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    About RebarGold

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    Date of Birth
    October 29
    About RebarGold
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    I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. - Edgar Allen Poe
    Earth? Maybe? I haven't checked recently.
    Reading, writing, music, drawing...The general pursuits to sate the imagination and curiosity.
    I have one? Woaaaaaaah, man.
    How you found us:
    Looking up lucid dreaming.


    It's noon-thirty! People are trying to LUCID DREAM HERE!
    Mein Gott!


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    02-01-2014 04:10 AM
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    04-11-2014 12:09 PM
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    Dry-Dock Bullets

    by RebarGold on 02-07-2014 at 09:06 AM
    Dry-Dock Bullets

    The entire world around me is dank and misty. The houses are gloomy and reek of mildew with vibrant green vines trailing up and down the walls. I can see moss growing in brick molding cracks from the giant U-shaped roadway I'm standing in.
    I'm, oddly enough, wearing a vibrant blue T-shirt like an Under-Armour and coal black sweatpants tied up around my knees that I was certain hid actual coal smudges. My feet were bare and I had a weird metal wristband with runes etched on my right arm. The mark on my left hand is still present again.
    The road branches off in two ways, one leading to dry docks and the other passing by a small house that is slightly less dilapidated than the rest, with a painted sign creaking in the wind. It's one of the few houses with lights pouring out of the windows.
    A young boy, probably about ten, walked out of an alleyway in the dry dock direction and walked towards me with that cheeky grin little kids have. You know that grin, right? He's dressed conservatively, with his sweatpants rolled down and a longer, thick dark shirt on. Grime coats his cheeks and a little hat is crooked on his tangle hair.
    "The next ship came in. Figured your name was on it." He's got a definite English accent and he doesn't wait for my reply. I'm just left to wave a thank you as he walks down the other road and I'm taking a long stride to the docks. I don't run. You don't want to run in this place.
    The sand is a more fiery red than the calm beige we're used to. It looks as if the entire beach is a raging fire, glinting in the sunset against a very pale grey-blue ocean. The docks are huge, branching off in forty paths after making it to the even level. A woman curled up in a chair with the heaviest cloak I've seen points me in the right-most direction towards a giant Galleon. A part of me thought this was suitable. The boards creaked under my weight, and I had to drag out a second board to board (I'm just trying to say board a lot here. So I don't get board. Get it?) the ship made out of boards. A little trap-door leads down to the hull where most of the cargo is stored, but I don't give it a second look. The grand door to the Captain's Quarters with ivory carefully laid into its carved channels catches my eye instead. I wanted a lockpick, and immediately reached into my pocket to retrieve a knife, several needles and other weird metallic instruments. I'm not quite sure how I held the knife and everything else in my left hand, but I did, and after a minute of fiddling, the door swung open.
    A small chest sat in the middle of a table. Papers and overturned chairs littered the room, but I paid it no attention and applied my picks to the chest. It opened far easier. Long, turquoise stems stood stacks tall, bulging suspiciously. My picks fell back into my pocket as I slit the first plant open and a large, heavy bullet dropped into my hand. It reminded me of a shotgun shell, save it was a steel-brass mix that was obviously only one bullet. There were hundreds of these stems, but I only took as many as fit into my hand before I left in somewhat of a hurry back down the streets.
    I was slipping into the almost cozy house down the second road as the young boy was slipping out. He gave me a tilt of his hat and was gone into the darkness of the night. Inside was far cozier than outside. Two counters stood on either side as you walked in, forming a hall-way that led to little wooden tables for four. An elderly lady and one in her teen years stood opposing each other, cleaning bottles and wiping the table as the elderly lady's counterpart dusted down the furniture. The torches made it more comfortable than a small, barren inn may have otherwise seemed, at least. I grabbed a small bag of my things near the entry-way and slung the satchel over my shoulders. They all gave me a short note of recognition before returning to their work, each too preoccupied with their work for talking to a leaving person.
    The house just across the street had strong vines, and I found myself reverse rappelling up the side of it until I firmly on cracking shale. I could run across the roofs, having nothing to worry about at this height, and did so freely, jumping over tiny alleyways and climbing up and down houses. A small, cloth rope spiraled down from the tallest building into a tiny niche on a beachcliff. The houses cut off the other pathways, and the ocean crashed far below. The only way there was the rope I left.
    I was like a monkey. A really awesome monkey. I just slid down the rope and threw my bag to the side to enjoy the view. It was pretty, even thought it was a subconscious thought. My hands found their restless way into my bag to pull out a letter that was quite clear and is quite clear in my memory, though I won't type it up. Let's just say, even my dream hurt.
    And then I woke up!

