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    Vesterguard

    06-12-16 Bullets and frags

    by , 12-06-2016 at 01:57 PM (257 Views)
    “Jumping from the roofs”

    I am in a large apartment complex with Sadist Simon. We are in an attic room that protrudes from the otherwise diagonal walls, the windows here are large and fully open and just under the windows there is a small area of the roof that isn’t as diagonal as the rest, in fact it is almost plane. We need to get to the ground and there is a fair amount of distance to the grass below. The weather seems cloudy, but dry and bright and we are going to town once we get down.

    We exit the room and get to the plane spot. At first I look down and think I can simply jump it, but then I get anxious and nervous and think I will most certainly break my legs if I do so. We are on the third (second in Danish terms) floor and the building extends on both the right and left side, sort of forming a horseshoe of the grass below.

    Simon then walks out on a very narrow black ledge on the part of the building complex extending on the right. He does a small jump and land on a wider black ledge a level down before he jumps to the grass.

    I am impressed and slightly jealous of his courage. I walk out on the plane roof – very tentatively – and weigh my options. On the left hand side there is a series of roof tops that progressively make their way towards the grass out towards the road at the end. I make a short run and jump onto this roof section and find it smooth sailing from there.

    The dream repeats once or maybe twice, with increasing levels of anxiety towards stepping out onto the plane section of the red tiled roof and Simon constantly in a confident manner making the small jump that I don’t dare doing. At one point he mentions “I just trust that I will land safe”.

    “A weed field and cops”

    I am coming out of a forest in the middle of the night. Someone is with me, it feels like an apprentice, student or disciple of some sort. It is dark, and it feels cloudy – no stars. In front of me I see a long rectangular field, that seems recently ploughed though also with sprouts of plants coming through.

    In front of the field is a road, which runs next to the field and white farmhouse at the end of the field. The road continues down through the forest from where we are stepping out. I look up and see a couple of cars driving down the road taking parking next to the field, close to the farm house. What stands out is the bright blue sirens blaring from atop the vehicles.

    “Ah the police is finally here” I proclaim to my assistant.
    “What are you going to do?” he responds in a nervous and concerned tone of voice.
    “Well I am going to go and talk to them, put the cards on the table” I say, mustering as much relaxation as I can. I am feeling slightly nervous myself, but also recognise that there is really nothing I can do aside from being honest about the situation.

    So I walk up and find a couple of officers. One of them is a woman, I think the other is a man. I feel they are tense and uneasy, so I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender putting as much as I can into displaying a body language of truce and no-harm as possible. The officers relax a little as they approach in a cooperative manner and start their spiel.

    “You are under suspicion for growing skunk, and it seems obvious you are guilty.” He introduce. And it seems fair in all honesty. As he is talking the fields we are now waling in have changed to accommodate several metre tall cannabis plants.
    “Ah yes officer, let me assure you that I will provide full cooperation” I start out. And then I think of a loop-hole. The officers think they have struck gold, but they are only interested in skunk. What they don’t realise is that all the plants in the field are simply cannabis/hemp plants and not illegal.
    “I do have a couple of skunk plants in the greenhouse. Follow me” I say.
    They follow and we get to the very end of the indoor section of the grow chamber. Right next to a white door with 8-10 square windows in it is a small square pot of cannabis. The plants are very small and I lift up the pot and hand it to the officer nearest. “Here is the skunk. Now as for the rest of the plants they are industrial hemp plants and as such not illegal, as you surely know.” I say and while the officer look at me confused and disappointed, but also defeatedly accepting my argument. I think to myself that they have no idea that I can get more than high using the industrial stuff seeing as my tolerance have been lowered considerably since my Ayahuasca exposures.

    Dream ends.

