Dream Journal

Westward Bound: Part 2

2012-02-04T16:26:00.001-08:00

"Keep scratching, and I won't stitch you up again if they come loose."
I was bluffing, of course. Not that she'd know. She could stand to see a doc once we reach a town, but for the moment she's conscious, with a hand reaching into her oversized shirt. Her eyes regard me with unveiled suspicion, not that I blame her. Even as I sewed her up, my eyes couldn't help straying from their task somewhat.
Her eyes looked almost orange as they reflected the flames in front of her. The setting sun had given them a honeyed glow, but that was hours ago. As she took her hand out of her shirt, I noticed her tan. And the faint scar along her ring finger. I pulled another piece of dried meat from my pack to chew on, tossing her the rest.
"You need to keep your strength up."
She didn't disagree with me, demonstrating a hearty appetite in spite of our meager provisions. I lay back, tucking my satchel behind my head as a makeshift pillow and lowered my hat over my face.
"Thank you."
The first words she spoke to me since I fell off the train. Not looking up, I gave them a dismissive wave of my hand. It wasn't as though I could have done anything else.

I lifted the brim of my hat a bit higher, glaring at the vehicle as it blared past me. Those motorized buggies irked me more than anything else, and there were a lot of them in the city. Progress, they called it. Yet they seemed to have forgotten their manners along with it.
I nodded to the hotel clerk as I entered, taking the stairs up a few floors. When I turned the key to the room, I found a curious sight behind the door. The dress she wore was a deep blue. A bit worn around the hem, and faded all around. Her hair was pinned up under a matching bonnet, and seeing a strip of flesh from above her high collar of her jacket stirred me more than the glimpse I caught under her shirt those weeks before. Then she turned around, taking her eye away from the spyglass I had set up before I wired her.
"Are you going to change your mind?" I asked her.
She shook her head, and started to push past me. I grasped her arm, more roughly than I intended, but led her back to the window. Outside and across the street was the jailhouse. And through a barred window, hatless and looking a lot cleaner was the leader of that gang on the train. He peered out into the street a moment and went back to pacing in his cell, like a caged animal.
I could feel her tense, and stilled her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. Then I pulled a bundle that was leaning against the wall and drew out the rifle. It was a small caliber, the kind that won't make much noise compared to this bustling town. The sound of the shot would be lost in the city, and I had already set the scope earlier in the day. I told her as much, and laid it onto the bed next to us.
Without another word, I turned and took a few steps towards the door. And waited in the middle of the room. I could see her in a mirror, something she was oblivious to as she lifted the rifle, working the bolt to feed a new round into the chamber. She took her place a few steps back from the window and lifted the weapon, peering through the sight and into the cell across the street.
By the rise and fall of her shoulders, I could see her breath steady and unconsciously matched my own with hers. I stopped breathing when she did. At the first sob, I exhaled and turned around, placing a hand on her shoulder as she lowered the weapon. I took it from her, laying it aside as her hands came up to her face, collecting her tears. Her cry carried with it her frustration, despair, and sorrow. A sound that echoed in my bones, and one I won't soon forget. I gave her my handkerchief, glancing at the scar along her finger as she took it.
"It's enough to see him hang." I told her. I don't know if I believed it myself, but even if she didn't, it's best if it was.
When she pushed past me and ran through the door, I had some trouble deciding wether or not to follow. By the time I made up my mind, the world went white as the sun came in through my window.

Non Sequitur

2011-09-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

"So, I think it would be fun." She told me, tucking an unruly lock behind an ear. Her eyes gazed at me expectantly, and I looked away to the screen in front of her.
"It would be nice to get out and do some hiking," I conceded. "Especially with the ocean right there."
"Great! I'll be right back." she said, sliding down from her seat upon the table. I watched as she slowly made her way to the restroom across the room. The sway of her hips was almost hypnotic, especially with how her dress flared slightly at the bottom. It would have been daringly short if not for the tights she wore underneath, and the black heeled boots she wore just added that much more emphasis to her legs.
A flicker on the screen caught my attention, and her Facebook page popped up on it's own accord. One wall entry caught my notice, though it was dated some months ago. She's single. And apparently, her ex turned out to be gay. She thinks it's because of her, but going by how she looks and her bright personality, I don't see that as even remotely possible.
"She really likes you. I can tell."
He was a gangly looking fellow in cargo shorts and a t-shirt. As he came up to me, he made a gesture towards the restroom and gave me a very earnest look.
"She's been through some rough times, but she's the real thing. She's a good friend too, so don't break her heart. You get me?"
His tone held more concern for her than any threat or warning towards me. Still, I couldn't believe it.
"I know it. But she doesn't feel that way about me. I'm just a friend, nothing more."
"Sure you are. Just take care of her, okay?" And after clapping his hand on my shoulder, he walked off. Just as she had returned.
I must have given her a funny look as she regained her place on the edge of the table, crossing her legs before me.
"What?" She asked. I pulled my eyes away from hers, clicking the map open again on her laptop.
"It's nothing." I replied. Nothing at all.

