Things to Run Away From Really Fast

02/25/10

I'm Alex and she's Nikita and – shit! I throw myself behind a set of crates as a blaze of gunfire lights up my trail.

"We have to take the south exit!" she shouts over the noise.

"They've anticipated your escape route," I shout back, "It's an ambush!"

"We don't have a choice!"

Splintering wood and conveniently placed explosives under piles of precariously stacked crates – we make a dash for the exit. Don't stop when you're in the open, I tell myself, sprinting across the lawn, It's when you're most vulnerable, and we dive into the river and Alex closes her eyes.

Caught in the slipstream, I nudge at Alex/Nikita. Don't hold your breath, I say. Breathe. It won't hurt you.

Alexandra. Scare Factor: 2.

02/05/11

"You're leaving? How the hell are you planning to get out of the city?"

"By bus."

"That route's run by the gangs. Do you know what they could do to you?"

"I'd kill them if they tried."

"You'd try to kill them, you mean."

"Well, yes."

An image forms in my mind. The bus I'm on, forced to the side of the road. The leader grabs me by the arm, hauls me to my feet. Keeping center of balance low, I take a quick step past him. Use his grip against him, grab, throw, dislocate his shoulder. Follow through to the next man, punch to the solar plexus. Disarm the knife, strike to the throat.

Unrealistic? Depends on reaction time of second man. Don't underestimate.

"Fine," she says, with the look of a person with too many stubborn people in her life. "I'm coming with you."

One Way. Scare Factor: 2.

★★☆☆☆

SOLO SENTENCE ESPRESSO

01/29/11

The agent says, "You can't escape this; your fingerprints are a match," and I smirk and rub at my handcuffed wrists, shifting the patterns on my fingertips into something unrecognizable.

Prints. Scare Factor: 2.

★★★★★

SOLO SENTENCE ESPRESSO

The ballroom explodes into chaos as the giant chess set dismembers the guests, forcing me to escape with the elderly ghosts of the manor who then try to trap me as I escape through the cracks in reality with the maid and her sister who don't trust me after I rescue them from drowning because I can't die (from that point on, we're followed by their zombie-like blue-tinged doppelgangers who are haunting their mostly-dead father who says, "This is our eternity," and means, "This is Hell.")

Eternity. Scare Factor: 5. Rating: Awesome.

★★★★☆

12/29/10

The shop is open to the street, choked with dust kicked up by the people and horses bustling by on the busy dirt road. A woman with short, strawberry blonde hair arranges the merchandise at the front of the stall. Her movements are quick, angry, but she looks tired. The heat and the dust and the people and the fact that she's working for nothing for someone else are wearing at her patience and her sanity. I am that woman.

A man walks by. I have time to register that he's tall and handsome, with longish dark brown hair, before he's brushing by me. He stops long enough to whisper, "I'm taking the harmonica back. Are you with me?" I've never met the man, but I'm nodding and setting things down, moving away into the street, my movements perfectly synchronized with his.

The mark is looking at silverware two stalls down. I'm threading through the crowd as he shows off the silver harmonica. I'm tapping him on the shoulder, smiling as he turns around and we chat about the silverware on display. He's waving the harmonica over his shoulder, and the first man, the thief, snatches it from his hand. The mark turns to shout, and I'm brushing by, cutting the strings on his purse.

We run. Through the countryside, on the uneven ground of the foothills. I thought we were safe, thought we'd outrun our pursuers hours ago, but arrows are raining down on us and the horses are hot on our heels.

I'm hit. The arrow pierces through just below my ribcage, and I feel the blood soak through my shirt. I fall behind, am left stumbling through the brush. The dogs are quieter now, and I take refuge beneath the roots of a giant tree.

At the bottom of the hollow are three doors, each small enough to crawl through. I pull out the small leather pouch I stole earlier and turn it over. A key falls into my hand. This key will open any lock in the dreamworld, a voice whispers in my mind. Smiling, calm, heedless of the wound on my side (suddenly much, much younger) I drop to the moss-covered ground and slide the key into the lock.

Thievery. Scare Factor: 3.

Isn't that the perfect amount of obvious symbolism for the guys in the Dream Interpretation forum?

