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    Thread: Things To Run Away From Really Fast!

    1. #26
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      Obviously, I've been watching too much Supernatural.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #27: Skinwalkers.

      I've somehow been entered into a race that involves hopping on one foot and a flutter-board. I argue that 5K is a long way to hop on one foot.


      idek.

      I'm crowded into the entrance of a bar. I think these are people that my brother knows. I notice that one guy is acting suspicious, so I follow him outside and onto the roof. I find him threatening another man with a knife.


      You know that little voice people have that tells them to quit when they're ahead? You don't have one!

      "Hey!" I call, stepping out of the shadows. Both men turn to look at me, one still brandishing his knife.

      "Hey, calm down," I say, hoping that I don't sound patronizing, "There's no need for that, right? Put the knife down, and we can talk."

      We circle each other, and I'm moving closer with every step to the side. The third man moves away, more or less forgotten. The man with the knife focuses all his attention on me. He's not going to listen.

      I step in without warning, grab the wrist holding the knife and twist. He doesn't drop the knife, but I have a hand on it, and suddenly I can see all the outcomes of the fight at once, blood spraying everywhere. Mostly his.

      I'm sitting back in the bar with a group of people that I know. I'm invisible part of the time, so I play with the DCs a bit, asking them what they're seeing as they look at me. One replies that she can see the skull of my grandmother's rotting corpse, covered in maggots. I decide that this game isn't fun anymore.


      The police are all over the bar, trying to figure out what happened. The patrons are willfully ignoring them. I'm glad that I'm wearing black, because at least you can't see the bloodstains. I look down at my grey shirt, covered in blood. No, I was wearing black the whole time, I convince the dream. I get back into the story by willing myself into a different form. I decide to shift into a guy, because that's an unlikely disguise. Hey, I can be Jensen Ackles!


      Yay! I'm him a lot. Why?

      I consider changing eye/hair color so I don't look like an actor, but I decide that he doesn't actually exist in this universe and go talk to the cops. Because it's... fun, or something.

      There's a female detective on the roof, speculating about what happened. I see these speculations in flashbacks. The girl (me) made a grab for the knife, she says, and cut her attacker, injuring him. Then he killed her, and disposed of the body somewhere.


      Not nearly this cool.

      I'm somewhat insulted, actually, but it helps me put the pieces together. I must have won the fight. Since the man with the knife is missing, I probably accidentally killed him and disposed of the body somewhere. Wow, do they have it backwards.

      Nobody wonders where the third man went.

      They're talking about fingerprints, so I decide this would be a good time to change mine. I will the change, and zoom back into watching an onscreen sequence of the patterns changing.

      Skinwalkers are the bad guys, right? I wonder on the irony of shifting into Dean Winchester as a shapeshifter. Am I evil right now? Maaaybe.

      I converse with the suspicious detective who probably suspects me for something. I swing around the wire fences on the rooftops for a bit, before coming back to the ground where the detective is waiting on a park bench. Apparently we had a long, in-depth conversation that I can't remember, because she actually trusts me a bit now. Yay, we're friends. Or possible love-interests. Hm.

      The detective is wondering if I'll be okay to get home by myself, being as it's after dark in a city infested by the supernatural. I assure her that I'll be fine (being as I'm one of the supernatural monsters everyone seems to be afraid of). I check the area, zooming out to the east, where I'm headed. Dark alleys lit by an orange glow. I zoom out to the west, only to find a pack of Dark Jedi closing in on us, jumping around as NPCs do in Jedi Academy. I spot a couple of green and blue lightsabers among all the red, mostly carried by those wielding dual lightsabers.

      "We should go," I say, still tracking the pack remotely. "We should go now." I'm more concerned about the detective than myself. I heal fast.

      We walk eastwards away from the group, hoping that we won't bait them if we don't run away.

      They catch up to us. Immediately, I draw dual sabers in red and blue, slashing down the first two Dark Jedi to reach us. I take down another, still standing protectively in front of the detective. I rush out past a female Dark Jedi, striking her in the back before she can turn. Finally, there are two left. I face the leader and send one of my sabers flying at his remaining minion. She's down. I rush the leader with a flurry of strikes.

      No effect.

      I pause in my offensive. "Okay," I tell him, "That was at least three direct strikes to your neck, minimum. You should be dead." He just grins.

      A blow to the arm, and I have him disarmed. I grab him by the hair and slash across his neck. "Are. You. Dead. Yet?" I ask the disembodied head. That would be a yes.

      Also, fail for lack of gore.

      I'm covered in blood, so I figure now is a good time for a tactical retreat. We make it to the Best Western where I've made a reservation. I figure we have a half hour to shower and make ourselves presentable (read: not covered in blood) before the antagonists start to come after us.

      "I'd offer 'ladies first'", but I'm the one who looks like a walking horror movie right now."

      Unfortunately, I'm really bad with numbers when I'm dreaming, so we end up wandering the halls looking for the hotel room. Which is on the third floor. No, the first. No, the second. Wait, are we in a hostel?

      Skinwalkers. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: Violence is fun.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    2. #27
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #28: Dude, Where's My Car?

      I'm wandering around a casino parking lot, looking for my car. Two other people are there, one of whom I met at a first aid course a couple weeks ago. The other one might be my friend Miranda. I think I spot my car, but it turns out it belongs to Mel, the first aid girl. It looks remarkably similar to my car until I realize that the plates don't match. My plates are --- ---, I remember with perfect clarity. Also, she parked rather crazily, and apparently I consider myself the better driver. We then find my dad's car close by. Maybe I drove this one? No.

      Making out with a girl in a bathroom.

      Having a conversation on another forum about whether I can be considered bisexual if I'm pansexual. Um... yes.

      Dude, Where's My Car? Scare Factor: 1. Reaction: There goes a dream-sign.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    3. #28
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      Post

      Accidentally submitted this before I was finished writing. What the hell?

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #29: LG's Got a Gun.

      I'm drinking. A lot. At a bar. I'm wondering if it's Saturday night and I missed the meetup with Vicki. I see Matt and Jen from High School on the other side of the bar, and debate over whether I want to talk to them. I've been drinking things like rum and coke all night, and now I've moved onto Pinot Gris. I guess. It tastes like champagne.

      I'm in the backyard of the Ixburg Inn, having been ordered to clean up the scaffolding houses by my dad. I notice movement in another yard, a brief dark flash. I watch the roof of a nearby building for another sign of it. There's a dirtbiker up there. My mom and I watch him ramp from that roof an impossible distance over the highway. He lands badly, but that was supposed to happen. He's fine.

      At a fair, I argue with Gus about something. I'm Shawn Spencer, and my dad (Henry) is around, too. The fair has a layout suspiciously similar to the backyard I was just in.

      As myself, I put the truck in park, turn off the ignition, and raise my hands slowly. I'm turning toward the man in the passenger seat, who is happily delivering his Hannibal Lecture while pointing a gun at me. It's a revolver, I notice.



      He explains to me that the time I was born can be flipped backwards to show the time it is right now. "You see," he says to me, "This time is the antithesis of your birth."

      "Yes, that's very poetic."

      I'm ordered out of the truck. I keep my hands up as I follow his orders, stepping onto the green grass in the backyard of my house. I know that there are kids inside the house, quite possibly my cousins. At this point in the dream, though, I think they might be mine.

      I try to bargain with the man, but I know that he's going to kill me. If I resist, he says he'll kill everyone inside, but I can't be sure that he won't do that anyway. We circle each other over the grass. The man tells me that these bullets were specially made for me.

      Don't I feel special.

      The gun wavers for a moment, and I take my chance. I lash out with a kick to his wrist, then grab for the gun. I pick it up and aim at my tormentor. He raises his hands and grins, daring me to do it.

      I can't. I empty the revolver of the gold bullets. They spill to the ground, and I scramble for the six of them. I stumble backward as the man laughs. I step inside, latching the glass patio door behind me.

      "Go downstairs," I order my cousins. "Get one of the adults to call 911. Ask for police!" I shout at their retreating backs. I move through the house, locking and bolting the other two doors shut.