    Za creepiest creep assassins ever!

    by RebarGold on 02-06-2014 at 08:44 PM
    So I'm standing outside this really official-like building and there's this tall dude beside me with a giant black cloak and mask on...Yeah, you can't any more obvious than that, but lucky for us, other people were equally dressed up. Everyone was in this huge line entering the building and a young "lady" stood about three people down from us. I peeked over my shoulder to look at her, and she waved her fan at me. Because....I'm awesome like that.
    I had a weird leather vesty thing on with the old-fashion white cotton tunic and dark cotton pants...But where other people were wearing fancy shoes with dangles and stuffz I was wearing boots like the dude beside me. I don't know enough about Victorian-Medieval age fashion to describe this properly!
    So the line is shifting forward slowly and by the time we get to the entrance way to this gigantic wooden building this old dude with feathery wisps on his heads looks at us strangely. The obviousassassindudeissooooooobvious reaches over me to give him a slip of paper and we walk in while he's reading it.
    Glass covers exhibits of weird glowing things and we move to the center of the room in the middle of the bustling crowd. People just walk around us, too busy with their own business to worry about us and the lady from the line walks by and shoves something into Mr. Black Coat's hands. He twists it over in his gloved hand and looks at me with a grin on his face I can't quite see. Small bursts of flame erupt from the tiny rock and we're both elbowing our ways to the other side of the room in the next breath. The lady is directly across from us, nearest the doorway. She waved her fan again.
    The guy taps my shoulder and I know what he means without his asking. Generally, when I dream, I get this weird mark on left hand. The mark started stretching and ran up my arms, presumably my back and onto my right arm. I snapped my fingers and all the light provided by the fire and torches suddenly muted and died, but that's not even the coolest part. I had this weird sensation like a cool breeze on the parts of the skin that was marked and a weird electrical surge that didn't hurt. The mark didn't really glow when I did anything, but it got this weird silverish look to it.
    People turned in circles, confused as the only light came from tiny little figures in the cases. The lady showed up in front of us again and Metal-Mask(that's his permanent name. I like this one the most.) disappeared in the crowd with her. Finding a gap in my dream to do something interesting, I tip-toed over to the figures that people were completely ignoring in the chaos. They were all different, but similar to the last. Weird lines in 3D glowed random colors and spun at varying speeds. So I did what everyone would do: I reached for one through the glass as the mark stretched itself up my arm as I reached out, the glass amplifying the silvery look to it. My hands found a little faint red mess of sharp points spinning rapidly first and I pulled it out of the glass with me. It began to lose its definition and seep into my skin as I closed my hands in reaction to the weird numbing feeling. The figure crushed into my skin and disappeared with a weird tingle.
    I felt another tap on my shoulder and Metal-Mask dragged the back of my collar a few feet away from the container before I caught up with his blistering speed. A shadow was lying limp on his shoulder as the lady kept a few paces behind us, smiling and catching the eye of anyone around. The line had dispersed by the time we were outside and a dimly lit river stood against the darkness of the night. We moved a bit quicker in the clear outdoors and we sliding down a bank to a small boat before any of the other patrons had found their way outside.
    The lady was running towards us, having disposed of the dress, fan and any other fascinatingly dull baubles. She jumped into the boat and Metal-Mask pushed off, everyone exchanging a slight smirk as the body in the boat gave a neurotic shudder.
    A slight roar erupted in the background and a yellow fire burst out of the first window, eating wooden planks by the second. I didn't seem too bothered by it, though. They probably deserved it, but I wondered if the other glowy-happy things survived.

    There's three other parts to this dream, but I am WAAAY too lazy to type it all up.

    Updated 02-06-2014 at 10:36 PM by RebarGold


    Nine Dream Fragments

    by RebarGold on 12-12-2013 at 04:06 PM
    I didn't try to consciously lucid dream, but I guess my DILD's had a different plan.


    My face was cold, and then the rest of me started freezing. I just sorta looked around for a minute before realizing there was only one thing standing in the dank, stone room. A tall mirror stood in the middle with inscriptions on the top gild of the mirror. All you Potter-heads know EXACTLY what I'm talking about by now(Erised). I was haaaapppeh. This was a good dream line and I knew I was sick so should probably stop dreaming, but I ran up to it anyhow. The entire mirror was covered in thick, black dust. That's fine, I'll just wipe it off, right? Wrong. I stood there for a couple dream minutes, polishing it with my sleeve, but it didn't do jack. For a moment, I almost got mad, but it took a while before I realized it didn't really bother me.
    My dream looses focus and I wake up. I blame cold medicine.