Westward Bound

2011-06-03T15:33:00.001-07:00

I bit back a cough as the dust caught in my throat. A quick glance around and I spit off to the side. There weren't any ladies present, thankfully, at least until I turned the corner and onto the platform. The assembled travelers were bunched under the awning to take what shade they could find, but the wind still scraped along my face with the heat.
With the sun high overhead, I figured I had time to look around. The station, along with the town, was surrounded by dust and clay, save for the occasional dry patches of grass. While the sun burned down, I felt a throbbing ache along my left arm. I could see the clouds far off on the horizon, dark and menacing, but not quite hiding the plume of steam over the track.
Angling the brim of my hat over my eyes, I felt a hard nub rub against my skull, like a pebble in my hatband. Then the memories started coming back, hazy, fleeting, like a half remembered dream. The flash of fireworks, the glint of a diamond... And a bone handle sticking out of a gunman's chest.
Rubbing my neck revealed that I hadn't come away unscathed. And then things got a little clearer. The reward, splitting the take with the hotel owner, and buying myself a ticket to someplace quieter. I tightened the strap on my satchel as the locomotive steamed into the station. Following the crowd, I flashed my ticket to the conductor and was waved to a passenger car. I took a seat near the back and slouched down, sliding my hat over my face. It wasn't much longer before the train started moving again, and I felt myself start to nod off.
The ache in my side roused me first, the handle of my knife jabbing a rib. I slipped it back around, and sat straighter, taking in the scene. The sun was at that final stretch of sky, beating the train to the coast. It was the chattering that caught my attention, suddenly silenced by the sharp crack of the butt end of a revolver against the doorjamb. The sound was repeated twice more, and a dirty fellow in a black hat stepped into the car, followed by two riflemen. They were wearing masks.
No one put up a fight as a fourth one came up from behind them with a bag. As the other passengers started throwing in their money, jewels and watches, I leaned back and assumed my previous pose, my hat over my face. A small tap with my heel, and I felt my other blade was still sheathed in my boot.
A harsh, muffled voice shouted at me. Not moving a muscle, I feigned sleep until my hat was knocked off my head by a firm slap. My eyes glanced over the interloper, tall, slim, and with the eyes of a scared child. He couldn't have been more than sixteen. Taking up my hat, I felt for the diamond, feeling it safe in the band. Once safely back atop my head, I reached for the boy, quick as a snake, and grabbed a fistful of hair, slamming his face into the seat in front of me.
The guns pointed at me were kept silent thanks to the boy in my grasp. He whimpered as a dark stain spread over the bandana covering his face, and I shuffled him into the aisle. I asked nicely. Seemed the least I could do. They declined, pointing out my lack of firepower. That was a point I had to concede.
My foot came up to the kid's backside, and a firm shove had him stumbling over his pals. A hard stomp released the catch in my boot sheathe, sending my knife into the air and in my grasp as I sprang forward, letting my weight disorient most of the gang. Some of the passengers up front took advantage of the commotion to disarm the riflemen. The leader shoved the boy away and ran back through the door before the way could be cleared.
I caught the kid before his head hit the floor, and was frozen as my eyes met another pair. She had blue eyes, light as the afternoon sky with long dark lashes and hair as black as ink. The dress she had on was suitable for a woman in mourning. She looked too young to be a widow. I fought to pry my eyes from her quivering lips, lifting my hat to her and passing the boy to one of the armed passengers to look after.
I ran out the door. A glance showed me he hadn't retreated into the next car, so I crushed my hat, stuffing it into my belt as I grasped a ladder and climbed up to the roof of the car. I was nearly given a lead slug for my efforts. A second shot hit the car behind me, his aim thrown off by the rocking of the train.
I pulled myself up and charged, fighting the wind, the motion of the car, and the urge to leap out of the way of his next shot. It went wild, and I lunged, my knife carving a slit into his hand. He fell back, still grasping his weapon, and I fell onto my face, struggling not to slip over the side. He got up first.
It was taking all I had just to hold on. As his hand came up, I felt certain the next shot would go through my skull. The crack of a rifle was almost lost in the wind, and we both looked off to the side to see a rider in a long duster racing the train on a gray horse. The next shot from the rider missed as well, but it was enough to have my opponent focus on him instead for his next shot.
I brought my legs back up under me and jumped again, tackling the gunman as his shot went off. I saw the rider fall, but felt a stab of panic in my heart as I tumbled off the side of the train. I reached for the edge, missed, and went tumbling along the ground as the cars thundered by.
My fall was softened by the green grass, but I still felt each blow of an errant rock or pebble as my body was battered along the ground. When I came to a stop, I lay still, dazed for some minutes. A sharp breath filled my lungs, and coughs wracked my body until I regained their equilibrium. Getting up slowly, my eyes scanned the area for the gunman. There wasn't a sign of him. Drawing my hat from my belt, I beat it back into shape and slipped it on, looking around some more. There was a figure in a brown duster a few hundred yards off being nudged by a gray horse.
The rider lay still as I approached, obscured by a mass of long brown hair. I saw a red stain spread across his shirt, and I ripped it open to inspect the wound. I found I was mistaken. The rider was a woman. A revelation that stunned me until a surprisingly firm punch from her had me flat on my back again.

I woke up with a bad case of dry mouth. Not a pleasant way to wake up. Recurring dreams are nothing new to me, there are even ones that change over time. This is a rare case where a dream has a sequel. I wonder if there's a market out there for western adventures.

Just Five More Minutes...

2011-04-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

I was seated at a writing desk, my feet propped up on an open drawer, with a laptop quite appropriately on my lap. The walls were painted a forest green, and outside the curtained windows I could see the trees turning golden from the autumn. Another glance over the desk revealed a shelf with bookends containing between them a collection of Raymond Chandler, as well as some titles unfamiliar to me save for a couple. They were my books. And on the screen in front of me was another work in progress.
I set the laptop on the desk and go over what I have put down. Nero was working another case with his more effective if questionable methods, and his girl caught him at it again. Doesn't look like he'll be able to talk his way out of it so easily this time, but I have a feeling they'll work it out. They always do.
As I was reaching for the keys, I felt a set of slender fingers sift through my hair, getting a handful before slicking it back. The tips came back through, gently caressing my scalp above and behind my ears. I would have preferred they scratched a little lower. She knows this.
"Why does he only call her "darling" when he's in trouble?" She asked me with amusement giving a musical lilt to her voice.
"He hopes it'll be endearing." I answered. "I don't know if it should have quite the effect he intends. What do you think?"
She continued scratching lightly behind my ear. Her fingers slipped lower onto my shoulders as her lips took their former position by my right ear.
"She wishes he would call her that without being in trouble."
"He likes to call her 'My Love'."
"And as you keep telling me, variety is the spice of life." She reminded me teasingly.
I loved seeing this side of her.
"Sounds like you had a good time today." I said, reaching back to touch her face. It didn't take long for my fingers to trail down past her shoulders.
"You should come next time." She replied. I was halfway through a double-entendre when an electric chime came through my ears.

I opened my eyes to darkness. My hand automatically reached over for my phone and I checked the number. Not recognizing it, I answered. Maybe I should have hung up. I did a minute or two later, but I indulged her with some texts, wishing all the while that I could get back to my dream. I never did. I never could turn down a damsel in distress, but sometimes I wonder if it's really worth the trouble.

Wings Of Honor

2011-02-08T03:23:00.000-08:00

I didn't think I would see her again, but there she was, her dark eyes gazing at me. She was dressed the same as she was the last time I saw her, black lace up boots, red fishnets with suspenders, pleated gray skirt, and a tight white blouse under a red sweater vest. She had her hair in an updo this time, and was all the more lovely for it. She was sprawled provocatively along her name, intricately painted underneath her on the nose of the aircraft. July. An odd name for a girl, but more lyrical than May, June, or April. The last dream I had of her certainly had it's share of fireworks...
I patted the nose of the plane and gave the pilot a thumbs-up and jogged to the hangar. As is sometimes the case, I was able to trace the origin of this dream from something in the waking world, this time from a conversation I was having with a friend of mine over the weekend. I told her I loved the old aviator aesthetic, a fascination she shares. And a concept that has ingrained itself in my dreams. I watched as the bomber took off for parts unknown, hearing engines turn all around me as other planes, bombers and even some vintage fighters started up.
Then I heard the sirens.
Crews scrambled to get the planes spinning and up in the air. I was shoved aside by a guy in a tan jacket hauling a duffel bag. He exited the hangar through a side door. I continued on, looking around. I saw her at the end, getting a tune-up from a mechanic.
She was a P-51 Mustang, painted gunmetal grey with two red pinstripes streaming along either side of the fuselage. The bubble canopy, dorsal fin, and four bladed propeller showed her to be a D model, a later addition to the war. The engine was exposed, the nose sheathing discarded on the floor. Remembering that Chuck Yeager had named his planes Glamorous Glennis, I glanced down to it, only making out the letters "-lla" before the mechanic shouted. After a brief exchange, he said she was grounded and wouldn't fly.
I was ready to tear out my hair, but that wouldn't help things. It didn't keep me from going to the back of the hangar and kicking the door open. That was when the bombs started falling. One flashed close by and I was knocked aside by the blast. When I came to, I wasn't at the hangar, but in the back of a plane. With all the jostling, I could tell we were up in the air, me and the soldiers decked out in gear appropriate for the period. One slapped me on the shoulder and shouted something. I didn't hear and was about to ask he repeat when the side hatch opened and they started jumping.
I was rather unceremoniously tossed out.
The other guys had parachutes and were floating above me, coasting safely towards the ground. Despite the tumbling, I wasn't panicked yet. I had no chute, and I didn't have a drop pod this time. I wasn't even falling with much style. Looking down, I made out a country road, green hills, and a town a few miles out. The trees looked soft enough.
I figured I had less than a minute before I found out when my belt was caught on something. My trajectory changed to a more horizontal one, and as I neared the ground, I was dropped hard, but not as hard as I would have been at terminal velocity. I rolled over, looking up at the paratroopers and saw a familiar looking finhead rocket by.
Next time, I'm going to have to dream up a rocket pack for myself.