    “Get out of my room”

    I am standing in my room. It is a rectangular space, very bright white walls from the sun shining through the panoramic window that spans the entirety of the end wall. My door is open and all of a sudden my uncle Kurt comes rushing in. I get embarrassed. The room is very untidy, there is loads of stuff on the floor and both the doors to the floor-to-ceiling closet lining the wall opposite the window are open and it is a mess in there. I step away from looking at my closet and turn to face him and as I do my father comes in close pursuit of my Uncle. I step up and start walking towards them. “Get out, OUT!” I tell them firmly as I raise my arms, stretch them out with palms raised towards my Uncle as I gently start pushing them back out of the room.

    “Your room is very untidy!!” My dad starts, but I ignore it. I feel nervous and anxious, my heart is raising and my thinking seems flustered. I see this as an opportunity to stand up for myself and claim my own space, and do with it what I want.

    As soon as they – in particular my uncle – are out of the room the doors slam shut violently. I am shocked and experience a surge of adrenaline travelling up my body and I open my eyes widely. I look about as the thought arise this must be because of the draught, and as I turn my head even further over left shoulder I see that the window is indeed wide open and I get the picture that this is the case for the entire house.

    The dream ends.

    “You are the tank”

    I am with a small party of people in a typical WoW style set-up, though I think we may only be four. I think I am both of the people having the discussion that plays out in the scenario, though it is observed from an external disembodied POV.

    We are standing in a somewhat dark living space. It may be a combined kitchen, lounge and living room and there is loads of different objects placed on the tables and other surfaces around us. We have just returned from a raid or a mission of some sort and we have had success, though there is a feeling of excitement running around, a result of our recent experiences having been hairy and risky.

    I am discussing with a tall, lean (but muscular) and black haired guy. In writing this I think I take on the agency of the other person, though still from a disembodied perspective. I am explaining to the tall guy that he actually took on the role of protecting us. He seems a bit disappointed, or maybe surprised at this and we rummage around in the space and find a shield. I hook it on a 2D figure of the guy, who is now also the person and across his chest is written something along the lines of “Focus your attention on me, I shall protect my allies” or similar. I walk about a little more until I find a helmet and put it on the figure, finalising his initiation as the tank.

    Then I walk about trying to find DPS gear, which starts out with a black leather tunic.

    The dream ends.

    “My men have it handled”

    This dream primarily took place from a bodiless observer perspective.

    In this snippet I am involved, might even be leading a band of outlaws. We are on horses and approach a transport protected by a fair amount of warriors on horses. There is of course a medieval feel to the scenario, which takes place in a fairly barren – with sporadic blotches of grass –, rocky and jagged mountain pass. It feels like early forenoon under a sunny cloudless sky.

    As we approach the carriage the dream shifts immediately into the wagon. In it is a fat, balding, hedonistic and cynical noble, lying down amongst pillows blankets and mattresses in soft warm lighting. He is dressed in a soft grey robe of sorts and he seems to be gorging himself on some sort of food. He oozes content for peasants and lesser subjects. He is approached by an advisor of sorts, who explains that the carriage has come under attack, with some concern in his voice. With some arrogance, and mild irritation at the disturbance the nobleman responds “Bah! This rabble is no match for my trained men.”

    There is a shift in narrative. I am now embodied in one of the guardsmen protecting the carriage. I am standing on the road in the jagged scenery observing the carriage and horses driving away up a fairly steep mountain road. I am with my comrades and the noble and we have all been stripped down to our underwear – which is white boxers all around. In the air a heavy vibe of embarrassment and defeat is palpable. For some reason we have to climb a vertical strip of cliff, it is almost as a wall, as on the top it is completely flat and plane. From where I am climbing up I experience slight difficulty in getting up to the flat plane. A thin layer of snow covers the edges of the precipice and aside from this the planes are covered in a thin layer of water where the light grey surface of the rock doesn’t take up visual space. The wall-like cliff side I have just climbed curves backwards to my left and I get a vision of a castle-like town over my left hand shoulder. The embarrassment arise as a result of knowing that we now have to go back and report the encounter to our leaders here.

    End of dream.

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