    I'm freezing on a rock's ledge far above the ground. My dream created bitter cold wind biting into my skin, but I think I should just sleep with more blankets at this point. Anyhow, I'm closer to the base of the mountain, thankfully, but there's this dude at the very edge of the ledge. At this point, I'm kinda curious who he is, kinda curious how long it'll take for the cold wind to become warm, but I know exactly who he is when he turns around. There's a long scar down his left eye and cheek over what I said would be fine features. His hair's dark and his eyes are silver, but he still has the mouthful of canine teeth that I created. He's one of the characters from my stories.
    Dream ends. I just go immediately back to sleep which may have caused the DEILD dream next.


    My dream plopped me squarely (rectangely? I mean, the Hallway's not a square.) in the Hallway. I immediately swaggered over to the first door and opened it without really caring. Two small candles resting on great metal bars stood before a giant tapestry that I fuzzily remember dragons and fire being embroidered on with incredible number.
    I just stood there for a moment, watching everything. Chills started to work their way up my spine and I suddenly got this sense of foreboding and anxiety that knocked me on my dream ass. Just as I was about to shut the door (Common sense! Yay!) I noticed there was book sitting on the ground between the medieval lamps. As I started to move closer to the book my dream faded off.
    Such good timing. I don't remember waking up, I just sort of floated into the next dream, I think.


    I'm standing in a giant tower. The sky's a raging black and the ground is rougher than obsidian. Even the cool grey stone bricks of the tower are dark in the lighting, and the sounds of war ring out below me. A huge army is amassing at the base of the tower, stretching out over miles. They certainly look, let alone sound, intimidating, but I wasn't even close to being scared. That's when I realized they were MY ARMY! I started my little victory dance: The electric slide coupled with the Thriller in an amazing moonwalk montage that features the Worm and some very awkward break-dancing, but then my dream faded as I woke up coughing my lungs up.


    Musical instruments line the walls of a small room with no doors. No doors is never a good sign. I was still grooving with it, though. A clock was mounted over the only clear area in the entire area, but I didn't take much notice of it. The hands were pointed at 0...Couldn't be a very effective clock. A sound erupted from a cello at the other side of the room. If you didn't know, cellos tend to sound VERY NICE. This one resembled a person ripping a poor wittle squirrel's teeth out more than a musical. The other instruments began to join in: Ukuleles, pianos, guitars, flutes, trumpets, tubas, violins, drums, triangles, clarinets and far too many more made a horrible ratcheting sound in their complete discordance.
    I really didn't like that clock. The hands began to move as the sound rose in intensity, and between my shoving fingers in my ears, I reached up for it. It took a minute for me to grab it, even though I didn't grow, and I smashed it against the ground. The sound faded until a piano was left playing Hallelujah in Jeff Buckley's fashion.
    Dream faded.


    I'm sitting at a desk. There's no walls and no floor. I'm just there with my chair at an empty desk. Simultaneously, a sign and single white pen appears on the desk.
    "Write "dead" on your desk."
    My first reaction is like: What could it hurt?
    My second reaction is: No. For those who don't know, white is considered all the colors of, at least, our visible spectrum. Equipped with this dream knowledge, I slipped off my chair, and started to draw the grooves in a wood floor. I gently blew on the white lines I drew into the black, and a three dimensional groove appeared in dark wood. The sign yelled at me. "Deviant. Write "dead" on your desk."
    I didn't really care, to be honest. This was too awesome. I kept drawing the one plank until I came to spot where I thought a wall might look nice and just drew straight up into nothing. A dry-wall appeared as I breathed on it again, and I quickly formed a pale blue plaster with dark bronze patterns at the edges.
    The sign yelled again. "Deviant. Write "dead" on your desk. Complete your reconstruction."
    I didn't stop. I'm a bad deviant. After a while, I finished the outline of a small room. The sign kept yelling at me, repeating the last line over and over again. Out of pure instinct, I drew a small window across the room and filled it in with my white. Another person on the other side blew on it, and light flooded in from outside. The sign yelled again, as the light hit it and the desk before fading completely away.
    I liked that dream. I really did. And then I woke up and wished I had a white pen to draw my cold away.