Now, Count Up Your Sins

2011-02-05T03:30:00.000-08:00

I found myself walking in a black void. I could feel the floor under the soles of my boots. It felt like asphalt, it had that hint of softness to it with each step I took. A spotlight came on in front of me, showing a white suited figure with a matching fedora. It was either Michael Jackson or Narumi Sokichi from Kamen Rider W.
Saa, omae no tsumi wo, kazoe.
Okay, I guess that answers that question. He walked further into the void and I followed until he went around an unseen corner. Once there, the world brightened up enough for me to see that I was once more by my usual coffee shop. Down this corridor lies an Italian restaurant that I am almost convinced is a front for the mob (seriously) and an alleyway that featured in an earlier dream. Rather than go towards Ben, I walked through to the street.
Looking at the clouds overhead, it felt later than I would normally be on these streets, yet the town was alive. Every joint had it's lights on, and I was passing by people enjoying a night on the town. As I walked on, I lost sight of Narumi Sokichi, yet a familiar looking figure caught my eye through the window of a used bookstore.
The chime sounded when I entered, but when I made it around the corner she wasn't there. Just the glint of steel tucked into a bookcase to my right. I plucked out the blade, tracing the pad of my thumb along the glyph engraved on the tang. It's Archer's, alright. She's persistent, but she'll have to wait her turn.
Looking back to the shelf, I pulled out the book she had tucked the knife beside; The Long Goodbye, by Raymond Chandler. A decent read, though not my favorite of his. I set it back into the shelf and walked out of the store, flipping Archer's knife in my hand. I caught the tip between two fingers and gave it another flip to set the handle in my palm. It's well balanced. She does good work, and I hope to see if I can do as much someday.
I stopped cold when I saw him in front of me. For a moment, I was glad I had a blade in my hand, but that passed quickly. Cait would be aghast if I had gotten blood on her knife for any reason other than defense. With another twirl through my fingers, I tucked behind me on my belt and approached my father.
As I stood face to face with him, I had remembered a scene from Alexandre Dumas' Twenty Years After: "...it was not a man... It was an apparition.... I conjured it away". The malice was clearly written on his face. I stared him down and he seemed to fade before me. I reached out to see if he were really there, and he vanished altogether in a white mist. The tips of my fingers brushed something soft. I made a grab and my hand came back with a white fedora. It had a tall crown, a wide brim, and a solid black band. I turned it around, feeling it's weight. It was a solid hat. White doesn't suit me, but something compelled me to put it on. It was a perfect fit.
As I continued on down the sidewalk, I pulled the brim lower over my eyes. Saa, omae no tsumi wo, kazoe.

2011-01-12T11:29:00.000-08:00

The city was laid out before me, it's glow much gentler than the black clouds above. With a gloved hand, I tugged my hat forward a shade. My eyes traced the barren streets and alleyways, and I didn't see a sign of anyone.
"It's the mystery," said a slightly metallic voice from behind me.
I turned to see her glowing form step from the shadows. She was literally glowing, strips of light embedded into her white outfit. It was as tight as a second skin, and even her face was powdered white.
Her heels clicked like a metronome as she stepped up beside me.
"You like to earn your answers." she said, staring at me with sky blue eyes. Her face stood out like a ghost with her black hair fading into the darkness.
"I was never one for a siren's song." I replied, remembering where I had seen her. I'm a bit of a Bogie fan, and playing with femme fatales never ends well. I walked away and doffed my hat, clipping it to the belt of my coat before slipping on my helmet. As I mounted my bike, she had another pearl of wisdom to share.
"You won't find your answer out there."
With one last look at her, I flicked down my visor and rode off.

There was a burst of dirt and gravel a few feet in front of me. I had ducked down to shield my face, then sprinted on through. The setting was different. It was during the day, the sky overcast, and this neighborhood had obviously seen better days. And I had a large silvery knife in each hand. And I heard running with scissors was bad.
I stopped before a corner and peeked around, seeing something large, metal, and bipedal. I didn't bother to look any higher than it's legs, those were scary enough. But the access panel on the hip looked promising. As it stepped closer, I ran out and grabbed ahold of it's thigh, rising up with it's next step. As it came down, I lifted myself up and used a knife to pry open the panel, revealing a few circuit boards inside, as well as few thin rubber hoses.
I slashed the tubes open and was rewarded with a spray of fluid. The machine crashed down with it's next step, and I jabbed my knife through the circuit boards reflexively hoping to brace myself. With a jolt, I realized how bad an idea that was and managed to let go as the live current gave me a shock. As I crumpled into the ground, I looked up to see the machine rear back and roar, it's shape reminiscent of Metal Gear Rex.

I closed my eyes and felt myself sinking. There was a nothingness, a void, but I felt the grit against my skin. Not like a sand or gravel, but more like a fine granule of sugar. I sunk lower into the mass, as slow as molasses, but it was relaxing. Soothing. I sank deeper and felt myself start to fade. Thoughts and feelings passed through me like smoke in the wind, and in the end there was a warm darkness.

It was early. The sun was out, but I could hear my brother heading off for school, and the neighbors stirring in their yard next door. I coughed, letting out some of my congestion into a tissue. I'm still fighting a cold, but at least I'm winning. Weird dreams aside, it seems I finally got some regular hours in as far as sleep goes.