      "So..." says my uncle, "We're safe as long as we don't go outside."

      I consider the patio door, how easily the man could get in. "We're safe." I lie.

      "Wait," I say after a beat, "Has anyone called 911?"

      I curse and grab for the nearest black portable phone. I dial three numbers. "Hello, I need police at -" Silence on the other end. I glance at the display and read 901. Great. I'm wandering down the stairs at this point, redialling the number repeatedly to no effect. I see a flash of the man, laughing. I consider that he might have cut the phone lines.

      "Does anyone have a cell phone?" I shout into the basement, frustrated and panicking. I begin redialling numbers on a blackberry no one gave me. 090. 901. 109. 119. My frustration reaches a peak -

      And I realize that this is always what happens in dreams. I look up the stairs to the side door, reasoning that I fell asleep in my bedroom and there's no way I could actually be here. I walk up the stairs, touching things (the bannister, the wall), feeling the texture in order to solidify the dream. I'm worried about waking up. I unlock the door, open it. When I step outside, it's dark, and there's a layer of snow on the damp ground.

      I move toward the street, making footprints as I go. I look up to the night sky, which is clear and filled with stars.

      "Go to the moon," I whisper aloud. "Go to the moon."

      I stretch a hand out in front of me, willing a portal to open, for something to happen. A pulse radiates outward from my hand, blurring everything briefly and circling behind me. I can still see the stars. The dream dissolves.


      I'm in some kind of afterlife realm, filled with ribbons and people and flying. I'm attached to the colour yellow, which I hate. I try flying, but can only achieve a delayed falling effect.

      LG's Got a Gun. Scare Facter: 4.5. Reaction: Lucidity!

      I did the faux-math LG was trying to tell me about. Apparently I'm supposed to die next week. Saturday-ish.
      Last edited by Samael; 04-02-2010 at 07:22 PM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    4. #29
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      I had all these grand plans for lucidity, but when you're relying on DILDs, plans don't always work out so well.

      I have a plan to call LG to talk to him, using the gold bullets that he left with my dream-self in "LG's Got a Gun". McAnally's is a fictional bar in Chicago that magical beings often use for meetings because it's considered neutral ground. I hope to meet with him there because it's a relatively safe place.

      Also "the Lunar God" character might be interfering with my travel to the moon.

      Dream stories are fun.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #30: City-Fusions

      I'm walking around a version of the grocery store in Ixburg which I've seen before. Produce by the entrance to the southwest, ceiling-high shelving running east-west all through the store like a warehouse. I'm looking for strawberries.

      Still in the grocery store, I'm now a different character. I'm an employee and also some kid genius version of myself from an alternate timeline that I can't recall the gender of. I help someone with a difficult problem. They try to complement me, but I tell them, "Hey, I just work in a grocery store."

      I don't and never have in real life.

      Now I'm in a strange mix of Halifax and Quickton, where the rivers cross through the city, forcing roads to follow bridges and riverbanks. It's topsy-turvy, and hilly, and it's a bright, sunny day.

      Various members of my family, including aunts and uncles, are waiting on the patio section of a restaurant, looking at menus and hoping someone will get around to serving us eventually. I'm looking at the menu, unable to find anything that's vegetarian, but the menu itself is really hard to decipher. A waitress shows up to say we're supposed to be ordering right now, but they're really busy, so is it all right if we just wait a bit?

      My mom, another woman (possibly Sandra, my mom's friend), and myself go to check out another restaurant. When we get there, we notice that our other group hasn't been served yet, either. It's a lose/lose situation, I guess.

      Sandra is driving. We cross a bridge and are headed downward on a slight slope when, from the passenger seat, I notice a truck heading toward us has suddenly flipped into the air without warning. "Whoa." is the collective consensus. Sandra hasn't slowed down and I call her on it. The truck is still flipping, and it's starting to roll into our lane. As we get closer, the truck flips up into the air again, and we zoom safely underneath.



      "Nice timing!" I say to Sandra.

      I'm still in the Halifax/Quickton hybrid, zooming across the city at a bird's eye view. I think about karate classes once a week, and the fact that I keep moving from city to city, changing up disciplines and instructors. I'm a martial artist, I think to myself, I need to take my training into my own hands. A flash of me running down a dirt trail.

      City-Fusions. Scare Factor: 1. Reaction: I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #31: Buffy, When You're Quite Possibly Evil, Maybe.

      I am, once again, my female Lucifer character, where I introduce myself to people as Sam. I'm following a version of the character in which I'm sent from place to place through dimensional portals. I open the portals myself, but I have no idea where they lead to when I step through. I don't remember most of this dream, which is a shame, because it was fun. I think.

      I've secured myself an invite into the apartment. I don't need it; it's just polite. I open up the window and step inside and -

      splash

      - find myself doused in holy water. It has no effect, of course.

      Buffy is very suspicious of me, for good reason, I suppose. I'm not actually an antagonist to her and Angel, though. This time.

      Buffy, When You're Quite Possibly Evil, Maybe. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: I really wish I could remember more of this.

      Edited for redundancy.
      Last edited by Samael; 04-05-2010 at 07:06 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    5. #30
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      Has anyone else noticed how being (really, really, really) drunk can feel like dreaming? RC, RC, RC. Anyway, the following dreams are so fragmented I have no idea where each one ends or the order in which they occurred.

      Things To Run Away From Really Fast #32: Unconscious Desires to Move to a New City. Again. Now.


      I'm checking out a gym in the new city I've apparently moved to. It's based in a university/college/high school, and membership is affordable.

      A group of (mostly female) students are being led around by their female teacher. Some of the girls need to use the bathroom, so the group is collectively looking for one. They're in subway tunnels now, and the teacher is talking to a bouncer outside some kind of establishment, who won't let them in because they're women or minors or both.

      I'm talking to my brother, Ben, at some kind of family gathering on a farm, when he starts quoting The Spoony One verbatim while we're talking about a game. Movie. Book. IDEK. Anyway, I call him on it, but he has no idea what I'm talking about. My cousin Reg, who's the same age as my brother, says he got to see a screening of that once. They're online videos, I tell him. What the hell.

      We're trying to watch The Daily Show, but Ben tells me that we can't watch the episode because it's only on the US version of the site. I explain to him how you can use an add-on for Firefox to - ahem. Never mind.

      Running up the stairs at the farm.

      Someone explains to me that the farm is in danger and we have this plot going on to save it. Jill rolls her eyes and tells me to run because I'll never hear the end of it.

      "I'm dreaming." I realize at some point. I blink in surprise. "How am I lucid?" I wasn't planning on having any lucid dreams tonight.


      I'm going for a quick meal in Tim Hortons, trying to decipher the menu and remember what I can eat. I really want some chicken noodle soup, but I can't eat it since I'm vegetarian. I could get a bagel, but I don't really want a bagel. When I step outside again, I continue with my dream. Apparently I'm a student in some Squamish/Halifax hybrid. There are mountains in the not-so-far-away distance, and one in particular is relevant to the plot. So are the houses I'm biking towards.

      Unconscious Desires to Move to a New City. Again. Now. Scare Factor: 1.


      I'm debating on whether to count this under monthly lucid dream totals. On the one hand, most definitely lucid. On the other, very short, with little to no influence exerted on the dream. That I can remember, anyway.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    6. #31
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      Quote Originally Posted by Samael View Post
      Has anyone else noticed how being (really, really, really) drunk can feel like dreaming? RC, RC, RC.
      that's what I said just two nights ago! i was only buzzed and we were watching a movie and I told my buddy "I'm watching this movie but it feels like im actually not." he understood me luckily because he's a dreamer here too. anyways very interesting style of DJ. i skimmed through some of the dreams and they're very interesting.
      Samael likes this.

    7. #32
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      Quote Originally Posted by scottyo
      "I'm watching this movie but it feels like im actually not." he understood me luckily because he's a dreamer here too.
      Haha, I may have mumbled something to that effect the other night, but the people with me were most definitely not deliberate dreamers. Right over their heads. Of course, it's entirely possible that I was just making no sense whatsoever.