★★★☆☆

...because burning them just isn't dramatic enough.

11/18/10



A sleek metal bridge extends over the choppy sea. I stand near the center, unable to see the shores on either side, obscured as they are by mist. Rain lashes out in sheets and the wind impedes my movement - block, parry, slash - as I slice through an imperial guard with my lightsaber.

Something is speeding towards me, about to impact. I catch the missile with Force Grip, send it spinning into an enemy tank. There's a bridge running parallel to this one, and stormtroopers are setting up missile launchers on the edge. They fire -

A wave of my hand sends them careening back into the shooters.

A spider-like droid, twice my height, uses the distraction to scuttle towards me, using its legs as blades. I dodge, jump over the droid and land a glancing blow to its head. Its head swivels towards me as it prepares for another run.

A purge trooper takes a swipe at me. It misses, barely, and I go on the offensive with a flurry of lightsaber strikes. Seconds later, it collapses to the ground, spent.

I keep a wary eye on the spider droid, but it's smarter to take out the smaller enemies first.

...and I'm skating down a barely frozen river. I'm on skis, I'm on a toboggan, I'm holding on to some sort of ski lift as it takes me up, no, down the river.

And I'm stealing some sort of precious coffee grounds. Or beans. One big pile, holding together only because it doesn't occur to me that they shouldn't.

And I'm running through a house, up stairs and through hallways and secret passages.

This room, says a voice, my voice, Was created by my father as a haven for me. No one else can enter it. And I'm laying down behind the couch so that no one can see me through the window in the door.

And then I'm me, for just a moment. I look at the door and I smirk, knowing that the family that's following me will find me, only because that's what I'm expecting. I don't care. It's a dream, and not a particularly awful one. I just want to rest and not think and play through whatever game my subconscious is dreaming up...

I wake up to the family pounding on the door, yelling. I pick myself up from the ugly, floral brown couch and pad across the room. I open a closet door methodically, pull a gun from the rack.

I'm standing in front of the door, holding a crossbow at the ready, pointing through the window. The banging has stopped, and the father asks me if I'm really going to shoot his son.

Everything's all right. The gun's not even loaded.

Exploding Bridges. Scare Factor: 2/10

As an interesting aside, I have not played the game that the picture is from. Before today, I have not seen any pictures or previews, so you can imagine my surprise when I come across an actual spider-like droid from Force Unleashed II, which the dream was based on.

Granted, mine had more legs.

★★★☆☆

Four hours of sleep, and suddenly this monstrosity comes along. It's fairly disjointed; I don't have a whole lot of time to play with it, so without further ado...

10/18/10



Harry Potter tries to mess with the fabric of reality, I have diabolical plans, and Dumbledore disapproves as usual.

"Just think about it," I tell her. "With this kind of breakthrough, we could completely alter the way humans perceive reality!"

Sophie looks up at me, skeptical, one hand keeping her place in the textbook. She's holding a pen in her other hand, and she taps it impatiently against her notebook. She pushes a few strands of short red hair out of her eyes, and says, "I know what happens when you try to play mad scientist, Harry."

We're sitting across from each other at a long wooden table. Sophie's studying - this is a library, after all. The interior is almost entirely decorated with red-stained wood, giving the impression of a highly modern, really big log cabin. With lots and lots of glass (and books). Sunlight streams in from the huge windows, and outside is a view of the forest, and the other school buildings in the clearing.



"Chaos, generally." I say, grinning. Some of the other students notice that I'm grinning, and quietly begin to edge away from us. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

skip

There's this thing I have to do on the computer. It's very important. I'm sitting outside on the green grass, trying to do this very important thing, when - hey, will you look at that? Dumbledore's on Skype!

Albus Dumbledore appears in a new window, looking very grave indeed. This is somewhat offset by all of the spinning and twirling metal gadgetry on his desk.

"Harry," says Dumbledore gravely, "I've received word of the research you've begun."

"Really?" I say, looking up from Minesweeper. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

He sighs. "Harry," he repeats, "This is not a road you cannot walk down unscathed. You'll be returning to Hogwarts."