The Rider

2011-01-11T00:56:00.000-08:00

The customized black Honda CBR roared beneath me, and the tires squealed as I skidded to a hard stop. Sparks flew around me, explosive quills shot out from a creature that was in pursuit. It's massive jaws were lined with jagged teeth, with claws spreading across it's forearms.
It spoke Japanese. Yea, I think I know where my subconscious dug this one up. I dismounted and tossed my helmet. Making a fist, I threw it out to the side, feeling the bracer materialize on my arm. My left hand drew a card from the holder on my belt, flipping it between my fingers as it came up to my face.
"Henshin!"
One smooth movement slipped it into the slot, and it locked in place, the armor materializing around me. I tried working out the physics once. A pocket of compressed space formed by an artificial gravity well. Of course, it's not technologically feasible now, but it's theoretically possible.
The creature charged, swiping it's tail at me and I leaped back, mounting my bike. I revved it up and rode over the offending appendage, and stopped hard on the front wheel, swinging the rear around. It collided with the monster, sending it flying into a support pillar of the overpass. Time to end this.
I drew another card from my belt, swiping it through a reader mounted on the gas tank. Turbines whirred within the machine, and it crackled with lightning. I took aim, and charged, ramming the beast head on, and it exploded in a gout of flame.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my brother unplug his playstation portable and rush out the door. He was late for school. And as I rolled over to go back to sleep, I made a mental note to ask him what episode of Kamen Rider he was watching.

The Ride

2011-01-06T01:33:00.000-08:00

"You're going to be late," She told me.
"A few minutes would be worth it," I replied, holding her closer. The bed felt too warm to leave. So did she.
After a moment or two, she turned in my arms and pressed her lips warmly to mine, tracing a cool finger along the side of my face.
"Time to go."
A blink later had me stepping out of the shadows of a parking garage. I was in a classic motorcycle jacket, black with matching gloves and boots, in jeans. She was waiting for me right in front of the elevator. Her trim figure was sleek and smooth, and while she had a over a decade on me in terms of age, her form was absolute perfection. You could tell she had some work done on her, and it was well worth the money.
A black full-face helmet was hanging from the handlebars of the vintage cafe racer. I slipped it on and took my place, feeling her come to life beneath me. She pulled out smoothly, and we hit the road.
She took me to the feeway, and traffic was thick today. Nothing we couldn't handle, weaving in between the cars almost effortlessly. I came around from behind a white semi truck when I saw them, a swarm of red-orange vespas taking up two lanes. They were so densly packed I couldn't find a way through, and I was forced to slow so as not to crash into them.
We edged close up to the semi once more, and when I saw an opening form we surged through. Like a school of fish, the vespas almost swarmed around us, but they didn't have the speed or power to match a triumph. I pumped my fist in celebration as we rode on, the road clearing up greatly as it lead into a series of curves.
It was late by the time we made it to the school. I pulled up inside the long shadow of a building and dismounted, leaving my helmet behind with my ride. I walked up to the door and she stepped out, cradling two books in her arms. The thin framed glasses were new, but suited her nicely, as did the light pink sweater vest she wore over a white blouse.
She came up to me with a playful smile on her lips and I reached out, tracing her face like she had done to me in bed earlier. From this angle, the setting sun sparkled in her eyes, and I wrapped my arms around her, enjoying the warmth I had left all too soon before. I nuzzled her neck, and she sighed contentedly in my ear.
Letting go, she took my hand, and we walked along the sidewalk, her fingers entwined with mine.
When I woke up to the shadows of my bedroom, I had a strange craving for a milkshake and a cheeseburger.

Guardian

2010-12-29T21:51:00.000-08:00

It looked like rain in the city. The sky above the glass and steel towers threatened a downpour any second, but my concern lied more with the limo coming from up the street. Around me were menacing looking men in black suits. The ties varied, but shades and earpieces were all common. I was dressed likewise, with a red tie, right down to the earpiece. Reaching to my belt, I felt a small leather sheath. It's always good to have a friend.
As the limo pulled up, one of the suits went over to open the door, the rest looking around for any threats. I didn't see anything untoward as a man in a light gray suit stepped out, taking the arm of a conservatively dressed blonde. She seemed only a few years younger than him, and there was definitely an affection between them going by their smiles. Two of my group walked with them inside.
I was a little surprised when a child came out of the limo, a young boy no older than five dressed in a suit that matched the older gentleman with a lighter shirt and striped tie. He looked around nervously, but nobody stepped forward to help him, or lead him inside.
After a moment, he was joined by an sandy haired man in a navy suit. He walked up to the child, patted him on the head, and knelt down in front of him. Something about him felt off. As amicable as his smile was, it seemed just a little too stiff, and there was a mischief in his eyes that was even more apparent when he reached into his pocket and handed something to the boy. That done, he got up again and walked through the line of suits once more.
When I looked back to the boy, he was cradling something in the palm of his hand. It was a small, worm-like creature with chalky white skin and a dozen legs wriggling with pincers taking up the front of it's head.
"Save the prince!"
I had no idea why I just yelled that, but I was by the kid's side in a dash and had snatched the thing away from him. I felt a sharp pinch on my finger and looked on as it wriggled it's way under the skin. As I felt it crawling up under my flesh, I took my knife from it's sheath, snapping it open and slicing a slit in my finger. I could see it thrashing about, and using the blade, I flicked it out along with a slice of skin.
Once on the ground, the creature tried to skitter away only to be stopped by the black shoe of one of the agents standing about. I pulled out a handkerchief from a pocket and wrapped my hand. The child ran to the couple, who had just stepped out from the building, most likely from hearing the commotion. If he's a prince, they must be the king and queen.
I looked around for the guy in the navy suit, but he was nowhere to be found.
It was dark when I woke up. Reaching under my bed, I picked up my ipod and saw that it was only five in the morning. I had only been asleep a few hours.
In my dreams, I'm often a soldier, but only once a cop, that I can remember. This time, I was some kind of secret service agent? I wonder where my sub-conscious dug that up from. There's a lot in this that doesn't make immediate sense, but perhaps it'll come to me later. At the very least, it could make for an interesting story idea.

Someone To Wake Up To

2010-11-19T00:14:00.000-08:00

I opened my eyes to the glow of the sun through my bedroom window. It was cold this morning. As I shifted, I felt a wisp against my face, and reached over, feeling the soft warmth of her hair. She stirred, pressing her body against me, snuggling in the warmth generated between us.
I let my fingers sift through her hair, trailing down the side of her face. She raised her arm, allowing my hand to reach around, pulling her closer. Her hand pressed mine against her body, and held me there warm and content. We lay like that for awhile, maybe as much as half an hour. My lips then found her neck through her hair, nibbling at her flesh. I was rewarded with a sigh, and her hand released mine to reach back and feel through my hair.
I then found myself in the kitchen, washing my coffee mug and gazing out at the horizon, the sun washing out the sky with it's brightness. The water had steamed up the window, but my thoughts were dismissed as her arms wrapped around me, her hands joining mine in the sink. I dropped the mug, feeling her play her fingers against mine in the hot stream from the faucet. She asked where I wanted to go today. I thought Venice sounded nice. She preferred the beach. I got out from between her arms and kissed her, gently at first, but warmly. Her hands, still wet from the sink, pressed against my shoulders, drawing me closer. We had all the time in the world.
I awoke with a bit of a start. The chill in the air caught in my throat, drawing a cough from me. I breathed into my hands to warm them, and ran one along my scalp. I had gotten a haircut yesterday, my hair much shorter than in my dream.
It was a nice dream, what I can remember of it. I'm feeling a little uncomfortable with who I had dreamed of, and what our relationship seemed to be in that dream. Granted, it may signify something entirely different, if it would signify anything. It's just a dream. Even if it did hit a few nerves. For this one, I think I would prefer that a cigar just be a cigar.