      Quote Originally Posted by scottyo
      anyways very interesting style of DJ. i skimmed through some of the dreams and they're very interesting.
      Thanks! I'm having fun with it.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    8. #33
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      I woke up not remembering any of my dreams. Fortunately, I had enough time to reflect on the one thing I did remember: doing laundry. Because it's laundry day.

      Also, I had a bunch of dreams in imaginary places that I can remember from other dreams. I think.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #33: Familiar Places


      I take out the one item of clothing in the washing machine that was, apparently, very important to wash separately. I throw in the rest of the clothes, consider using oxyclean, and wash on hot. When I go upstairs, I'm in my old apartment in Ixburg. The dishwasher is in front of the sink, so apparently I'm doing dishes as well.

      ***

      I enter the building through the only set of doors that are open. Apparently it's not the entrance I'm supposed to use, though. I talk to a middle-aged woman with short red hair, who tells me off and gives me directions. I head past the stairs and onto a set of escalators. Presumably, these will take me to the elevators. I need to use the elevator because this is a really tall building that I've dreamed about before. Something about an orchestra.

      ***

      I'm dreaming about university classes. A photo of me working on the project outside. There's a rack of clothing in the background, sitting just outside of the open door of a store. High quality clothes, a lot of black. All very feminine, though. I think I need to talk to my professor about something related to the project.

      ***

      We're going on an impromptu trip, just because. Also, a national/provincial park in BC (which was also in another dream, which involved running and rock climbing) demands that we return the photos we took there. I tell my mom to make copies and send them, but to keep the originals. I'll take down the ones that I (did not) post to my online dream journal. The photos look remarkably similar to the ones I took in Squamish.


      You will never take my pictures away. I will not allow it.

      We were planning to go north to go skiing, but Castiel wants to go east because he's never been. We think we might not have time to get anywhere interesting on this road trip, but we go anyway. (I think we split into two groups. One goes west, one goes east.)

      We're in Halifax. I'm thrilled, pointing out all of the imaginary landmarks that I see. My mom is driving through a strange version of downtown Halifax where all of the buildings are even closer together and the streets lead into each other in ways that they don't in real life. Also, running on the rooftops in dream!Halifax would be delightful.

      There's a detour to my old apartment. We stop in to see my building manager. My mom wants to talk to him about something specific, but I'm just there to say hi, I guess. He now has a fancy glass office where the elevators used to be. He's talking on the phone right now, so I distract myself while we wait.

      I overhear my mom talking about/pointing at camping equipment. I ask if we're going camping because that would be awesome but what are we going to use because we packed really light? I have a bookbag worth of clothes that might actually be carried in Amelia Pond's suitcase from the Eleventh Hour. Which is small.

      I walk in to a huge tent that apparently has some of my old stuff in it. I don't recognize any of it, but rationalize that something mundane and forgettable, like the broom in the corner, could very well be mine.

      When I walk out of the tent, my high school classmates are sitting on the lawn, drinking. Someone pours me a rum and coke. Matt regales me with a "when I was a bartender" story and teases me about the hangover I had yesterday. I'm a bit defensive, saying that I did pretty well for someone who rarely drinks.

      I walk into an apartment on the first floor, waving to my old classmates as I go. I press along the wall near the thermostat, and a second room opens. I guess that this is a bedroom I left here. I set down my mini-suitcase, somewhat glad that I still have (outdoorsy) clothes here. Oh, and apparently I'm Batgirl.

      ***

      This dream occurs frame by frame, manga style. Most of it is even in black and white. Ed is singing into a tape recorder about alchemy. There may even be text balloons. A caption says that alchemists are obsessed, and don't think of anything other than alchemy, ever. Alphonse wanders through, still armor, and wants to know what the hell is going on. Ed happily explains that he's recording a tape for their recently discovered grandmother. Alphonse is understandably disturbed.

      Familiar Places. Scare Factor: 1. Reaction: I'm sure I've seen those places before.
      Last edited by Samael; 04-05-2010 at 08:02 PM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    9. #34
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      frick I had my first freaky dream in a long time last night. first one since joining DV and I think me reading your scary dreams provoked them. not to make you feel bad, just thought you'd think it was interesting.
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      That's too bad, scottyo. I hope they were at least fun, adventure filled freaky dreams, though that might be overly optimistic, huh?

      I guess I'll get to read about it at the end of the week, yeah? We can bounce nightmares back and forth.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    11. #36
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      Non-lucidSemi-LucidLucid

      I concocted a plan to confront LG, utilizing the golden bullets he left me. This is the plan:

      Quote Originally Posted by Sam's spiral bound notebook
      Note: this is not a dream.

      I'm standing by the Bar in McAnally's, the pub in Dresdenverse Chicago. The building is established neutral ground, and the place is specifically designed to break up magical energies. Its design is broken up into odd nooks and crannies perfect for a dream walk.

      I order two beer from Mac and take them, handing Mac a twenty with my right hand as I hold the other two in my left. I thank him and make my way to a nearby table. I set down the beers.

      I reach into the right pocket of my jeans, where I put the golden bullets LG had threatened me with. I place them on the table in front of me and look up at the ceiling while sipping on my beer. It tastes like I imagine butterbeer would: rich and sweet. Inexplicable.

      "You really expect me to drink this?"

      I open my eyes to find the Lunar God eying me skeptically. I relax and take another sip.

      "I would have ordered a bottle of Pinot Gris again, but I'm really not in the mood for champagne."

      The Lunar God leans forward over the table. "Sam." He says, "No games. What do you want?"

      I'm wary of him. "I want to know who you are."

      He leans back in his chair, satisfied. I watch the smirk form on his face and settle in for a round of bargaining. I don't forget that those little golden bullets on the table have been used to try to claim my life.
      This is the result.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #34: Failed Interrogations

      I'm with the Joker in an armoured truck in a scene eerily reminiscent of Fight Club. Now, what could that mean?


      You're just a freak, like me!

      I'm following two characters and a potential horror movie from a third person point of view. At one point, I accidentally possess one of the characters and take some time off from the plot to... dye my hair. So yeah.

      Same location. I'm waiting for my karate class to start. I check my watch, and it's 6:90PM. I guess I'm late. No, wait, this is a dream sign. I look around, confused, because this doesn't really feel like a dream. I pay more attention to my surroundings, and realize that it actually is a dream. I stop to savour the amazing feeling of being lucid.

      "I'm dreaming," I say, and I start to repeat it to myself as I move around the dream-world.
      I'm not feeling very well, so I go to grab something from the fridge (in a place I've never been). I'm craving rasberries. When I open the fridge door, I find clear Yop yogurt containers filled with frozen rasberries. I eat a few.

      I'm moving toward the exit when Ben stops me and wants me to listen to a song. It's rap music. I'm not interested, and there was something I wanted to do tonight, so I'm busy. A brief wrestling match with my brother ensues, but I shake him off and run to the exit. A steel staircase leads to a latched window.


      I will the window to be open. I crawl out and latch it behind me.

      I remember that I wanted to go to McAnally's to meet with the Lunar God character. I stretch a hand out in front of me and will the dream to dissolve. I close my eyes briefly, but when I open them, the green grass and concrete and sun are still there. Energy continues to swirl around me. I close my eyes again, and push through the dream-fabric.

      When I open my eyes again, I can't see anything. Everything is dark, though coloured energy swirls through the space to break up the monotony. There seems to be a slight tear in the dream, so I move toward it (zooming closer, not walking). I drop to my knees and feel for the wooden door that I'm sure should be there. I imagine the texture, feel for iron handles of the closed door. I visualize the grain of the wood that should be there, the glass that is set into it.

      "Open the door," says Mac, rolling his eyes. "We keep them open while we're open."

      I stand up and dust myself off, looking at the four pointed star mounted on the door, just above my eye level. Did I create that?


      The dream star was more ornate.

      I shake off the strange feeling and move to the bar beside the door. This isn't anything like I'd imagined the place to be. The wood is darker, glossier, and everything is more streamlined than I'd expected.