    Two swords rang out against each other, clashing in darkness. A figure of a person I knew and definitively hated swung his sword again, to my parry. I'm sure my blow-by-blow report of an evenly-matched fight would bore you, so I'll skip that and get to the point: We were evenly matched just as we always would be.
    Dream faded into Nueve.


    While the other dreams had been longer in nature, this was short and sweet.
    A lady treading on nothing in a white sky that glittered silver and sparkled without light stood before me. She was elegant and strong, beautiful without anything one might consider beautiful.
    "You are brave. Stay with your bravery until the end."
    I wanted to ask her a question, and I felt it rising in my throat as I woke up in a cold sweat.
    lucid , memorable , dream fragment

    Six dreams

    by RebarGold on 12-11-2013 at 10:48 PM
    I kept waking up due to pain in my throat, so I ended up with six dream fragments. These are my dreams in chronological order.


    A friend I know in real life is walking beside me in the autumn woods just behind her house. She looks a bit strange to me, inflated like a balloon and stretched around the eyes, but I don't pay much attention to it. The path we're walking is clear through the brush and a light dusting of snow hides under thick branches. I already know where we're going: A large circular camp with an odd hide tent and fire-pit that has died in the cold gusts.
    We both have guns slung over our shoulders (a Ruger M77 for me and a Ross rifle for her if anyone's interested) and mine was cooler! By the time we reach the encampment she silently moves behind the tent. I thought that was kind of odd, but whatever. It's a dream, weird shit happens. Seconds later, I hear a shoot ring out, and a bullet whips by my face. I got to seeeee the bullet. My dreams are the best bros ever.
    Because I'm awesome in both my real hunting and dream hunting, apparently, I swing the rifle off my shoulder in a fluid move and engage the bullet. It only takes a moment for me to aim from twenty yards and pull the trigger.
    Dream ends. Saltwater is gurgled and Benadryl is taken in copious amounts.

    Slightly graphic

    I'm sitting in someone's living room with a government-style dossier in my lap. Paper targets litter the floor and the bulls-eyes are ripped apart by large-caliber bullets. The dull sofa I'm chilling like a baws on is torn and stained in more place than the dreaming human mind can count.
    So, I open the flimsy paper book and a severed human head greets me. His skull is ripped open in five spots that look to be about .22-size organized in a triangular shape but it looks to have been bleached under water. A vague sense of familiarity encases the picture when I realize I passed the guy on the street last week.
    This carries on with multiple people I can barely consider acquaintances: A late cashier I saw being yelled at by their boss, an elderly lady I helped walk across the street and another foolish skateboarder who fell trying to jump eight steps. Each had nearly identical wounds to the first but the last picture has thin blunt force trauma instead of entry wounds. Guess which one.
    Dreams ends. I wake up coughing slightly.


    I'm in a gigantic skate park in the middle of the night. I'm not on a skateboard: I'm on a hoverboard. With a laser gun. Not a ton to this dream: I just hovered(?) around shooting other people on their boards between my sweet moves. Nobody else was recognizable due to a paintball-esque suit, but I didn't the feeling that I knew them. You know how your dream tells you stuff like this. But, when someone got shot and fell off their board, they disintegrated on the floor in pixel-like dust.
    I didn't win, but I didn't lose either by the time the dream ended.


    So I was a swan. A black swan, precisely. I'm not really sure why, but when I tried to move my arms they were big black wings. "Oh, I'm a black swan!" Not gonna argue with my mind there. I flippered, floppered, swan-walked around a little on a strange little hill before I decided to go flying.
    It was pretty awesome. One of the better dream flights I've had, because I felt the need to actually FLAP and all. But I knew what would make it cooler: Mid-air fights. Another swan, maybe. I just let my mind process it. Before I had time to really react, three Arado Ar 76 (German jet fighters) pull out of the clouds.
    Aaaand, I spit fireballs at them, from my awesome black beak. Rolling, diving, twisting and turning around the pit-patters of machine gun fire and then fireworks as I ignited their engines. Every time I put a plane down another one came out of the clouds until the sun set.
    Dream ends. More saltwater gurgling.


    This one was pretty awesome. When I used to LD a LOT, I created this thing called the Hallway. I used the Hallway as a cool way to access dreams I could remember or plot-lines that my subconscious would be cool. Basically, my mind's eye thinks it's this insanely tall, narrow corridor that stretches out longer than I can see, with monotone brown doors on both sides. Each door has plaque on it where I can "write" whichever dream or things I want in my dream.
    I got to revisit the Hallway again, and I picked a dream that looked exactly like the Hallway, because I figured that'd be awesome dream-ception. When I stepped into the new hallway, however, there was only one door. And a centaur behind me. Just as I was stepping through the next door after dodging a charging centaur, the dream ended.
    I had to get up and do some crap, but I just passed out on my bed later.