"Um..." I say slowly, "No."

"By force, if necessary."

My computer pings.

"Did you just -" I say, looking at the screen, "Did you just track my location through my internet connection? You realize I'm on a different PLANET? How the hell does that even -"

But Dumbledore's appearing at the edge of the wards, walking into the school grounds the only way he can. I meet his eyes for just a moment, and I disapparate.

skip

Moving through Ixburg, and I'm running. I'm moving through a jobsite, people from my hometown who were, apparently, in direct competition with my family's business. By some sort of mutual agreement, they all ignore my presence, and I pass through completely unnoticed.

Back doors of the grocery store and I'm having a conversation with someone before I disappear again -

Narcissa Malfoy. We're standing in some anonymous hallway of a starship, looking out into the black.

"I don't disapprove of your cutting his influence out of your life," she's saying, "But I'm not convinced that making an enemy of Dumbledore will be conducive to your goals."

"There are greater forces at work here. He may get in my way," I say coldly, "But he can't stop me."

Narcissa nods once, sharply. "Very well. My family is at your service, as always."

I'm closing my eyes, casting my senses out into the nothing. Golden light is cutting through the darkness, pushing it away, burning.

"You need to leave," I tell my informant, and I'm hurtling out into the void of space, an ethereal being of energy and animal and just a sliver of humanity. And the burning, fierce presence is crying out, raising its wings.

Fawkes.

He's found me through Harry's holly wand, called by the phoenix feather within. I smile and pull another wand from my sleeve, one made of ebony. And as the phoenix is upon me, I call up the Void, and I meet the creature's light with an unfathomable darkness.

Boom.

(O'Neill: What the hell was that?)
(Carter: I don't know, sir, but it almost blew straight through our shields. We're lucky it wasn't closer.)

"Grab my arm." I tell Sophie. We apparate from planet to planet, trying to get Dumbledore off our trail. One, two, three, four, five. Hoth, Antarctica, Europa, Tartarus, Miranda.

I appear in the woodshop of the school in the clearing. There's another person in the room.

"Where is my daughter?" The woman asks.

I look around, but Sophie's nowhere to be seen.

Dumbledore.

skip

"Aurors and their locking spells," I mutter, pointing my ebony wand at the door. The lock clicks, and I open the door to the super-secret impenetrable Unspeakable Library. "Well, come on." I hiss at the nervous man behind me.

The two of us shuffle into the library and quietly barricade ourselves in one of the rooms. We're pretty sure that the information we need is here.

The man is flipping through a card catalogue, mumbling under his breath. I'm scanning the books on the shelf, but something seems out of place. I feel a presence. Thinking it's a guard, I make my way over to one of the closed doors and peer through the keyhole. I'm looking for the beam of a flashlight.

At first, I don't see anything. The hallway is white, and bare, and dark. I look through at a different angle, and

look directly into blood red eyes. There's no pupil, iris, sclera, it's all a murderous shade of red, and for a moment, I'm held captive by the gaze. I notice, peripherally, that she's a ghostly little girl in a tattered white dress and everything is bleeding into itself

She flickers, like a strobe light. In and out of existence, and suddenly, she's in the room with us

Harry is terrified, and I'm calm. The ghost is on us, tearing into our essence, and Harry is terrified but I know that there's no danger but I can feel his fear

Everything's going dark

And I wake up, disoriented, in a pitch black room.

Scare Factor: 4/10

Oh. It was a dream.

It made sense at the time?

Do you think this counts as anachronistic naming, or am I just getting lazy?

WBTB after #148 (which was better), so I'm posting this one on its own.

This may have almost been a WILD.

09/18/10



When I come to, I'm lying on the floor. I'm also dreaming. I place my hands on the floor in front of me and run them through the grey shag carpet, trying to stabilize.

I get up, and go to walk out the door. I notice the lights are off. I decide to test whether I can turn them on and off, since light levels often change during my dreams. I flick the switch, but nothing happens. Huh.

I'm walking through the hallway, feeling the rolled on paint, trying to remember what I was supposed to do.

I pop my head into a bedroom. There are people lying all over. There are a few on the bed, a few more lounging on the floor.