      "Two beer." I say to Mac. I dig through my pockets for the twenty that should be there, but I only find a bunch of change in my right pocket, where the bullets should be. Loonies, toonies, quarters. I apologize for paying in change, and I give him the $20 pile of change, minus the six loonies I need for LG. I consider that since we're in Chicago, I should have given him American money. I let my hand hover over the pile of change, and will it into American bills. The money flickers and I see paper. I'm not sure if it worked.

      Mac waves me off, and I grab the beer and my loonies, setting them both down on a round wooden table near the bar.


      "Aw, you don't need to do that," says a voice, "You already paid for drinks."

      "These aren't coins," I say, turning to look at what I think is the Lunar God. He's younger than any incarnation I've seen before. He grins in understanding and takes a seat.

      I take a sip of the beer. It tastes like Pilsner.

      There's a third person at the table, whom I never acknowledge. Her (?) presence seems shadowy, dark, barely there. I think it's Elaine.

      A girl comes up to LG and asks if it's okay if she leaves with someone.

      "Yes." says one of us, before LG can comment. We kind of need to talk to him.

      Unfortunately, LG's very presence seems to destabilize all dreams, and I can't remember a damn thing after that. Including whether I still have the bullets.

      Failed Interrogations. Scare Factor: 3. Reaction: I need a new plan.
      Last edited by Samael; 04-06-2010 at 10:03 PM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    12. #37
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      Quote Originally Posted by Samael View Post
      I guess I'll get to read about it at the end of the week, yeah? We can bounce nightmares back and forth.
      yeah i guess you figured out that i post at the end of the week all at once.
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    13. #38
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      Well, it makes sense. Better to post on a schedule you can keep up. I think the last day I actually posted was Tuesday...

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    14. #39
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      Mostly fragments these last few days. I haven't been sleeping well.

      Also, I've dyed my hair dark brown. Dreams seem to take a while to catch up on these things.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #35: A Pirate's Life.

      Below deck, on this particular pirate ship, there is a structure made with cooked spaghetti. We're sitting around it in a circle, making fun of Dean Winchester as he tries to add noodles to the structure, Jenga-style. He loses balance and half the structure collapses around him. The group laughs uproariously, and it's the next guy's turn.

      I'm standing on deck, looking out over the water. Apparently we're being sold into slavery. Those of us in this very special group are making some very necessary escape plans.

      "Have you ever been to [Modern Tortuga Expy]?" Asks Jack O'Neill from beside me.

      I'm a short-haired blonde, badass and immortal, and I've been everywhere, man. "I'm familiar with the area," I say, and pause, considering. "I hope they've forgotten about me."

      Now that we're on shore, we can put those plans into motion. We just need to make some tiny adjustments to fit the current situation. I'm standing next to our packed-together bunk-beds with O'Neill. All we need to do is lure one of the guards close enough...

      A jaffa guard approaches us, demanding to know why we're breaking curfew.

      I look at O'Neill, shrug. "No time like the present."

      We escape.

      Shift.

      I wander the same environment in my real life persona, trying to remember where I parked, and if it was in a tow-away zone. Several days have passed.

      Shift.

      I decide to go to one city or another. Calgary? I'm driving badly, wondering belatedly why I'm cutting so many people off. I end up walking into a store that I'm apparently the manager of. I watch someone in another store across the mallway play the guitar. I pull out an electric guitar from my stuff, even though I cannot play the guitar.

      Shift.

      I'm in Quickton, riding a bicycle and absently wondering why there are so many hills. I talk to a DC, a woman I apparently don't like very much, and retroactively acquire memories of whatever it is she's talking about.

      Shift.

      I'm on a farm for yet another family reunion. I'm pushing a steak around on my plate, mildly discomfited to realize that I've already been eating it. I decide to finish it anyway and ignore anything the anti-vegetarians around me decide to say. There's a woman with long, dark hair sitting beside me. She seems uncomfortable with all the religious proselytizing going on. I assure her that most of the godless heathens in the family (myself included) have already eaten.

      Shift.

      Playing with a dog.

      Shift.

      I'm to play the bad guy in some game. I adopt an atrocious English accent and hope the one English woman running around somewhere won't be too offended.

      Shift.

      I'm a female lawyer with an English accent, long dark hair, and a crisp grey pantsuit. I'm also very good at what I do. Also, evil.

      Shift.

      I'm jumping through impossible puzzles suspended over darkness. I'm communicating with someone via radio. I drop the rope. I jump down a couple levels, only to find it all tangled up. I'm presently annoyed by all that is paranormal, so I use a magic trick to cause the rope to "magically" raise itself to the next level. It involves wire.

      Shift.

      I'm standing in front of a magic shop.

      Shift.

      I'm in a mall. As Barbara Gordon, I talk to a cannibalistic hyena man. I'm replacing my right arm with something, and the hyena man tells me that they've ripped my arm off (before I jumped into the character) to make me more appetizing. I leave.

      A Pirate's Life. Scare Factor: 3.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    15. #40
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #36: Demon Barbers, Malfunctioning Portals.

      Two characters are around my old apartment in Ixburg. They look like Johnny Depp and Robert Downey Jr.. I play with story lines and wonder what's about to happen. Then I'm running over rooftops and away from Sweeney Todd.

      I'm on the roof and he's on the ground. I double back quickly, jumping down and landing a flying kick to his head. Then I turn around and keep running.

      I'm in a playground, on top of one of the structures. There's a man with me. He has the head of an eagle, and wings. He tells me that something is out of alignment within me, that my back hurts because of it. I see tattoos dancing across skin as he presses into the pressure points on my back. I see his wings spread out above, and ask if I can touch them. He tells me not to.

      I decide I liked the old tower better, even if it was less accessible. I crawl in through the window and realize that someone is lying on the floor. I ask him if he has a pulse. He says that he doesn't.

      I fall into an ocean of black water. I swim to the surface, take a breath. I'm treading water for only a moment before I'm pulled under again. Everything is fuzzy, but I keep breathing, and I realize that I'm dreaming. I swim to the bottom, covered in dark grey silt, and maybe a shipwreck or two. I concentrate on dissolving the dream or opening a portal or maybe both

      I'm balanced precariously on the dark surface, which is riddled with craters. Briefly, I believe that I've made it to the moon, but I see the crescent moon on the horizon. I think that I'm on an asteroid between the Earth and the moon. I walk over the crest of the asteroid (10m in diametre), and look out at the moon. I'm perched at the top of a crater. I'm pressed against the ceiling, and
      everything is going dark.

      I'm in Ixburg. My parent's house is next to my oma's house as part of a duplex. The door is unlocked. I talk to my oma and am invited in. We make room for the group of Katimavik kids that are in town.

      Outside fighting against some kind of non-human enemy. My character isn't supposed to have superpowers, but I do anyway. I see myself flying from a third person POV.

      Demon Barbers, Malfunctioning Portals. Scare Factor: 3.

      P.S. Obviously, I'm still alive. So much for prophecy.
      Last edited by Samael; 04-11-2010 at 07:34 PM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    16. #41
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      This dream was confusing.

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #37: Murder Mysteries

      I'm walking along a path by the river in Quickton. There are a large number of orangutan/dog/otter hybrids about, and the locals have been warned to stay away from them. One that looks like a great dane approaches me and jumps up, trying to lick at my face. I laugh.

      Shift.


      I practically fall out of the truck when we reach the police station. "It's okay", says Kate Beckett, "You're safe here."

      My POV switches to Beckett, who's trying to solve the mystery of the invisible animalistic murderer. I'm now interacting with myself ("Sam") as the character Kate Beckett. I note that we don't have much ammo.

      An Asian woman stumbles toward the safety of the police station. Already, she's bleeding from numerous slashes to her torso, which look almost like claw marks. The monster must have followed us here.

      Sam mysteriously disappears, and we assume the worst.

      I interrogate people who are the collective head of an international company. Someone sabotages the elevator, almost killing one of them.

      They upgrade security.

      The elevator is sabotaged again. I almost catch the culprit, but I have to stay in order to save the people inside. I catch the chain of the machine used for sabotage, and pull it up to a floor where they'll be able to get out.

