Things to Run Away From Really Fast

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.

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.