Things to Run Away From Really Fast

★★★☆☆

10/01/10



I'm framing a wall; it's laying down on the plywood floor. I have a cordless air nailer in my hand, and I'm adjusting the studs for the wall and nailing them in place. It's repetitive work, meditative.

A high-pitched laugh echoes through the half-framed house. The outside walls are up, casting long shadows in the evening sunlight. It's fading, getting darker.

I stand up slowly and turn around. Without taking my eyes from the floor, I lift up the air nailer and fire - one, two, three precise shots into the darkness.

The laughter ceases.

Scare Factor: 2/10

Note: the previous "Air Nailer" dream was #89.

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.

A house from start to finish.

Before me is a hole in the ground, a basement that's just been dug in the middle of a field. On the other side of the basement are my mom and dad (who I work for), talking to a customer. I have to crawl under the sheets of poly to make it to the other side.

I'm in the same location, but it's shifted to become some sort of self-sufficient compound. I'm a new character, older. I feel a timer go off in my head, telling me it's time to begin classes. I'm a teacher.

Houses. Scare Factor: 1.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Oh look. I'm bleeding.

I'm shopping, getting ready to disappear if the government catches onto our plan.

I'm at what's supposed to be our house, shared with the people I'm conspiring with. I'm outside on the front steps, cutting up blocks of styrofoam cement with a chainsaw. A woman comes out to talk to me. She looks like Michelle Rodriguez. We talk about something, she warns me about the Agents that might have followed her here. Then she explains that the box of nails next to the steps are actually explosive rounds that she uses in her gun.



The Agent shows up. I play dumb, but eventually confess that the weapon he's looking for is that box, beside the steps. He goes to look, and when he looks up, I'm holding an air nailer pointed straight at his head. He rushes me, knocks me off balance, and I fire six nails. I think one might hit him, but the other five go straight into my left forearm.

I'm sitting on the ground, still holding the cordless nailer. I stare dumbly at my forearm. The nails have been impaled along the center, an inch apart from each other. Blood, everywhere.

The agent is running off and I'm babbling about how I thought there weren't any nails in the gun. Michelle shows up and helps me inside. I'm staring at my arm, fascinated, and picking at the nails, pulling them out one at a time.

Michelle slaps my hand away and pours a mix of soapy water over my arm. I hiss, but more in reflex than actual pain. She says she'll take them out; I'll do too much damage if I do it myself.

"There's only one left," I say, holding up my arm.

She looks a little sick.

Air Nailers. Scare Factor: 4.