      The Chairman of the company is killed. The CEO chooses to reveal his identity.

      The murderer decides to talk to me. It's Sam, complete with all my lucid superpowers. Apparently, I was the murderer all along. I'm watching myself give a villainous monologue. From a third person perspective apart from Beckett's character, I'm very surprised.

      Murder Mysteries. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: Did not see that coming.

      I'm working on a short-story adaptation of this dream, minus the identity confusion. It was actually a lot of fun.
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      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    17. #42
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      I find it quite interesting that you dreamt from someone else's perspective. I think I will make it a goal of mine, though I am not sure how well it would work considering I already dream in 3rd person. Cool dream still though!
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    18. #43
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      @RomanSoldier: It was an odd experience, to say the least. Apparently my dream-avatar had a mind of its own.

      Non-LucidSemi-LucidLucid

      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #38: Witch Trials

      I hop on a bus with a duffel bag and a backpack, headed out to Halifax. I arrive at the hostel. There's a book sale in one of the rooms. I gravitate toward the back corner and recognize the cover for a Sherlock Holmes collection. I open it up, pleasantly surprised to find the book full of illustrations. I head over to another corner by the windows and flip through a few children's books for reference. The illustrations in every book are watercolour and ink or acrylic and ink. They have a grainy, spooky tone to them and some of the watercolour scenes are brilliant. I pick out a few and head to cash.

      "You've got two books there?"

      I glance down at the pile in my arms. "More than that," I say.

      She rolls her eyes. "I'm charging you for five, then. Your total is $4.25."

      I hand her a five dollar bill and get three quarters back. Looking at the pile again, I realize that there's actually six books, but one is only a few torn out pages. Fair enough, I decide. I head back to my room to pack.

      I'm looking at a shelf full of food and wondering when I found the time to buy all of this. I pack it away (bread goes squish) along with the books. It's a perfect fit, but I'm going to be annoyed travelling with all this luggage.

      Chel, a girl who was a grade above me in high school, arrives as I'm leaving. We have an excited conversation involving the odds of meeting up on the other side of the country.

      I decide to stop in Quickton before heading to Vancouver. For a break in a long goddamn bus ride, if nothing else. The bus station by the Westin is suddenly a part of Ixburg.

      ***

      In Quickton, grocery shopping. Sprained left leg, hobbling along, wondering where my crutches went. I limp along on my left ankle after I get tired of hopping. It hurts, but it could be worse. I talk to my late grandma.

      ***

      Still in Quickton, I'm on trial as a witch. The woman accusing me is a made up character who, apparently, went to high school with me. I spend most of the trial resisting the urge to burn her alive via dream-powers. Apparently that wouldn't help my case much.

      I'm defending myself; no lawyers allowed. I catch the woman in the middle of a lie and ruthlessly pounce on it, drawing out answers that prove she wasn't where she said she was. Something about flowers that are yellow and in a pot. Daisies, probably.

      I'm not sure if my argument's had any effect on the jury yet, so when the Judge asks me about the green lightsaber they have in custody, I immediately reply, "My lightsabers aren't green." I consider summoning my dual sabers to the courtroom, but again, supernatural powers are not what anyone needs to see right now.

      I go into a tangent, wondering what my colour actually is. Purple is tempting, and I've always been partial to red and blue, but orange is pretty close and I'm not genuinely Sith-like (far too dogmatic for me). I don't really like orange much, though. I swing a couple orange sabers around in the hallway just to try them out.

      I'm sitting back in my box with my arch-nemesis a couple places down, wondering if the trial can adjourn for the day. It's almost five and I'm bored.

      We all go home for the night. I've been released into the custody of my parents, so I'm walking into a bigger version of their house, kicking off my shoes as I go. I'm picking up a piece of paper that might be an assassination contract a la Assassin's Creed. Unfortunately, without some serious creativity, I won't be able to collect on it. I'm supposed to stay here, after all...


      Witch Trials. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: I think I was completely guilty of everything I was accused of.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    19. #44
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #39: Misogynists, Scientists, Doctors, Little Girls, Monsters, and Faeries

      I'm in the local theatre with a group of girls. Apparently we're about to play out The Handmaid's Tale, and as I'm not a fan of that particular dystopia, I'd rather not. As soon as everyone's asleep, I wake up another girl and start running.

      In retrospect, it would have been smarter to leave her behind.

      We're fleeing down a gold-gilded hallway toward a mirror I plan to use as an escape. (The mirror really exists in my parents' house.) I see a shadow run through the mirror and I attempt to follow, but I smack against it and push on the glass. I give up quickly; there's someone hot on our heels.

      We run into an empty-of-furniture bedroom, and begin to literally climb the walls looking for a way out. The closet is an escape route. I turn around to look at my fellow escapee. She's wearing the dream-avatar I was just using, complete with wild orange hair. I'm a brunette now.

      There's a third girl in the room with us.

      shift

      I'm in a high-tech facility, a space station, and I'm alone. I pickpocket an Asian woman's key card as I bump into her, and slip through a guarded door. The guard on the other side of the door, and asks for ID as I come through. I hand him the card. I strike at him. I take him down quickly, before he has a chance to call for backup.

      My presence has raised alarms. They don't know where I am, but I'm being chased. I need to move quickly.

      There's a control panel in the next room. It's triangular, with an assortment of round buttons that don't make any sense. Since I'm dreaming, only intent is important, and it doesn't matter which buttons I push. I focus on my goal, pressing buttons at random.

      This dream is exciting, so I don't abandon it. I head for the nearest set of double doors leading to a staircase.


      I find a scientist/doctor who's actually on my side. I'm sequestered in her office, and nobody will know that I'm here for a while yet. She takes a sample of my skin cells and runs a test. Surprisingly, the results indicate that I'm completely human.

      "Where's a scalpel?" I mutter. I take an x-acto knife off of the nearest counter and push the blade into my palm. Blood pools into my hand.

      "Now look," I say to the doctor. I brush the blood away from the cut, showing completely intact skin below.

      I'm trying to stay in-character as someone with a healing-factor. I move over to the sink, washing the quickly congealing blood down the drain. My logic is that you can do all sorts of nasty things to someone if you have their blood.


      I'm in the cafeteria. I'm looking for a free-run sequence. I run up the wall to an upper balcony, pulling myself up into the rafters and flinging myself forward without losing momentum. I'm trying to go up and up and

      shift

      Sam and Dean Winchester are saving people and hunting things. I'm playing as Dean while trying not to get Sam W. mixed up with my username. A man needs help rescuing his daughter and his pregnant wife from the evil scientists several Levels down. We take the elevator from Level 7 down to one of the sub levels.

      The rescue is successful, but unfortunately, both of the children are evil. We eventually convince the five-year-old not to kill us all, and she decides to be a force for good. It reminded me of the daughter of the Basanos in the Sandman spinoff, Lucifer.*



      *Super-powerful being rapes its host, host becomes pregnant, tries for a magical abortion, unborn daughter tries to kill everyone, and God's granddaughter erases everyone's memory so they can live normal, happy lives.

      John Winchester pops out of nowhere in order to tell his sons something important. Dean doesn't want to hear it, I really don't care, and Sam W.'s starting to wonder if his brother has dissociative identity disorder. Somehow, this devolves into a man-hug as I flip back and forth from a male character to a female one. No one else seems to notice.

      shift

      My character (a child) is trapped playing out endless scenarios for a... troll... or something. I'm crawling through the mud under a two-foot high bridge, eying the puddle to the centre warily. I'm pretty sure there's alligators down there, and when I think I see (sense) movement, I panic and make for dry land.

      And suddenly, I'm in control instead of the child-character.

      Fed up with such repetitive terror, I immediately make a break for it when I'm out in the open. I run past ramshackle machinery and jump into a red truck parked near the muddy road. As I start up the truck, ignoring the shrieking of the little goblin by the bridge, I notice it's a standard. Whatever, I drive a motorbike, I can make it work.

      I put the truck into gear and drive off down the road. Now it can fit one person, and there's no cab.