"Hey," I ask my in-dream roommate, a girl on the bed who looks like Halle Berry. "Have you seen Zoe?"

"She said she'd be at the party tonight."

The dream fades into the party. I'm somewhat surprised; that's almost like teleportation.

Lose recall.

My parents drop me off at an apartment in downtown Calgary. I have two half-empty cardboard boxes with me. Both my mom and my dad are very disapproving about my decision to move to Calgary.

We're driving through downtown, away from the skate park my brother wanted to go to. I see a couple of the people from the No Limits parkour group (I don't know them IWL), practicing as we drive by. I point them out to the other people in the car.

Different dream.

Zoe has a little brother, in this dream. I steal a set of Janitor's keys from him and he chases me through the building.

Scare Factor: 2/10
Rating: 3/10

Everyone's dreaming about carpet.

I don't think I've been getting email notifications for the past few days. Weird.

09/08/10



Ixburg, SK

2000

He's killed, just like that. His daughter, seven years old, is alone in their apartment across town. I'm the daughter.

I slip from the bed, tiny and blonde and short-haired, and push open the door to the rest of the apartment. Somehow, I'm not surprised to see a man there. The man is stocky and blond, and I can see that he's grinning when the orange light from the window hits his face.

I incline my head. "Sir." I say, my voice neutral.

He grins wider and nods back. I step back into the doorway of my bedroom, and he brushes past me into the bright light of the hallway.

He'll be back, if only to keep an eye on me. I need to leave.

Originally Posted by DreamViews DC

It really doesn't count for the RPG if you make up the stories while you're awake.

Originally Posted by Samael

That's why I'm posting in this thread, isn't it? You know, the planning thread. Plotting thread. Where we plot.

I'm incubating a dream, okay?

Originally Posted by DreamViews DC

You still have to write your character profile, btw.

Originally Posted by Samael

...I'm going to finish the story now.

Unknown, IL

2010

I'm a man in a black suit, sitting in the back of a black car, which is driving to the outskirts of a town in Illinois. And we're in Illinois, of course, because the Organization tracked an Extranormal here. One false move, one positive test, and suddenly Jane Doe (Age 17, Grade 12, parents work from home) is about to be assassinated by a team of armed government goons.

It's funny. Extranormals can't strictly be barred from going to school, or holding regular jobs. Hell, they can even travel. Different countries have different restrictions, of course, but the good ol' US of A is all about liberty. The Organization can track them, though. Legality's a little fuzzy, but some real dangerous ones pop up occasionally. What to do with them?

Here's the thing: Extranormals go crazy all the time. They lose control of their powers and suddenly they're either a human icicle or a pile of ashes. Most of the time they take innocent bystanders with them. It's really no problem at all to fake a meltdown. Kill the EN, murder all the bystanders, blow shit up. It's easy.

This one's powers are a little more subtle, so no flashy special effects. Fortunately, ENs tend to be a little crazy to begin with, so it wouldn't be unheard of for one to suddenly... snap. Possibly kill her entire family with a butcher knife. Double murder-suicide, neat and clean.

The man in the passenger seat has the knife.

We pull up the gravel driveway. The other three men silently open their doors and step out. I hide a grin by turning toward the empty road as I step out of the car. No one's coming.

The plan is to enter the house and kill the parents, then ambush the girl when she comes home from school.

Neat and clean.

Except.

Her father died ten years ago.

Her mother died even before that.

And Jane Doe is a really stupid pseudonym.

The only person in the house is the lodger who rents out the basement. That lodger is an Extranormal himself, a young black man who's trying to lie low. Obviously, that's not working out.

I can sense him in the front entrance of the house, ready to attack the first man who comes in. I give the all-clear to the other men.

The man with the knife kicks open the door and walks into an ambush. I shoot the other two in the back.

Once upon a time, there was a man in a black suit. The man was supposed to sit in the back of a black car, and break into a house, and help murder an entire family. While he was still alive, this man used to really hate shapeshifters.

Scare Factor: 3/10
Rating: 6/10

Hello, I'm on sleeping pills. This should be interesting.