Seriously? Lederhosen?!

2010-09-25T03:58:00.000-07:00

Oddly, my dreams usually make a lot of sense. My war dreams: I play a lot of first person shooter games. In them, I'm often handy with a sniper rifle or a melee weapon. It doesn't take Freud. Yet this one... Well, I had only one reaction to this one.
I was back in my old neighborhood. With the chill in the air and the soft glow of a halo around the street and porch lights meant it was the middle of the night, perhaps as early as three in the morning. The light catches onto the moisture in the air, hence the halo effect. I was walking from a one story house at the end of a cul-de-sac, heading into the street. What I was investigating was obvious enough. He was dressed in faded jeans and a light grey sweatshirt with his black hair in a sharp bowl cup. And he was making all kinds of noise as he ran along the yards and hiding behind cars, jumping out and making a huge racket.
So just to sum up: It was back in my old neighborhood, it was the middle of the night, and I'm the only one who woke up to see why some scrawny kid with possible mental issues is making a fuss.
I called out to him, asking him what he was doing, why he was making the noise, but he seemed more simian than man as he kept on hooting and hollering. I got fed up with being ignored and chased after him, but he was too nimble for me to catch. I was about to give up when a group of kids came running from a house across the street.
I heard one of them call him "Jacob", and she asked what was wrong. She looked to be about sixteen with honey blonde hair and amber eyes, wearing dark jeans and a white tank top. I told her that "Jacob" was having a fit or something and that I couldn't get him calmed down. With her and her group of friends running interference, I was able to finally catch Jacob, and the girl apologized for the trouble and asked if I could bring him back to their party.
Not knowing what else to do, I led Jacob along with them, right towards the corner house across the street. I knew that place well, it belonged to some of my best friends. But as the girl led me up the driveway, I knew there would be changes. For one, there didn't used to be a doorway in the kitchen. Second of all, for a one story house, when I got inside and passed the hall, the place had expanded into a vast chamber that looked more like it was a hotel carved from a giant tree.
I let Jacob join the others as I looked around when I felt something soft brush my arm. I turned to look and jumped a step back as I saw it was a giant spider-web, which was crawling with arachnids. I nudged my young host and asked if they were there to keep the bugs down. She promptly replies: "What bugs?" Silly me, thinking there would be bugs.
It was obvious there was some kind of party going on. Some kids were watching a movie, others sitting around on cushions, talking. And the girl who seemed to be their ring leader was making out with a much older guy. Well, I had seen enough. I went back through the kitchen and out the door when I had spotted an orange rectangle in the driveway. I was a wet piece of fabric that had the letters CSA in the middle. And around it was a circular border that spread out into a swastika. Nazis?
"Traitor!"
What? I looked up and got a bright, neon green water balloon in my face. Parked at the curb was a station wagon. In the front seat were a pair of skin heads that were laughing at me. The one who yelled was a woman in the back, holding what appeared to be some kind of cannon.
"Traitor! We don't need any traitors!" She cried, sending a flurry of water balloons at me with the cannon. I don't know what made her think I was a traitor, I came primarily from mexican stock, but that was not something I should probably correct a bunch of neo-nazi clowns on. They might start throwing something worse than water balloons. I started jogging across the street when screams came out from the surrounding houses, and I noticed the front door to my place was open.
Oddly, the first thing I noticed was that the walls were painted a sky blue. The second thing I noticed was my mother running out with a broom, and a bunch of white supremacists chanting racist slogans while wearing black military hats and lederhosen. I would have started laughing if not for the serious attitude that was apparent on their faces. And yet a click from behind me was enough to distract.
I turned around and saw a guy in a straw hat taking pictures. One of them, I thought, so I gave chase humming Yakety-Sax simply because the whole thing seemed absurd and I thought it fitting.
"Stop! Get him!" I heard the cry from one of the lederhosen wearing punks who were now in the middle of the street. All of them started pulling out guns. I promptly stopped, shifted my weight back, and charged them. Suddenly, my point of view shifted into third person, and as threw out my arms, blades sprung out from my wrists and I ran towards them wearing the assassin's clothes of Ezio Auditore, complete with a cape and a beaked hood.
As I ran, a tingling grew in my right leg. My focus shifted back into first person view, and the tingling grew. Everything started feeling distant, and I awoke to the droning of the fan in the window and the shadows of my bedroom.
My reaction to that particular dream was something out of Assassin's Creed II as well.