      Down the road, I find faeries. I'm their guest. One reminds me of Miranda, even though she looks nothing like her. This woman has long, curly brown hair, and is most definitely not Vietnamese. She looks a lot like Liv Tyler, actually.

      Fae!Miranda gives me a gift. I accept it, and go off on a mental tangent about the birthday gifts Ron and Hermione may or may not have received. Also, the fact that Miranda and I still haven't gotten together to exchange Christmas '09 gifts.

      I want to give a gift of my own. I pull out a box and hand it to the woman. We're part of a group now, sitting around a table. Fae!Miranda opens the box and pulls out a shimmery fabric that seems almost invisible. I explain that the fabric is a magic silk that will enhance - something. Maybe it has defensive powers, or turns the wearer invisible. I don't remember. It was awesome, though. I was wearing some, even.

      The silk changes to match the green of the faerie's dress, and flows into her curly hair.

      A boy across from me is angry. I receive an image of a black gown - apparently Fae!Miranda's suitor was about to give her a dress. I can feel his jealousy brimming over from across the table.

      Misogynists, Scientists, Doctors, Little Girls, Monsters, and Faeries. Scare Factor: 2. Reaction: one of these days, giving powerful gifts to potential antagonists is going to come back and bite me.

      Oh, and Photobucket's down.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    20. #45
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #40: Dream Games

      I'm looking out over a seaside city, viewing it from the cliffs above it. In dream, I decide this is Medicine Hat, AB. Which makes no sense. Groups are moving into formations of rows and columns along the ground. Zooming in, I can see marks on the ground showing the spots for certain group members to go.

      I step into place.

      There are hopscotch-style chalk lines on the ground. An oval makes up the centre ring, divided in the middle. Another, bigger oval goes around it, again with the dividing line in the centre. There are four members of each team, one in the middle and three on the outside. They play something like volleyball with two sets of balls - they have to stay inside the lines and can't land on the ground.

      I'm in the middle. We're alternately playing with bouncy balls, tennis balls, water balloons, and bell peppers. The outer group has another set going. Theirs are just smaller than volleyball size. I have to work to ignore the outer set and keep focused on the water balloons and vegetables.

      We keep smashing up our water balloons and peppers, so we have to keep tracking more down as the outer team keeps playing. I'm not very good at this game.

      Dream Games. Scare Factor: 1. Reaction: Bored.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:36 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    21. #46
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #41: Bees

      Image of a blonde woman. She looks like Ripley Grace from Avatar.

      shift

      Two groups are transported to a dark and scary place, lit up with a lot of orange. The cobblestone streets are coming loose in places, and stone structures are crumbling.

      The group that arrives ahead of us are poachers. There are four or five of them and three or four of us. We appear practically on top of them, which is Not A Good Thing, because we're rivals/enemies/nemeses of each other.

      We start to spot tiny little insects, looking like the drops of water in the first scene of Avatar (guess what movie I finally saw last week). They're bees. Honey-bees, to be precise. The bear-man in the other group freaks out and runs down a stone flight of steps, batting at the bees as he goes. I get the feeling that he's heading toward the hive.


      Run, you fools! They're trying to kill you!

      The bear-man in our group (symmetry, I suppose) suggests that we run. Quietly. In the other direction.

      shift

      I'm in the apartment in Ixburg. I'm still trying to get away from the bees, but at this point I know I'm dreaming. The goal of the dream is to get to another floor, either up or down, and the stairs would be too easy. I move away from the door, toward the master bedroom, remembering my attempts to reach an attic through a closet in a previous dream (#49: Misogynists, Scientists, Doctors, Little Girls, Monsters, and Faeries).


      Still gonna kill you.

      There's a second exit from the apartment, leading down a hallway we used for storage. I pause as I move to pass it, and decide this would be a good time to practice "Open A Door, Create A Portal". I don't really want to leave this dream, for, say, the moon, but I decide to open it up for practice anyway. I concentrate on what I'd see if I made it to the moon (the image has a moon in the sky, oops) and push the door open.

      The hallway has become a steep flight of steps leading two floors down. I'm thrilled, because regardless of my intent, this is exactly what I wanted. I fling myself down the stairs, not worried about the landing, because I'm well aware that there won't be any impact. At this point, I'm quickly moving through the building by skipping the stairs entirely. I peer down each level and jump as far as I can. At one point, I take care to concentrate entirely on the feeling of falling - as if the bottom is dropping out of my stomach. It's horrifying - and absolutely brilliant.

      I think back to something I said yesterday, that my falling dreams usually end with me bouncing off the ground. That's not quite accurate, I decide. It's more like I've jumped a foot into the air and landed toe, ball, heel.


      Or maybe it was like this!

      Nope, totally grounded.


      The actual building this dream is based on has four floors, including the basement. I must have extended this by several stories, as I lost track of the time that I played on the stairs. Finally, I reach the basement.

      I look around and down the hallway, marvelling over how real all this feels. I feel more awake right now than I usually do while I'm conscious.

      There are railings criss-crossing throughout the basement. I remember the April dreaming task (last chance!). Stand on your head, right? I go to a place where the railings meet at a 90 degree angle. I grip the railings, and pull myself up into a handstand.

      I can feel the burn in my arms. Balancing isn't a problem, but I have to work to support myself in that position. Letting out a huff of exultation, I lower myself gracefully to the ground, grinning all the while.


      Because I can't do this in real life. Yet.

      The advanced task reads "Stand on your head", literally. I concentrate on the shadows cast by the light source behind me, put my fingers over my temples and under my jaw, and gently pull away from me and downward.

      From a first person POV, I'm watching the shadows intently, seeing the shape of my head separated from my body. Suddenly, I'm brought back to the starting position. I concentrate on my reflection in a dusty mirror, and repeat the process, slowly. I see my only my silhouette. I bend my knees and try to place my head on the floor, only to find myself in a sitting position, legs bent outward, stretching toward the floor.


      I'm still in the basement. My mom is folding laundry, and there are piles of clothes all over the place. I see a pink or blue t-shirt, apparently my mom's, that reads "Slytherin Mom". I start telling her about the dream I just had.

      I "wake up" in my room at my parents' house. I write down my dreams for the night. I check my alarm clock, but I'm too tired to do the RC properly. I'm annoyed by my mom, because she keeps popping into the room while I'm trying to sleep.

      shift

      I'm chatting with some people in an imaginary gay bar. A girl tells me I ought to come out more. No pun intended.

      shift

      I'm doing dishes via telekinesis. The mice from Cinderella will be disappointed that they didn't get to help, but they did the dishes in the last dream. Which means they haven't done the dishes in this dream. Which means I'll still have to do the dishes when I wake up.

      I bring garbage out to the dumpster behind the shed. I'm Alice in Wonderland. After falling down the rabbit hole, I meet my character's worst enemy.


      AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

      And then I'm a scary-looking monster horse hissing at the singing monstrosity.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:37 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    22. #47
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #42: Girlfriends, Dead People

      I'm in a familiar place, messing with the controls on a high-tech piece of equipment (possibly the Stargate). My partner is a girl named Susan.

      The building is a small house with fake-wooden paneling on the walls. There's old and worn furniture scattered throughout, mismatched and comfortable. There are a huge number of people in the house, milling about and chatting, but the atmosphere is mournful. Apparently this is a funeral or a wake.

      I'm trailing beside Susan as she moves through the room talking to people. Suddenly, she half collapses, sobbing. I turn to our boss and tell him I'll take her away from the crowd.

      I tell Susan that we're going into the lounge. I support her weight as we walk into the room and I have a strong feeling of familiarity with the location. I help her over to a couch and she lies down. I go over to sit on a recliner.

      When I look up, I see that Susan has come to stand beside my chair. She asks if she can sit with me. I move over, and she sits down with me. I imagine the chair laying back and the footrest coming up. Susan and I lay down together, and I drift off to sleep.


      I wake up, curled on my side in the chair. Susan is gone. I get up and pad through the living room that was full of people last night. I pop into my head into the den, and ask my dad (who's watching TV) where Susan is. He says she's probably sleeping in one of the bedrooms.