09/01/10



I'm in the midst of an ill-defined series of sex dreams. I remember switching genders at least once. Something clues me into the fact that I'm dreaming, but I'm feeling a little distracted at the moment.

The dream is morphing. I feel disconnected, and there's a whole bunch of white space. A DC turns into something two-dimensional. A person-sized poster? A mirror? The image in the glass-slash-paper is still the same man. He doesn't seem concerned.

I'm sleepy.

Mirrors. Nomad. I wander outside, unconcerned with how I get there. There's a lonely cluster of pine trees, surrounded by a mish-mash of buildings associated with my childhood. The dirt has been tilled recently; there's not even a bit of debris left on the ground.

"You're in a forest, surrounded by black-barked trees." I recall, "There's a path. Something left." I pause, trying to remember. "Late summer."

I give up at this point. I was hoping to call up the requisite imagery just by reciting the words, but it looks like that plan's out.

I walk up the dirt path. There's an idea in my mind, that I need to shed my clothing to complete a ritual. The mirror is in the trees. I throw a light-coloured button-up shirt to the side and brush my hands over a tank top. I'm hoping that my shapeshifting won't go out of control, because I'm pretty sure I'm stuck halfway between forms. I'm not in the mindset of my character. Everything is out of focus.

Another distraction. I'm running down an alley, towards someone. Jumping a white fence. Trying to find trees at the center of a labyrinth.

Scare Factor: 1/10
Rating: 3/10

Attempt at WakingNomad's Serial Dream RPG.

Sorry that I haven't been reading anyone's dream journals, by the way. I don't have the energy right now, so I'll get at them when I can.

Cheers.

08/08/10

I'm part of a story in a familiar seeming place. Everything's happening out of order, events and dialogue added where I think the story needs it. As I wake up, I see the story written out on a word processor.

I wake up. As I fall back asleep, I enter HH. I'm a younger version of Dean Winchester, and there's something I still need to do. I'm still lucid, but I don't want to wake myself up, so I fall into the dream.

***

I'm a giant, fighting a tiny man as we climb up a water tower. I try to kick him off my foot, but he's holding on, trying to stab my toes.

***

I'm in prison. I'm sitting with a group of people, all handcuffed with zip-ties, our hands wound up in green mesh. My mom and dad are there, part of the dozen or so people jammed into the cell, sitting on the wooden benches where there's room.



Despite the lack of space, I'm not crowded on the bench. I'm also pretty much ignoring everyone in the room, now that the guards are gone. I'm concentrating on removing the zip-ties. I think I might have been chewing through them at some point, but with a flourish, I have them off my wrists. I hold onto the mess of plastic for a second, think about pretending I'm still trapped, but I let it fall to the floor. I'll take my chances.

Finally, we get our own cells. All of the doors are open, so I calmly walk over to the cell by the window and sit down on the bed. Originally, we were supposed to be sharing cells, but there aren't any bunk beds. There is no privacy; everything that isn't an outside wall is made of narrow bars, four inches apart. My mom takes the cell beside mine.

Lights out. A guard comes over to check that we're in bed. He stands too close, but I'm not worried. I sense no malevolence in him.

Which is fortunate, for his sake.

The guard shuffles away and I stand up, moving silently in the shadows. The locked door to my cell swings open of its own accord, and I walk, unnoticed, right out of the building.

***

I'm a hunter. Female, with long, curly black hair. I'm interviewing witnesses, trying to figure out what's going on in this town. Someone recognizes me from an earlier hunt, and claims I'm a cop.

***

Two versions of Dean Winchester sit at different tables at a restaurant. One is just barely older than the other. The younger one approaches him.

"You know, I've had a hell of a time since you got the cops after you again."

***



There are two versions of Dean Winchester, but the age difference is exaggerated. One of them is a child, and the other is an old man.

They're at the entrance of an old quanset on a farm, when I see a flash of something happening in the distance. Six plumes of light grey smoke fly from the ground and hurtle toward us.

Sam and Dean, about five and nine at the moment, are outside. A little piece of narration goes off in my head.

They're after the kids. Demons who steal away children that wander off on their own. It's part of the local folklore.