Howdy

2010-08-31T19:08:00.000-07:00

The night was lit up by fireworks in the sky, the stillness of the desert air broken by the cheering crowd. I stepped out from under an awning and into the dirt road that ran along the center of town, nearly filled with people watching the show. The fourth of July. Seems like a good party, but I felt myself drawn to a two story building across the street.
I never dreamed of the old west before, in spite of the John Wayne movies I've seen as a kid. It never really appealed to me as a setting. But here I was. Moseying. I walked into the building and a bearded man beckoned me over to the counter. I cringed as the jingling of spurs met my ears, and when I got to the counter he tossed me a paper.
He told me a shipment of diamonds was carried off of a train last week, and that there were some suspicious characters that had checked out a room upstairs. He didn't want any trouble, but the reward money would more than pay for any damages, and he would be willing to split it. Generous of him, since I was the one doing the work. I got the feeling I worked there. I didn't realize they had hotel detectives back in those days, but it seemed that was the job.
He gave me the spare key to the room and I set down the paper before starting up the stairs. The explosions outside were muted to a quiet pop in the corridor. Reaching down, I couldn't find a six-gun, and was confused for a moment until I reached behind my back to feel the long bone handle of a bowie knife. I drew it from my belt, revealing a broad blade with a clip point. That'll do.
I held it in a reverse grip with my right hand, using my left to unlock the door. The key clicked loudly in the lock, and I paused a moment. I didn't hear any movement inside. I turned the knob and pushed, standing aside in case of a shot. Nothing. Very carefully, I eased my head around the frame.
Two large beds occupied the center of the room, both unmade, and one a bloody mess with a large man lying atop it. He had several holes in him, and tears in his clothing. He put up a fight, but the blade that killed him didn't seem to have an edge. An icepick, perhaps? He bled out more from the wound on his neck, most likely having his carotid artery punctured. A hard shot with a slim blade like that.
Next to the bed was a short dresser with a large jewelry box sitting atop it. All it's drawers were open, some were missing, and scattered all around were gems of various shapes, shades, and sizes. But no diamonds.
Guess I spoke too soon. In the dim lamplight, a glimmer from the corner by the window caught my eye. It was a small one, but looked real enough. Even if I don't catch the rest of the gang, it could be worth something. I tucked it into my hat and looked over to the window. A boot imprint was visible on the sill, and down below was a long awning that looked to be the roof of the stables. So that's how they got away.
Climbing out the window, I jumped down from the roof of the stables. The flashes from the fireworks overhead caused shadows to dance along the ground, illuminating the hoof prints of their horses. The smoke dissipated further along their trail, the stars and moon overhead would light the way. Sheathing my knife, I saddled the nearest horse and rode after them.
It didn't take long to track them down. There was an abandoned homestead not far from town, and they seemed to have stopped there for the night. I hitched my horse to a tree behind a hill and reconnoitered. One lookout, with a cigarette in his face, and a rifle slung across his back. Piece of cake.
I snuck around from the far side of the house, being careful when passing under the window. Drawing my knife, I cut a piece of rope from a length that was lying on the ground and wrapped it around my left fist, leaving a length dangling. With my knife back in it's sheathe, I took off my hat for a peak around the corner. His back was turned. I ran up, whipping the rope around his throat and pulling tight, garroting him. Though the rope was taught around his neck, he flailed wildly. I managed to cut off enough of his air for him to pass out, but the commotion probably alerted those inside. I'm out of time.
Bursting through the door, I had my knife in hand, and assessed the situation right away. I had four guns pointed at me from four corners of the room. I jumped through the window in front of me just as they went off. Getting back to my feet, I took a peek back inside. That's four of them down. I wonder if the reward needed them back alive.
A shadow from behind had me jump aside, leaving me with just a slash in my arm rather than my neck. He had on a black vest, a black hat, and a large machete with my blood on it. I lifted the brim of my hat using the tip of my blade and spun it back into a reverse grip. He made the first swing. I parried with my blade and turned, using my other hand to catch his head and throw him into the broken window. He didn't go all the way through, hanging over the edge of the sill. And as he came back up, bits of broken glass clung to him. His blade changed hands, and he reached down for his gun. I spun my knife around, readying it for a throw.
When I got up, I had a pain in my neck and a splitting headache. The sun was shining through my windows, and as I reached over for my glasses, I wondered what brought that dream on. And whether or not I had won my quick draw duel.

The High Road

2010-08-17T00:27:00.000-07:00

My dreams usually feel like something out of a video game and this was no exception. The details are getting kind of fuzzy now, but for the first part, I was blasted out of a cannon, landed on top of a grassy mesa. It was right up against the side of a cliff face, which wasn't a difficult climb. It did lead to a rocky path that came out to a small village.
It looked like something out of Disneyland, or Thief: The Dark Project. The cobblestone streets were lined with shops. Following it to the right, the path stopped at a railing overlooking a view of Disneyland. Guess I got the first part right, except I was very high up, and there's nothing like this at Disneyland.
I backtracked, following the path up and to the right. Just about all the shops seemed closed, though there were a few that looked open. One souvenir shop even had racks of display swords out front, some of which looked to be as long as I am tall, with two blades. The longer blade was thick at the base and swept up in a long fin shape, about four feet long. The handle was red wrapped in black cord, which ended in a shorter blade with a similar shape, but less than a foot long. Interesting, but hardly practical.
I walked back the way I came and noticed an open door in a side corridor. Inside looked like a cross between an antique shop and a museum. It was a mix of dusty mannequins, ancient armors, wooden furniture and fixtures hand made by craftsmen. The lamplight, faded by the years, casts a yellow glow along the red brick walls. And along one wall, from the rafters to atop a cabinet, was a rack of longbows. Their quality varied from simple to ornate, one of which looked strikingly similar to one I saw in a comic book once.
"I know what you're thinking. It's real."
Hearing that voice, I was expecting Archer, probably an association I made when looking at the bows. But I looked over and saw a young woman, tall, dark brown hair that reached to the small of her back, and luminous brown eyes. She had a lithe figure under a navy sweatshirt with a hood and dark jeans that were quite flattering to her form. She nodded her head towards the bows up on the wall.
"English royalty would sometimes thin their bows so they wouldn't intimidate visiting dignitaries." She told me.
I didn't believe her. For one, the longbow was a peasant weapon. Royals wouldn't use one, save for perhaps when hunting. Secondly, noblesse oblige would probably be a foreign concept to them during the time such weapons would be in use. And "thinning" doesn't sound like an actual archery term or practice, and if it were, it doesn't sound like it would serve any practical purpose. I was about to say so when she walked off, and I found myself following her to another room of the shop.
She ran her fingers along the counter tops as she walked. Her steps were so smooth she almost seemed to be gliding across the floor. She opened a door on the far wall, and I followed her into a narrow white hallway. The door was right in the corner, the hall leading forwards and to the right, with barely enough room for my shoulders either way. She paused after a few steps and looked back past me, to the door I had just came through.
The door opened once again, and out came a photographer with an interesting fashion sense. He was slim as to be almost skeletal, and the short pink mohawk was particularly glaring to look at. I didn't get a good look at his face, his camera came up as he declared that it was time to replace her portrait and snapped away at her.
The girl I was following stood taller and posed as her picture was taken, a very demure look coming upon her face as the photographer snapped picture after picture. This only lasted for a few seconds until he turned around and vanished through the door. That was when I noticed the recessed frame in the wall. I only caught a glimpse of the picture when she had reached in, grabbed it, and carelessly tossed it down the hall. She even stepped on it as though it weren't even there as she continued on, suddenly taking on a hauteur that was jarring, and even rather ugly to witness.
I didn't bother following, instead reaching down to the floor to pick up the photo. Her eyes were brighter than they had seemed when I first met her by the longbows, outshone only by her smile. I wondered how it would feel to kiss her. Then I remembered how she looked and acted just now in the hallway and wondered why I would ever consider that in the first place. Whatever. Folding the picture, I tucked it neatly under my vest, into the pocket of my shirt and walked on in the direction that she went.
I was awakened by a knocking at the door. As I snapped upright in bed, I remembered that I had to help clean out the storage unit today. Going over the dream in my mind, I started piecing together where my subconscious had dug up each part from. The mesa felt like something out of a Mario game from the previous generation, right down to being blasted out of a cannon. The cobble stone streets, and much of the shops was indeed something out of the Thief series, although the area by the swords felt like the marina over at Redondo Beach.
The antique shop was unique. It was unlike anything I have experienced, yet would be something I would very much like to run across in real life. Perhaps I'll get the chance to someday. The longbows didn't bring to mind anything, save for one which did resemble one I saw in an issue of Young Avengers. And then there was the girl.
At first I thought she was Caitlyn, a character in my writings. She sounded like how I imagine Archer would speak, but Cait has hazel eyes and jet black, shoulder length hair. Truthfully, the girl I dreamed up could match up to any number of women I've seen. I'm leaning strongly towards someone I may have seen at work, though it could be anyone. As it is now, I'm having trouble remembering the details of her face, but I still remember her eyes.

