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2017, 07-13

Night Raiders

I am outside on a dark and moonless night. I peer into the darkness, using night vision to see what is going on around me. I see a village like one out of a fantasy RPG close by. I also see that there are a number of people sneaking up on the village. The people sneaking up on the village looked like armored warriors. Even as I am thinking that the attack begins. All of the warriors hidden in the dark charge forward, crying out loudly, words I can’t understand. The village doesn’t have any defenses that I see. Sleepy villagers come out to see what is going on and get cut down. I am not going to let this happen. I charge into the open myself, creating a fence from the tendril ability of Alex Mercer to keep the attackers from progressing any farther. They try to cut through the tendrils with their swords but that is ineffective. People are gathering on both sides of my fence now.

There is a lot of commotion going on and soon someone comes forward who appears to be the leader. He asks what the meaning of the holdup is and then sees me. He orders me to remove this strange barrier from his path. I say no, I won’t allow him to attack this village. He identifies himself as Theon Greyjoy and says he’s the prince of somewhere called the Iron Isles. I comment he must not be much of a prince if he finds attacking defenseless villagers to be amusing. He says he doesn’t need to explain himself to the likes of me then orders his soldiers to kill me and remove the barrier. For some reason I am reluctant to kill these people so I decide to scare them instead.

I make a very obvious display of shifting my arms into Alex Mercer claws adding some tendrils reaching out from my body and moving around me and glowing red eyes to give the impression of something demonic. A man attacks me with a sword and I use tendrils to take the sword from his hands and bend it in two, breaking it as if it was a child’s wooden sword. The soldiers are now calling out that I’m a sorceress and a monster and as I advance slowly they are in quite the hurry to retreat. Theon drives his sword through my middle but I feel nothing. I pull it out and melt it down with intense heat from my hands. The wound immediately regenerates. That’s all Theon has to see before he turns and retreats with his soldiers. I call after him that if he comes back he will see the full extent of my powers. Everything fades to black and I wake up.

((I'd advise not looking this up if you don't want sort of Season 3/4 Spoilers! I thought I would post this as an example of the kinds of panic-ridden dreams I have on a semi-regular basis; I had never had a nightmare that felt as vivid as this, though I never became lucid.))

21st June 2014:

Tonight's dream was particularly unpleasant. I am writing this a lot later than when it actually happened, but I still remember the basics. In this dream I was Reek, from Game of Thrones, not Theon, but Reek. Luckily, though, I still had my manhood. For some reason, Ramsay Snow had taken me to a museum, a huge, grand place, with beige marble steps leading to its glorious entrance; inside were high domed ceilings, and esteemed works of art; everything was the same marbled beige, with a hint of orange; it was a very regal colour, I thought. I was led along by Ramsay by a chain on my neck, and once the brief tour was concluded, which I actually saw little of in the dream, I was thanked for my obedience, and Ramsay said that there would be a reward for me when I got back, to which I replied "Thank you, master." meekly. As we went outside back onto the cliff, which somehow floated in the air like something out of Avatar (yet it had none of the lush vegetation, only short green grass and steep, grey, rocky sides that formed a point beneath the landmass, like a floating pinnacle), I realised that a rescue attempt had been staged by Brienne of Tarth, Asha Greyjoy and what appeared to be an identical twin of Theon. I don't recall what happened to Brienne or Asha, but I know that the clone of Theon was knocked off the cliff (by an arrow to the chest, I think), which he fell from wordlessly, and I did not see him again. I knew I could not allow myself to show my dismay to Ramsay, or he might think me disloyal, so we continued back to where we were intending to go; I don't know how we got off the floating cliff, though.

In the next scene, I was sitting hunched up beneath in a tight corridor surrounded by mesh fences; the floors were made of a rough, splintery looking wood, and behind the mesh fences there didn't seem to be anything, so I can only assume that they were spacious holding cells, or maybe they were just there to make the corridor uncomfortably narrow. Set into this corridor was a huge iron door, locked and bolted, but I think I could hear screams coming from inside. Ramsay spoke to me threateningly about my "reward", his sadistic half-smile on his face. I insisted pathetically that I was loyal and that he promised he wouldn't hurt me, but I knew then that I had been wrong. I knew that something terrible was happening to the man behind that door, and that I was next. I knew that he was going to chop my manhood off. I had no choice but to run. I sprinted through the cramped corridors as fast as I could, and felt the exasperation as I had to squeeze through narrow openings, through tight walls of spikes and rollers lined with the same sharp implements; every time I had to cross such an obstacle, Ramsay caught up with me a little more, but I kept going, and going, and going. I came to a large marble staircase, sensing that I had reached the less shabby part of the castle, nearing freedom. I bumped into a wiry, frumpish serving woman in sweeping skirts, with her white and grey hair tied into a neat bun. I began to cry weakly for help as I neared the exit, until finally I emerged out into the daylight, or at least I think it was day; I don't quite remember. I stopped the first man I saw, a smart looking gentleman with a fine moustache and a posh Southern (British) accent that suggested lordliness. I rambled that Lord Ramsay was evil, that he was going to chop off my manhood, that he had to alert the authorities, that he must do something, but the man seemed positively nonplussed by my desperate pleas for help, and simply said: "I can't help you there. Lord Ramsay can do as he likes." I should mention that outside, the exterior of the castle where I had been kept looked very much like the rocky, barren land that had covered the floating museum-cliff.

Seeing no other option, I ran until somehow, I ended up on the main high street of my city. I began to feel hopeful; I was losing Lord Ramsay, but perhaps one of his lackeys would catch me; no doubt he'd have them combing the area for me. I had never felt so desperate in a dream before, and I felt my real life disability setting in (I walk with a limp), yet I continued running, panting raggedly. Then, my legs gave out, and I fell to my knees, still I kept moving, crawling along the ground in a desperate struggle for freedom; if I could reach the statue of St. George and the Dragon a short distance away (even though it was in the wrong place in the city during this dream) I knew I might be further away. As I had been running down the street, I had glimpsed Lord Ramsay, and heard him shouting "Reek! Reek!" which only enhanced my desperation. It was then that my legs had given out. I must have been running for what felt like 20 minutes.

I managed to reach the monument, only to be stopped by Jaime (an old school friend of mine, surname omitted. ); he had apparently become an agent of Lord Ramsay's, and he said in a matter-of-fact tone: "Sorry Reek, but I'm going to have to take you back." I felt angry and betrayed, and swung at him, having managed to stand up, but all the strength had gone out of my arms. I knew that it was useless to resist, and that Lord Ramsay would take me back to the Dreadfort. It was only then that I woke up, agitated, but also relieved.