I'm hardly there at all, so the older Dean has to decide who to save: the younger Sam or the younger Dean. Of course he goes after Sam, and I stay inside, waiting, as the demons approach mini-Dean.

When they grab him, when they go hurtling through the air towards their base, I phase through the wall and take off after them.

"Omnipitus omundi patronus," I mutter to myself, sneaking into an old farmhouse. Wait, Patronus?

Just like that, I'm lucid. I smile, and crawl into the small entranceway. Bits of dust flake off of everything I touch, and I find myself crawling as the hallway gets smaller and smaller.

A woman attacks me out of nowhere. By all rights, I shouldn't be able to move in the small hallway I've wedged myself into. I won't consider myself trapped, though. I lash out, grabbing the woman by the jaw and the back of her head, and I twist.

The woman falls to the floor, her neck broken.

The house is normal sized again, and I walk into the bedroom, see the young Dean lie sprawled out over the bed. "Omnipitus omundi patronus," I repeat, but nothing happens. I sigh, and pick the boy up, ready to run him back to his brother and older self.

Claustrophobia. Scare Factor: 2.

07/24/10

Something about angels that die at the same time as their human mates... I should really stop reading bad fanfiction.

I'm running away from zombies. I want to take to the water, so I steal my uncle's boat and go down the creek.

I need supplies. I find another boat, but apparently it's owned by the still-surviving Mafia. I steal the boat.

Now I'm being chased by thugs sent by the Mafia, as well as zombies. I run into a building, blasting holes through walls and ceilings, trying to make a route to the roof. I realize that I'm dreaming. I try to black out and go to the first location I think of (the apartment in Ixburg). I stop, everything around me faded to grey, and wonder why the hell I'd want to go to Ixburg. I fade back into the dream and keep running.

I make it to the roof. My enemies are right behind me. I jump down onto a white truck, and make a run for it, laughing.

Later. I'm on the road in a camper-trailer. I'm making dinner and doing dishes. Oma wonders if there's not enough protein in the pasta I made.

We're going to see a movie in Moose Jaw (real place, I do not kid). We park the camper and I step out with my cousins. I look at the showtimes, but Despicable Me isn't playing in that theatre anymore. Apparently this is the first day it's not showing. I'm very sad.

The Mafia. Scare Factor: 3.

Notes: I'm writing up an especially epic dream from two days ago, which seems to directly follow up Seven Minutes in Heaven. Basically, Castiel (from Supernatural) gets captured by someone, and I take the opportunity to thoroughly mindfuck Team Free Will.

07/09/10

They'll never let you leave.

I'm in a department store with a bunch of people. We're trying to escape, but a malevolent presence won't allow it. A few people find an exit sign, but when they open the door, space loops back in on itself, sending them back through a door on the opposite side of the room.

I wake up, briefly, and automatically chain myself back into the dream. I'm standing in front of a set of steps leading straight into the ceiling - a dead end. I take a breath, and hurl myself into the air, over the obstacles blocking my path up the steps. I land on my right foot, spring up over a metal bar, flipping upside down and twisting. I land at the top of the steps.

There's an attic access now. I pause to imagine blue skies, and gently push the melamine panel out of the way. I stand up, and look at the sky. It's nearly blank, with a decidedly greyish tinge. There's a bit of blue mixed in.

I decide that if I fly, the dream will resolve itself. I take off into the air, fly up and up and up. The grey shifts into clouds, and the blue becomes stronger and stronger as I get higher.

A DC joins me in my flight. He has a warning for me, but I don't remember it.

I ponder on how interesting it is that I can turn into other characters in my dreams, and then utterly become the character. I land back on the ground and shapeshift. I'm Neil Caffrey from White Collar.

I wake up again, but I fall asleep right away. I'm back in the dream, muttering about dream-chaining and going over the events of the previous dream so I don't forget them.

I talk to a DC who's supposed to be a newborn cousin. She can say her own name, but is unable to pronounce most words. It's an interesting conversation.

Sears. Scare Factor: 2.

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.)

Sunday, June 27, 2010

My journey from ambitious underling to rival archangel.