A Very Rude Awakening

2010-07-05T16:43:00.000-07:00

There was very little lighting in the narrow corridor I was walking down. It was bright enough to see where I was going, and to see the other people walking by me, but the faint illumination only served to wash the color out of the scene. I didn't know anybody walking by, just nameless, faceless people. They could've been anybody from anywhere, but they held no importance. We just passed each other on by without a word.
Save for one. Not only did he have a face and a name, it was someone I knew more than I would have liked. He reached out to me. He was saying something. He wanted to talk, to reconcile, to work things out. He wanted to be my father again. The shock only lasted a moment.
The next instant had my fist in his face. It felt like punching a sack of flour, and he exploded like one, disappearing in a puff of smoke. He was gone, and I was alone in the corridor.
Opening my eyes, I felt my head against the pillow and saw the door to my room past the bundle of swords against the wall. I was about to close my eyes and go back to sleep when I felt someone there and I jerked my neck to up to see my father standing at the side of my bed. He lunged at me with his arms outstretched with the speed of a cobra and I kicked my legs against the bed, pushing myself back and away.
My back slammed against the wall hard, as did my head. I didn't waste time with the pain, raising my arms to fend off an attack that wasn't there. Looking around, there was no sign of my father. Just the sounds of the early morning and the faint light coming through my window. Running my hand over my face, I was certain I was awake this time. Of course that's what I had thought the last time. Still, when I set my head back on the pillow, I never really could get back to sleep.

The Muse's Song

2010-06-17T21:36:00.000-07:00

It felt like I was back in that lava tube in Hawaii. Pitch black, but with a cool dampness. There was a solid floor underfoot, and the wall felt natural, but without a torch, I had to pick my way carefully.
I still had a light at the end of the tunnel. It was there that I had found the helmet. It was made up of solid steel plates that were riveted together, forming a cross across the face with eye slits under the arms. I had this in mind earlier, when I was still at work. My muse has the most inopportune timing sometimes. I kept this particular story going through my mind over and over so as not to forget.
She usually inspires with poetry, and lately with Nero's somewhat half-boiled adventures. That night, she was singing, and a ballad at that. She sung a story of a knight that kept the face of his lady behind his shield. Of course, whenever anyone looked, there was no such image on the shield itself. The story itself is rather depressing, right up until the end. Sometimes the bittersweet stories are the best. Of course, I still have to write this one down.
With the helmet in hand, I followed the tunnel until it opened up into a dense forest. It felt more like a mountainous area rather then the rain forests of Hawaii, significantly cooler in the twilight and less humid. And yet the sounds still carried well.
I couldn't make out all the words, but she was singing. And as the song progressed, I caught glimpses of the narrative in the forest, the young knight and his lady, the battles he fought throughout the years, all were taking place in the trees around me as I walked on. When she came to the part about the knight facing an infamous rival in battle her voice suddenly became silent.
From the shadows of the forest came the rival from the story, a knight whose armor was rusted from the blood of those he's slain. It's ruddy hue wasn't much of a contrast to the black helmet in my hands. I hadn't noticed until then, but they were encased in blackened steel gauntlets, and I had matching greaves over my boots. Yet the rest of my "armor" was composed of jeans and a black leather jacket. And he had a horse. Doesn't seem like a fair match up at all.
While I was contemplating the large sword in his hand, he gave a kick with his spurs and came charging at me. I only just had enough time to roll to the side, his blade coming close enough to my head to slice at some strands of hair. That was much too close for comfort. And while I didn't know where it had been, I had no other protection on hand aside from the helmet. I took a breath and slipped it on, panicking slightly from the blindness until my eyes found the slits. Just in time to see the knight charging at me again.
What's the first rule of self-defense again? Ah, that's right. RUN! And run I did, through the trees and the brush, stumbling over roots and fallen branches with the sound of the rider in pursuit behind me. I changed direction, time and again, cutting through rough foliage that should have at least given him pause. Unfortunately, that last shrub I jumped over was at the top of a steep incline.
I landed with all the grace of a rock and found myself looking up at the stars between the branches overhead. The sounds of the bloody knight echoed off into the distance, but I was too tired to care. I just lay there, listening to my breath filter through the thin slits in the helmet. And then her song reached my ears once again. I closed my eyes to listen, and when I opened them again, they saw sunlight instead of stars.

There is no parry

2010-05-28T01:20:00.000-07:00

He got a good hit in. The punch sent me stumbling back a few steps and popped my jaw. Working the muscles of my face snapped it back into place and I deflected another hit before striking back with a punch of my own. No good. He was too quick to block, I didn't have enough speed to connect.
I tried maneuvering to his weak side, using quick small steps to keep from sacrificing agility. He was able to keep up with me, each of my blows being blocked or deflected by his arm. He was about as tall as I was, though more strongly built. And fast for someone of his body type. We were fighting in shadow, the dim bulbs overhead casting faint columns of light that we weaved in and out of as we fought.
He was a boxer, that much felt obvious from his stance and his style of fighting. I'm not limiting myself to one particular style, but each punch or kick I throw doesn't get through. He lands another blow and I fall to one knee.
There is no parry. Only parry-riposte.
A lesson from my old fencing coach came to mind, and I rose to my feet with those words at heart. Stepping forward, I jab quickly with my left, having it blocked again. This time, I followed up right away with my right, my fist landing square on his jaw. I try again, feinting with the right this time and he moves to block, allowing me an opening for my left. I connect.
He picks up the pace, trying to prevent me from hitting him, and I move faster as well. Soon he's flailing, and I'm hitting him with every other punch I throw. I started to feel a sense of elation at that. I was winning.
I let my guard down. He was able to take a step back and landed his fist right into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I doubled over, screwing my eyes shut as I tried to get a breath in. And as the air wheezed back into my lungs, I opened my eyes to see a bus pulling up in front of me. I was outside, it was a bright day with the sun shining overhead and the light traffic of the mid-afternoon on the street before me.
I climbed aboard the bus, passing by the driver without paying the fare, and took a seat a few places down from the front. I leaned back into the seat, gazing out the window at a passing scenery. I didn't recognize any of it, but the shops themselves were discernible. There was an Italian place that looked good enough to take a date, with a florist shop conveniently close by. A Mexican restaurant was a few doors down from there followed by some apartments. And on we went down the street.
I felt some hands settle onto my shoulders. Soft hands with strong but nimble fingers. They gently probed the muscles there and slowly started to work out the tension I had leftover from the fight. I looked up to see a pair of warm brown eyes gazing serenely down at me. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her light brown hair was pulled back. And as I leaned further back, hanging my head over the edge of the seat to look at her, I could see that she was wearing a knitted shrug over a white dress with a floral print. Quite a lovely sight.
She was still working on my shoulders and I reached a hand up to brush it along her face and through her hair. Her smile brightened a shade, and she leaned over as if to kiss my forehead, stopping an inch above it. She made a comment about a the beating I took. I shrugged and asked if she knew a good place to get a cup of coffee. She said she did. And right before she could say anything more, I felt myself get pulled away as I woke up to the sun reflecting off the walls in my bedroom.