      I stare at all of the people in the room, whose faces I can't really see. I notice that some of the people seem to be disembodied heads under various blankets all over the room. I dismiss the phenomenon as being normal for a dream, and go to find Susan.

      Susan is, in fact, sleeping in one of the bedrooms. I close the door quietly, trying not to wake her.


      When I step away from the door, I decide it's time to double-check my suspicions. I do a hand RC for the first time in a dream, staring at my left hand until the fingers move separately from my will and thick red blood begins to foam over the knuckles of my ring and middle fingers.

      I'm somewhat disturbed, but I decide it doesn't really matter. I look at the digital clock on a VCR, which reads 1:45 PM. I decide that the time isn't unreasonable, since it was around 11:00 AM when I last woke up, and I had time to sleep in today.* I will the time on the clock to change, and it flickers. I repeat the hand RC.

      I stretch out a hand in front of me, willing open a portal to a skyscraper. Instead of a portal opening in front of me, the door across the room to my left opens with a bang, letting the bright morning sunlight stream into the room.

      I step out of the house and look around. There are mountains surrounding the town. The mountain I can see between buildings is a sloping, tree covered hill, and I'm happy to be on the mountainous west coast. The buildings are probably a couple centuries old. The church I can see has a spire reaching up toward the blue sky.



      St. Paul's Church, the oldest building in Halifax, NS.

      I repeat the hand RC, hoping to extend the dream. The ring finger on my right hand is missing, but when I look closer, I realize it's still there. The light seems to bend around it so that it's just barely visible, like the non-existent puddles on the highway in the middle of the summer.

      There's nothing resembling a skyscraper nearby, so I throw open a few doors, hoping for a portal to a bigger city. I go through one, into brighter light, but I'm still more or less in the same place.

      I'm just outside of town, looking at a delapitated building. There are no doors that don't have shelving inside, so I focus on the people who are there. Selina, a girl I graduated with, and an old man who looks kinda like one of my art school professors (Mike) are the only characters who don't fade into the background. They're picking things up, working on repairs to the heritage site.



      Mike and Selina greet me, and ask what I'm planning to do. Mike says that if I'm planning to go into the woods, I should avoid making deals with the beings there. They can offer a lot, so it's a hard temptation to resist - the creatures could bring back any of my relatives from the dead.

      I wryly assure him that I've had a similar dream before, where someone warned me not to bring back the original Elaine. By this point, I'm well aware that anyone I try to bring to life will come back wrong.

      Mike is wistful, saying that if they would come back right, all of us would be willing to live without our souls, and to hell with the consequences.

      I remember to do another hand RC, but I'm waking up. Everything fades
      and when I wake up, I already have my eyes open. I do another digital-clock RC, but I'm really awake this time.

      Girlfriends, Dead People. Scare Factor: 2.

      *It was around 12:45 PM when I actually woke up.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:37 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    23. #48
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #43: The Devil You Know


      Ariel, Samael, Rick.

      The group of survivors have made it to an open courtyard surrounded by stainless steel fencing. The entrances are similar to cattle corrals, and apparently zombies aren't smart enough to get in. The horde is separated from us, but a few renegade zombies are still trying to eat us.

      "Oh my god, just shoot them already!" shrieks a girl with dark hair. There are probably half a dozen of us, but only two guns. A shotgun blast goes off, taking out the zombie. The man holding the gun starts reloading. The blonde woman with the other gun lays down cover fire.

      One of our members is somehow a conscious zombie, fighting off other ones and getting bitten in the process. The bites don't bother him much.

      A zombie no one else seems to have noticed is sneaking up on one of the youngest, unarmed, members of our group. I curse, and rush the zombie, blocking the kid from its view. The thing immediately starts in on me, and, stupidly, I let it close enough to get in a bite.

      "Fuck!" I shout, calling the attention of the rest of the survivors. I grab the zombie's head and twist the neck, severing the spinal column. The zombie drops limply to the ground.

      I put a hand to the side of my neck, wincing when it comes away sticky with blood. I can already feel the wound starting to close. I look up, noticing that the man with the gun is eying me speculatively, his shotgun fully loaded and pointing straight at my head.

      "Rick," I say, warning in my voice. "Don't even think -"

      He pulls the trigger. My head explodes in a spectacular fountain of red chunks.

      I come to some time later. I sit up in the grassy field, and I'm covered in my own blood. I purge the various fluids and chunks of brain matter with a thought, and stand up, cursing Rick's entire family tree as I do.

      Already, there are more zombies shuffling toward me.

      They scurry away when I send a telepathic, high pitched whine toward them, scrambling what's left of their brains and causing blood to pour from their ears. The closest zombies collapse immediately, the rest stay away.

      I head toward the stone building. A school, before the apocalypse hit, and by coincidence, the perfect place for a bunch of insects to make their last stand.

      ---

      The blonde woman is on edge the moment she sees me. "You're dead." she accuses, bringing her own shotgun up to fire. "Sam, I'm sorry, but -"

      "You know, Ariel." I say, casually swatting the gun away, "That didn't work last time."

      Ariel lowers the weapon when she hears my voice. "How the hell?"

      "None of your goddamn business." I say brightly. "Now, where are the others?"

      She's suspicious. "You know Rick meant well, right?"

      "By shooting me in the head. I know. And I considered slaughtering every one of you without mercy," I say, willfully ignoring Ariel's horrified expression, "But the world would be so boring without any humans to torment."

      Ariel makes a choked sound.

      "So let's call an end to your little scouting mission," I say, starting down the concrete tunnel, "And go find the others."

      If I can't kill them all, I can at least look forward to the expression on Rick's face.

      The Devil You Know. Scare Factor: 2.

      ETA: It was just like this, actually.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:37 AM. Reason: added a drawing

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    24. #49
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #44: I Am Legend

      Summary: My family stops for a midnight hike in a horror movie. I'm horribly outnumbered in a fight. In an alternate universe, my brother is captured by vampires and my mom has superpowers.

      We're driving down the highway in a tan-coloured Oldsmobile. The driver seems to think the speed limit is optional, which really wouldn't bother me, only he doesn't actually have his license yet. Also, he doesn't seem to be in control of the vehicle, if the wildly oscillating steering wheel is anything to go by.

      "Whoa! Whoa!" I shout from the backseat. "Oncoming train, ONCOMING TRAIN!"

      "Ben, stop," says my mom from the passenger seat.

      Ben reluctantly brings the car to a stop before we get to the train tracks. I breathe out a sigh of relief and glare at my brother.

      "You know," says the fifteen-year-old comfortably, "Sam could totally supervise my driving -"

      "NO!" My mom and I say simultaneously.

      Ben slouches in his seat and gets the car moving again, now that the train's past. The car gradually speeds up, and he throws my mom a look that reads See? I can totally drive without giving Sam a heart attack.

      A copse of trees blocks the road a little bit farther along. It's night. We need to hike through the trees in order to get to the road on the other side.

      We're not a few steps in before I can feel a tingling feeling up my spine. I sense a malicious intent, which lingers, as if the blood that's been spilled here has never properly washed away.

      "We should hurry," I say quietly. "This isn't a good place." I should know, this is my dream after all. Vaguely, I wonder if this is going to turn into a nightmare. If it is, am I sensing evil, or creating it?

      There are men sleeping, haphazardly strewn over the grass-covered ground in various garishly coloured sleeping bags. I hurry Mom and Ben along, out of the campsite through a path in the bushes. I know it the moment the men wake up.

      "Go! Go! I'll meet you at the car!" I shout at my family. Somewhere between eight and a dozen men come rushing onto the path, heedless of my attempts to block them. I can't move, I can't shout, I'm completely helpless -

      "KIYA!" I lace a high-pitched shout with all of my fear and anger, forcing the men's attention onto me. I move out into the middle of the clearing, still pulling their attention, focusing on the present rather than the danger that faces the others. I need to be able to move.

      "KIYA!" I shout in challenge, feeling ridiculous, catching a third-person view of myself as Eliza Dushku.