    Non-lucid dream:

    I was playing a violin. I have no clue how to play violin, but it sounded quite nice. As I played the violin, however, surges of strange colors would flood my vision and twist the environment like I was stuck in a kaleidoscopic tube. There's not much I can say other than each note turned into a specific color or in a predictable way. Associating sound with visual context would be a cool way to learn music in real life, though.

    The Bronzy-Gold Blue Train and The Hunting Dogs

    by RebarGold on 12-10-2013 at 04:12 PM
    The Bronzy-Gold Blue Train

    So, immediately into the dream I become conscious. I'm standing in this weird as Hell late 1800's train that's swaying back and forth with this lady in front of me. If that's not weird enough, I realize she's made out of hues of bronze, gold and royal blue: Not unnatural in the form of robot-like, just strangely painted like the rest of bronzy-gold blue train. She has this matter-of-fact look to her and says "Boner's axe rock." before sitting down beside what my brain automatically recognizes as her pure bronze husband in a gold top-hat. Kinda creepy, as they're the only people on the train besides me.
    But, this made perfect sense to me! It meant: "Keep walking."
    I'm shifting my way down the train, securing my balance on the gold-blue booths that line the train sides and I cross over to the next car. At first everything looks pretty normal in the new section, but as I start crossing to the next section, things start floating. The booths rip from the floorboards without any struggle and float at about mid-level. I was chill, though, and just kept walking through without really paying any attention to it, but as I reach the end and put my hand on door handle, they all rise up higher and start vibrating violently. So I opened the door, and they just dropped to the floor like they died. Mmm, pretty lame.
    This car was pretty cool. Blue plants that were closest in resemblance to thick vines grew from the walls and floors under the booth to form "people" without faces and made entirely of vines wrapping together. They stood just beside the booth and moved with a really weird cracking and stretching sound as they reached out to touch me as I passed. Almost mid-way through, one grabbed me and I could feel just how cold those vines were. The dude really needed mittens or something. I just sorta looked at his face-less face and he let go. None of the other plant people tried to touch me and I got on the next car without issue.
    So, the last car was colored like you would expect: Dull tones of reality with soft red vinyl seats. Nobody was in the booths, but brown and black luggage filled the racks. A desert landscape passed at blinding speeds outside the faint-blue tinted windows, but I just kept walking onward, wondering what would be in the next car. Now, if you're not familiar with the doors between cars, they tend to have window so you can see if the chain-cross between cars is unstable. However, the window decided to act a mirror, because that's apparently its choice in that universe. The car I had just walked through had lost its normal color scheme for the traditional bronzy-gold blue colors of the dream. Normally, I would have just brushed this off, but behind a person(me? he looked nothing like me, though) this giant silver-man with phosphorescent sickly green eyes stood breathing heavy and staring at me. He looked something Venom from Spiderman. But...More disproportionate in the shoulder and head area. Still with the creepy-ass tongue, though.
    I was kind of freaking out at this point, so I did what any logical person would do: I turned around instead of getting out. I saw the room as the reflection had told me, and the Silver Venom just started running at me like a man-gorilla would. Then the entire scene went blinding white and beige as someone turned on the lights and woke me. God, I hate those people.

    The Hunting Dogs

    I quickly fell asleep after the jerk got his notebook. Who writes at two in the morning when SOMEONE ELSE IS SLEEPING?

    This dream is quite a bit more simplistic in nature. The environment was a frigid winter forest lined with every kind of tree you could think of under a thick blanket of snow. It was afternoon-y for the entire dream or at least the sky was red with orange and pink layers. Soft snow on the ground glittered like rosen crystals and tracks of the most insane creatures twisted around brush and trees.
    And where was I? I was on a giant red wolf decked out in full fur pelts with a bow that was probably twice my size. Two dogs from when I was little were on either side of us: A grey Irish Wolf-hound and a Golden Retriever. There isn't much to explain about the dream, except that I went riding around like a boss, shooting flame-spitting boar the size of trees and yelling at huge condors until they came down to take me into the sky to hunt griffins. A couple seven-legged snakey things came out of the woodworks and we chased those down too. Then there was a Wyvern(spellchecker is 'tupid,) a giant cobra that stripped tree branches as it climbed them and a demon-thingy.

    Wasn't a bad night.

    lucid , memorable