NoxNoctis
The Urban Lenny

I was reading National Geographic in my room when I looked out the window and saw the house was now in some sort of city square full of people like some media event was going on. I was reading an article on the people of the Kalahari. Then I remembered I was the agent for a woman with some sort of magic cow, only it never did anything. My job was to defend her against claims that she was actually just a woman who led a cow around. The crowds were demanding she demonstrate her powers along with some other major media event. It was a concert for a Russian pop band.

Three sleazy businessman types were trying to force the cow woman into some promotional deal. I went to negotiate with them but instead used a bolt gun to punch a hole in the head of one, shot the second one with it as he tried to flee then tripped the last one, pinned him down with my foot and blew his brains out. The cow woman went out to scold me about killing people for slights. I was unfazed by these claims and decided to kill the event organizer for inciting violence. Then I woke up.

I was an agent during some world war, either 1 or 2. I was part of a special operations team involved in alchemical experiments. The others members including an old senile man who could hardly walk, what appeared to be Colonel Kurtz, someone who looked like Frank Booth and two soldiers who only spoke to each other. We were involved in a project to raise the dead and it wasn’t going well. I was brooding in the sitting room when the old man came in and gave me bad news. I sent him away but since he moved very slowly, the Frank Booth guy shown up and started hyperactively insulting the old guy and generally being annoying. I hurled a book of poetry at him and he left.

Then some soldiers brought in a dead comrade from the battlefield and put him in an upstairs bedroom. I was not happy about it and spent several days thinking over the correct course of action. Somehow I went upstairs and found the dead guy was actually alive but couldn’t move his legs. An alchemical experiment had brought him back to life. He was crawling down the half-landing while the two soldiers who wouldn’t speak to anyone but each other put hairspray in their hair. I went downstairs again, drank a bucket of water and poured the rest on my head then went to fix an old fashioned car.

I did watch Inglourious Basterds and Apocalypse Now recently.

I was working in some sort of castle that was part of many castles spaced out evenly in some grim planet that was usually raining. It was mentioned to be named Hykoon. My job was to carry the garbage down a long hallway from the main courtyard to the bins outside. Another guy who worked with me delivered meals to the owner of the castle. There was a main courtyard of cobblestone and four unlit towers with staircases. The other guy went up these staircases but wouldn’t say what was up top. Lobster-like aliens ran the place, including one who was a sort of leader.

I eventually snuck up the stairs at night and spotted a meeting between two of the aliens, one of them stabbed the other, fled into the forest that was outside and was gunned down by security turrets. Then I woke up. The last part seemed almost like a video game.

What I read before going to sleep was Gormenghast. I tried to WILD but fell asleep too quickly. This dream was sort of rambling and disjointed scenery, but pretty damn vivid.

I was in some sort of medieval world, like Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings. It was at night in some village square. The ground was made of small dark stone bricks, there was a town hall to one side, a well on another, a temple on another and a hill on the final one. The other side of the hill was on the edge of a massive cliff face looking down into a large forest which it was day in somehow. There was a second well on the hill but this one was square. A wizard was arguing with a knight. The knight was tall, wearing scale mail armour and somewhat ugly. The wizard was not ugly, short and dressed in black and purple glittering robes. Their argument got worse and the wizard shot lightning at the knight, who managed to resist. He said something which got the wizard really angry, causing him to intensify the lightning and send the knight over the cliff.

Then I was in a house of sorts with a group of people, some of them knights but others dressed like normal people. One of them requested a straw for their drink. I went upstairs to borrow a straw from a woman who was up a ladder propped up against a bookcase by the half landing of a staircase. She was either painting or dusting. The problem was: the straw was frozen stiff from the ice in the glass and wouldn’t take in liquid. I had to thaw it out somehow and bring it down.

Another change of scenes and I was in a car with the woman, the person asking for more ice, two knights and a man. I told the woman and the knights that the wizard killed the knight on the cliff. Suddenly the wizard popped up out of nowhere and began complaining that I told people. Then I said to him that he couldn’t just go around baking Aennys’ knights. Then I realised Aennys was a Targaryen king, like the Mad King from a Song of Ice and Fire but he lived in Castle Gormenghast. I said you can’t go around confusing your genres like that then I woke up from the realisation that a Targaryen living in Gormenghast made no sense.

Before I went to sleep, I read Orcs and wrote some stuff down in my notebook for a map of mine. The last thing I had was a cup of tea and a mint biscuit. I tried to WILD but fell asleep too fast.

In some sort of clothes designer’s studio with some well dressed staff, I and another guy are challenged to a drinking contest of sorts. They fill three shot glasses with a liquid that looks like scotch and gave one to me, one to the other guy and one to a model with very frizzy hair. The aim is to drink it and last the longest without panicking for some reason. I outlast the model and my “friend”, the latter diving out a window while the former runs out the door.

My memory is fuzzy at this point but somehow I end up clinging to my friend who is hanging outside the windows, climbing them. We pass a clown on the phone who has taken a shower but kept the makeup on, two mafia guys arguing and finally a woman that pushes us off the wall.

We’re back in the studio when someone mentions that there’s a trip to Zombie Island coming up. Some fat guy with glasses offers a thousand pounds to come, I can only offer five hundred. So I go to speak with the guy organizing it in a crowded street. The fat guy comes too. The organizer is very tall and seems to be a floating large suit in a crowded street of businessmen, none of whom find this unusual. He reminds me of the Slenderman. I look at his reflection then look back and he is there. Shorter now, his overall appearance seems to be a cross between Montgomery Flange from the Mighty Boosh and some English aristocrat. He says Zombie Island is leaving via steamship.

Back at the studio again, before the trip to Zombie Island, I am turning green in the mirror and apply makeup so I don’t look like a zombie. However, I get into an argument with a makeup artist and turn myself blue but decide to leave anyway.

I woke up after this, too early, and decided to try MILDing. It might have been a false awakening. Either way, MILD didn’t take.