I'm sitting at my desk, poring over some ancient text, but my mind is elsewhere. My team has just made a fascinating discovery, a book that could unlock ancient magics unknown even to the angels. Whomever can harness its power could go so far as to take over the world.

Unfortunately, we're working for Lucifer (from Supernatural). It's not by choice, I can assure you.


Sandman!Lucifer could kick your ass.

I hear the alarm go off. Immediately, I'm running down the stairs to our secret underground laboratory. The place is collapsing; dirt is streaming from the walls and rocks are falling around me. I run to the desk where Lucifer was working earlier, and grab the grimoire, the codex (decoder), and the journal that he was translating it into. Beside the books is a black LED keychain that's supposed to be a portkey. I pick it up, but nothing happens.

I'm running for the exit, not sure if I'm going to make it. I'm at the entrance hallway, but all of the main-level exits are blocked. An old man - possibly Amon - appears beside me. He says that there's a ladder I can use.

Sure enough, there is. I climb up the ladder - Amon is behind me - and we both make it out.

Lucifer is in the common area, sitting at a table with his head in his hands. He looks really mad - probably because the grimoire is lost. I try to turn down another hallway, but he sees me and the grimoire before I have the chance to leave. Suddenly, Lucifer seems very pleased.

Once we're out of sight, I turn around and smack Amon over the head, wondering why he had to take us directly past Lucifer. Comprehension dawns on his face, and he asks me if I was trying to betray our boss.

Yes! Obviously!

Amon wants to know if I really think I can get away with it, but I shrug and tell him I'm not worried.

Lucifer corners me later and asks why I'm not grateful that he brought me back to life.

What? Of course I would be... oh, I remember now. My character was really mad for some reason.

"Thanks for that, by the way," I say. I'm still taking over.

---

I'm at some Misha Collins fan-thing. Everyone around me is all excited, but I have things to do. I go and try on jeans in a store. They don't fit, and I'm tired of clothes-shopping already.

---

On a bus, I see Lucifer again. He's avoiding me. I try to unobtrusively sit beside him, but he switches seats when people get up to leave.

I see Sally, from school, is on the bus too. This can't end well.

Why am I not worried about myself, though?

Oh, right. I'm Michael. Duh.

I tell Sally that she has to get off the bus. People are turning into piles of maggots around us, and she has to leave before she does too.

"Ask the bus driver to open the door." I say.

She points to the bus driver, who's a pile of bugs covering all the controls.

I run over to the front of the bus. I plunge my hands into the squirming mass of maggots (and I can feel them wriggling all over my skin), and pull the lever for the door to open. Sally gets off the bus and starts running.

All of the maggots on the bus are streaming towards Lucifer, somehow going to power him. He looks weak right now, though. He's lying down on one of the seats, and I go over to him.

He asks me if I'm going to give one of those good-guy speeches about love an acceptance. I tell him that just because I turned out to be an angel (again) doesn't mean I'm one of the good guys.

I call up a small amount of light energy to cleanse the pile of bugs. It starts off tiny, and gets bigger and bigger...

---

I'm in a dark hallway with the same LED keychain from earlier. The small flashlight doesn't actually create light, though. When I click it once, the lights go on. When I click it again, the lights go off. Every second time I click it, something scary happens in the hallway, and if I'm in the hallway when it happens... who knows?

Holly, from high school, shows up, talking about Sailor Moon. I'm at the top of the staircase, and I think she's one of my enemies. When she's almost at the top, I telekinetically blast her down the stairs.

She gets up and informs me that it wasn't very nice to do that. I shrug and apologize, sheepish. Apparently she actually is on my side.

---

I'm watching clips of a cartoon. It's about animals running farms. I think this is ironic, and the cows suddenly start acting strange.

There's a little yellow chick trapped in a flipped-over bus that's about to explode. The other animals are trying to figure out how to rescue him.

One of the adults holds up a diagram of a kite, which the people inside the bus can hold onto and fly out the door with.

I'm flying with the kite over a sea-side city. I'm just over power lines, and I don't want to hit them. I'm on top of a marina. I have to make it past the cruise ships, out to sea so I can fall into the water.

The Devil You Don't. Scare Factor: 4.