      A man runs at me, using his momentum - and considerable bulk - to ready a skull-crushing punch. I sidestep. He misses. I use his momentum against him, throwing him out of the way.

      It's on.

      Another man rushes me. I catch him by the arm, twist, breaking it. I throw him over my shoulder and he crashes to the ground, where I aim a kick at his neck, killing him instantly.

      Two come at me. I send one stumbling with a kick to the solar-plexus. He trips over the corpse and I disable the other one with a ridge-hand strike to the throat, crushing the windpipe. He collapses to the ground, gasping for air, and I'm already rushing a stunned thug, sweeping his legs out from under him. I pound three high-powered kicks into his left temple before he can blink.

      A thug is picking himself up from beside his friend's corpse, looking enraged. I'm behind another one, hand across jaw, and I pull, breaking his neck. I don't see Trippy until he has a hand around my throat, lifting me until my toes barely brush over the ground. I twist, tearing - tiger claw - rigid fingers across his face, ripping into flesh. His grip slackens and I turn around to meet another attack, evading arms and deftly clawing an eye out of its socket. He's out of the fight.

      One of the smarter ones is readying an incantation - I'm in front of him. I grab, twist, tear his arm off, leave him to bleed out.

      Another. I aim a kick for his groin, surprised when I hit the inner thigh. Hard. Time slows for the others, and I admonish myself for losing focus. Concentrate on the dream. I pull my leg in, I lash out with a side-kick to the groin. He's down. I smash his head in.

      I hear a dark chuckle from across the clearing. Trippy is struggling to his feet, one hand pressed against his bleeding face. He laughs. I want to know what's so funny.

      "You think we're monsters." He laughs again, eyes closed for a moment.

      He's down before he knew what hit him. I kick him repeatedly, into the gut, into the side of his head, until he's nothing but a mangled corpse leering at me with a dead grin.

      I put down the others with brutal efficiency.

      I meet Ben and Mom at the car, which happens to be a Chevy Impala. Not meeting their eyes, I mention that we're going to have to wipe down the car, inside and outside. Apparently it was used to run over people while I wasn't looking. I'll have to dispose of these clothes, too. They're black, so I can't see the blood-spatter, but I just murdered a bunch of unarmed humanoids, and there was blood spraying everywhere, so -

      "I'll clean the car," says my brother.

      I take a deep breath. "Yeah. We should go."

      ---

      Some time later, I meet up with an alternate version of my mom, driving the Oldsmobile. We talk about the forest/campground, but she isn't entirely sure what I'm talking about. In her world, we kept driving right past the damned place.

      I get to thinking about alternate endings...

      ---

      They have Ben. My mom has disappeared, but they have Ben and he's a prisoner of these things and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

      There's a young boy, maybe ten, being carried from some kind of ceremony, half naked. I have a bad feeling about this.

      I take a breath, calm my mind. I can stay out of sight for now, wait for an opportunity to rescue him. I'm practically incorporeal right now; it's not like I could do much anyway. Although, I think, as I watch them drag my struggling brother out of sight, waiting could be easier said than done.

      ---

      Colourful round wooden tables are interspersed throughout the clearing. I couldn't see the place before I followed Ben in. My brother is sitting at one of the tables, eating the same grilled cheese sandwiches as all the other humans. On his left is the vampire he's been bound to, and on his right, a human slave, eying the former nervously.

      I get a bit of insight from the slave, who, apparently, was a member of the local Resistance before he was captured. He still hasn't quite lost the suicidal tendencies.

      "You realize," he says to Ben, keeping his voice low so the vampire won't notice, "That these things are just using you, right? We need to fight them."

      Ben snorts. "You're just saying that because they're planning to eat you."

      Apparently they keep humans as cattle. Charming.

      Also, Ben's been brainwashed. This could be a problem.

      ---

      I'm watching the loading area, a gravel parking lot leading into the back doors of the complex. An Oldsmobile drives in. I move closer.

      A group of three or four slaves is conversing with the driver. One of them was talking to Ben earlier. Kel, I think his name was. I recognize the leader of the group: Damon. Fanatic.

      "What do you want with the Aur'i, Reader?" Damon asks, as my mom steps out of the car.

      "Your masters have taken one of our own." Mom tells them coldly. "We want him back."

      Fuck me. Readers' powers are the opposite of my own, divine while mine are hell-powered, and they're positively toxic to the Aur'i (vampires). They're more of an allergy, for me.

      "The boy, yes?" says Damon, "What of the girl?"

      Ah, the Dushku persona.

      "Not one of ours," Mom says, "She didn't violate the Accords by attacking you."

      "A pity," says Damon. "I'll pass along your message to our Masters. You may leave now."

      Ignoring the slight, Mom tips her head and goes back to the car.

      Damn it. I've got to get her a message before she leaves. I take off along the side of the complex.

      ---

      "Sokka Katara Sam!" Ben gasps, clutching his head. I hear him, glad that he's finally broken through the mind control.

      Lay low.


      ---

      I break out into a full-on sprint, moving as quickly as I can around the back corner of the loading bay. When I stop, I hardly even notice that I'm not out of breath. I wave my arms at my mom, staying carefully out of the slaves' sight.

      I gesture towards some scaffolding near my hiding spot, which should be hidden from any observers. My mom exits the car and heads toward the spot I indicated, and I slink along more carefully, hidden by the various construction materials along the way.

      "You had to choose this spot?" asks my mom, visibly shivering.

      I'm surprised, but I look more closely at the wall. There's warding magic emanating from it.

      I smile sheepishly. "I can't feel it like you do." I tell her, "My power meshes with the place."

      "We'll talk about it later." She pulls an iron chain out and throws one end to me.

      I catch it. It feels like ice-water is crawling over my skin.

      Covered by the protection of the chain, I explain the situation, highlighting the layout of the compound and detailing Ben's chain to the Aur'i. I'm so caught up in the story that I don't notice the patrolling slaves have noticed us. Noticed the chain, rather, since we're invisible.

      "That is a forbidden magic here," says Damon, indicating the iron chain.

      "Is it?" I ask, adopting a really bad light Jamaican accent. "It is looped through this equipment like a spider's web."

      "The reader," hisses Damon.

      "You're Nomad?" asks Kel, indicating a nationality.

      I glance back at Mom, but she's disappeared along with the car. Good.

      I have an image of dark skin and bright colours. I take the appearance of the girl in my mind's eye and let the chain fall from my hand.

      I can work with this.

      I Am Legend. Scare Factor: 5.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:37 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

    25. #50
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      Things to Run Away From Really Fast #45: Silence in the Library

      The dream takes place several years (decades?) into the future.

      The Library is falling apart in the absence of a Librarian. The Library itself is a vast compendium of past knowledge, mostly accessible through computers. It's a surprisingly busy place, in this future, filled up with mostly young people, but it's dying.

      I already know how this is going to end. I slam open the door of my house (the library is inside) and walk out. It's a well lit night, and snow is falling lightly from the sky.

      "OKAY!" I shout at the sky, "I'll be your fucking Librarian!" I pause at the flicker of a curtain across the street. Most people would think I'm yelling at God or something, but I'm actually communicating with a highly advanced intelligence that has full control over... never mind.

      A question forms somewhere in my mind, asking what it would be like to stay in this one place for years, contrary to everything that I am (a traveller). Stubbornly, I continue to assert that I'll do the damn job if I have to - time is fluid in this place, anyway.

      I don't receive an answer.

      ---

      I'm in a location I dreamed about last spring. It's almost identical. The local aquatic centre is fused with a rock climbing gym, which we don't have here in Quickton.

      In the dream, I'm wondering why I thought we don't have any rock climbing here, since we so obviously do (we don't).


      Map


      Colour of the walls

      Silence in the Library. Scare Factor: 2.

      I'm trying for a shared dream with Walms via the Deep Dreaming forum. We'll see if I can manage a lucid in the next few days.
      Last edited by Samael; 05-22-2010 at 05:38 AM.

      I pick up a half-eaten copy of a book by Neil Gaiman, and decide this is all his fault.

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