.
There's a sort of galvanized trap door. On the hood is the knife Denna from The Name of the Wind carries, a thin sharp blade with leather wrapped around one end. It glitters in the light. I wonder if Becka has noticed it. I dearly hope not, I would love to use it. I look at the knife hungrily, almost.
There's loud crash and she looks over her shoulder, startled. I use the distraction to crawl through the trap door.

I've lost my pursuers in a crowd. The building feels somewhere between a mall and a university. I insinuate myself into a group. I notice a weird shop, with a yellow neon sign. I hear a girl saying that she might need to stop in there to have her skin tightened.
"They sell skin tightening here?" I ask, intrigued.
We reach an arched ramp, and at the bottom I can see the last door that will take me to freedom. She tells me about it and I turn around to go look at the shop. Then I wonder what the hell I'm doing and why I would even need skin tightening. I turn back to the ramp. Near the door, standing guard is Brienne of Tarth, looking like the actress who plays her on Game of Thrones. She's sitting in a chair, one leg extended, arms crossed over her chest. Her bare arms, neck and side of her face have angular designs in faded woad. I hesitate. I know that she would joylessly take me in, since it was her duty to follow the orders of the Fae queen. Even if she didn't want to. She is looking away, now's my chance.
I hurry past her, my hands are on the bar of the glass door---
I wake up.

Monday, June 28, 2010

A couple weeks ago, I implemented a new rule: DC's aren't allowed to drive. Apparently, I'm one to talk.




I decide to give up my job in Quickton. I'm never going to have enough money for this, so it's time to leave. I hop on a bus, going west.

Calgary is on a terrorist alert; somebody tried to get into the States and do something bad. As such, travel into the States is practically cut off for the time being.

I'm on a boat, out in the ocean. It's a small boat, and I'm just sitting on a bench holding my backpack. I might be drawing on my ridiculously oversize tablet. The captain comes up to me and says we're getting close to the path of my next ship, so I should pack up. He hands me a whole bunch of change to cover the fare for the next boat.

I wander onto the second boat with my tablet and my backpack. I'm shown to my room. The room itself keeps changing. There are huge windows looking out into a hallway at first, and the whole hallway is covered in posters. Later, the windows look out over a hostel-style common room that I remember from another dream. I remember thinking that it would be really cool to have one of the rooms overlooking the common room on the second story.

I step through the wall and grab a book from one of the shelves.

---

"They're fucking cannibals! Close the door, close the fucking door!"

This has happened before, I register dimly, we're on another loop. I'm too busy slamming the door on someone's fingers to notice. I kick them free and slam the door again. I'm turning the key on the ignition - Ben, why didn't you turn the car on while I was fighting - and barreling through the two dozen people in front of us. One hits the windshield, scrabbles for purchase, and goes sliding off as we pick up speed.

We're on the highway to Regina. It's night. I'm panicked and trying to decide if I should pull over and calm down or keep driving as fast as I can.

"Slow down," says my brother, "This isn't helping." We're fairly far away from the compound.

I slow down to 110 clicks, but I'm still passing other vehicles. This shouldn't be a double lane highway, should it?

My brother gives me a look.

"Shut up," I say, "The speed limit is 110."

The road is twisty and I'm not sure where the lanes are and I'm starting to get confused. Abruptly, the car takes a random turn to the left, and I'm in the ditch, driving through a field that doesn't feel much different than the road.

We come to a stop on another highway, adjacent to the first.

"Maybe we should go this way?" No response from my brother, so I put the car back in drive and start moving at a reasonable pace.

The road ends. We go flying off of a cliff. I see everything from the third person, the camera angle far above us and looking down at the mountains below.

This wouldn't happen in real life, I reason. This is obviously a dream. I remember making a car fly in one of my previous dreams, so I try to do that now.

I'm alone, falling through the air without a vehicle. I've slowed my descent reasonably, and I land at the base of a cliff crawling with rock climbers.

I ignore them. What were my lucid goals again? Oh yeah, pyrokinesis. I bring my hands together like I'm holding a ball between them, and slowly bring them apart. Nothing's happening.

I take a deep breath, focus on all of the rage and anger and fear that I felt in the previous dream. I bring my hands apart, and this time a chain of beads of fire forms between them. I wave my hands and the fire dissipates.

Huh. Apparently it's easier to summon fire when you're actually being threatened. Good to know.

I grab a cardboard box wedged in the rocks behind me and try to do the same thing. The cardboard smoulders on one edge, but doesn't catch fire.

I climb up the cliff face and sit on one of the ledges. The place has shifted into an immense cavern, and sunlight is streaming in through the many entrances. The rock varies from pure white marble to pale grey granite.

I see a pack of wolves in the distance. They're beautiful. They're on the same level as me. They get closer, and one comes over and sniffs at me. I growl at him, and he dances back, cautious. He comes closer again.

We're standing at the ground level of the cave, trying to communicate. The wolf catches onto English quickly, and soon we're having a conversation that I can't remember.

At the same time, we hear someone approaching in the distance.

"It's a hunter," I tell the wolf. "You should run. Take the rest of your pack with you."

Suddenly, I'm a lot younger, and won't be able to stand up to the hunter.

The hunter shows up and realizes that his quarry got away. He gives me a ride back to town.

"This place is totally empty," he tells me, "You might not be able to get a ride out for a while."

"No worries." I eye the empty stretch of highway, remember what someone said on the forums. I hold my thumb out, and someone shows up within seconds.

I climb into the car with a bunch of girls - there's one seat left - and we drive off to wherever we're going. I try to pay attention to the roads so I can remember how we got there.

---

A dream about a bunch of different worlds. Apparently Aslan kicked everybody (including the animals) out of Narnia. Now talking animals and fairies and Faeries are wandering from world to world, trying to find somewhere to live. So am I, for that matter.

I knock on the door. It opens to a short old woman, who asks what my name is.

"I'm Rory."

"No, you're not," she says, sounding angry. Apparently there's a prophecy about a girl named Rory.

"I'm Rory, but I'm a guy?"

"Oh, well, that's okay then." She invites me inside.

There are fairies in cages. I can see the daring rescue from here.

---

I'm Harry Dresden, and I'm in a city... somewhere. I remember that I was looking for ways to travel in dreams, and I wonder if I can use the Ways through Faerie.

I'm reading the new Dresden Files book. My mom is in the room.

"Oh, come on!" I say. My mom looks up, questioning.

"Everyone is Michael's vessel. Dean Winchester was Michael's vessel. In that last thing I read, Lucifer was Michael's vessel. Now Dresden? This is getting ridiculous."

Besides, Dresden already got possessed by an angel.

My Driving. Scare Factor: 4.

The Ways might be an interesting way of getting around, though. Dissolve the dream, wander through the Void, find what I'm looking for.

(The Void being that blackness that seems to be behind every dream.)