Combat Commander

2010-05-11T13:43:00.000-07:00

"Razor 2-1 setting up Recycler now. Deploying Armory on eastern geyser."
Strange for me to be starting out in a Razor scout tank. One is usually deployed in a Grizzly to start with, but then this is a reconnaissance mission. So why send a Recycler at all?
This dream started out on a red planet. Mars at night? It's too cool for Io. The Recycler is a mobile factory unit, the cornerstone of any base. It takes bio-metal scrap and turns it into other units. And it's powered using the energy from the geysers that are scattered throughout the landscape. Once it's set up, I'll have it turn out a scavenger to pick up material for defensive turrets. But it should be fine on it's own. For now.
I drove over to check on the armory, another factory unit used to make weapon enhancements. It also has a built in catapult to launch ammo and regeneration packs where needed. It can also be used to launch a Day-Wrecker bomb. For now, I'm just using it to attach a little something to my rocket hard point.
By the time that was done, the Recycler already had a Scavenger making runs for scrap. And I had a nav point to go investigate. It's been years since I've been behind the stick, but the Razor handles more like an airplane than a tank. It's even shaped like one with wings extending from the rear mounted engine as well as canards mounted on the nose in front of the cockpit. Fast and nimble as I maneuvered it down a shallow canyon. The area was littered with volcanic rocks and boulders, but they proved no trouble. The Razor, like most bio-metal vehicles, hovers.
I was halfway to the nav beacon when I reached a dead end in a box canyon. It wouldn't be too much of a problem to get out of there, at full speed, my jump jets could handle it. But then a gigantic six wheeled vehicle leaped from the ridge above, making a sharp turn as it landed in front of me. A soviet BTR.
An unusual thing to find in space. But then, it is much more massive than it's earthbound counterparts, and it practically bristled with heavy machine guns. Not something a Razor would likely to stand up to on it's own. I let loose a rocket and jetted back down the way I came. My shot did minimal damage, and the metal behemoth turned and gave chase, letting loose a torrent of metal with it's cannons. I swerved my tank up the walls of the canyon and down, much like a half-pipe. I didn't have enough momentum to escape up, but it was enough to evade.
I didn't have enough fire power to take it on my own, and even the turrets back at base wouldn't be a match. That limits my options. I clicked up the Armory on my HUD, and selected a spot up ahead. I'd have to time this just right, but it should work. I just prayed I lived through it.
My armor took a hit, and my engines and reactor were red-lined. It still wasn't enough to outrun the BTR. Looking up, I saw the package I had called in falling steadily to the ground. This was going to be close. I hit my jump jets and tilted my craft forward, hoping for a speed boost. It wasn't enough.
The Day-Wrecker exploded upon hitting the ground, sending my craft into a wild tumble. The engine blew, and life support started failing. I tried to level off as best I could, and hit the eject button. The seals on my helmet closed, filling it with air as the cockpit blew and I was shot into the air, my tank turning into a ball of flame and shrapnel beneath me.
There was too much dust in the air for me to get a clear picture of the ground. Shifting my body weight, I maneuvered my fall towards a nearby hill. My drop pack cut off just before I touched the ground, and I crouched, bringing my rifle up to scan the area. All guns in the future are boxy. At least this semi-automatic pulse rifle has an alternate fire mode with a scope and armor piercing rounds. Handy for jacking a tank, but I had already called up the Recycler to setup another Razor to pick me up.
I scanned the dust cloud through my scope, looking for any sign of the BTR. I figured the bomb would have destroyed it as it did my tank. The roar of it's engine had me snapping my scope to the right to see it driving away. It seems that drove it off, at least, but I'm going to need some heavier firepower if I'm going to take that thing out.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to look at the person seated next to me. Suddenly, I wasn't on mars anymore, finding myself seated on a bench in the middle of a white hallway. There were a few entryways set at regular intervals, and over to the right, it opened up into a large area with a slanted glass ceiling.
The guy sitting next to me was in a dark blue jacket with matching pants, and a ball cap hanging low over his eyes. He didn't say a word. I didn't offer any. I started to stand when I blinked, finding myself with a face full of sun from my bedroom window.

O_o

2010-04-13T02:49:00.001-07:00

This dream was particularly strange for a number of reasons. I don't remember where it started exactly, but I remember the girl. She was vivacious, spirited, and I distinctly remember holding her about her waist with both hands as we danced. It wasn't a waltz or anything that formal that I can recall. I just remembered holding her by the waistband of her jeans as we twirled, lifting her up, her hands on my shoulders, hearing her laughter and seeing her hair flare out in the sun. And when I brought her back down to earth, her arms surrounded my neck as she pressed her form against me.
We danced like that for some time, and I knew of nothing else but her smile and the warmth of her body in my hands. As well as the softness of her lips. When we finally came to a stop she peeled herself from me smoothly, like two statically charged pages of a magazine tearing reluctantly away from each other, until only our hands remained in contact. She held mine loosely around my knuckles and lead me over to an examination table.
I couldn't recall it's shape or form, or even if it had one at all. It was a part of the white space that made up the fog of the dream, or my memory of it. It was there and wasn't. She had released my hand, suddenly and inexplicably divested of her clothing, and lay down upon the table to stare up at the void around us. She seemed almost nervous, yet smiled reassuringly when I reached up to her face, my fingers tracing from her ear to her chin.
I leaned over and pressed my lips gently against hers, breathing in her sigh as my hand continued down to palm her neck, following the curve of her shoulder. I broke the kiss, lifting myself up as my hand traced her breast and settled onto the ribs beneath it. My fingers traced the bone beneath her flesh, and she stifled a giggle. I could feel the smile tug at the corners of my lips at that, and I looked up to see her swallow before asking me a question.
"Trying to find the quickest way to my heart?"
"You mean other than between the third and fourth rib?"
She smiled at the joke, and I spread my hand out against her body, watching it rise and fall with each breath she took. And then I opened my eyes, the brightness of her smile replaced by the sun reflecting off the walls of my bedroom.
This wasn't the first time I dreamed of her, but as things stand I almost hope that it's the last. I realize that, if there is any meaning to dreams they're probably more than as they initially seem. If there's any meaning. Regardless of what my subconscious may be trying to tell me, I'd rather it find a different... approach.

Eyes Up

2010-02-05T02:32:00.000-08:00

I could feel the weight of the weapon in my hands. It had a bit more heft to it than my previous dreams. I was once more a sniper, walking through the upper hallways of a skyscraper, looking out through the windows and into the deserted city. This area was clear, but I could still hear the distant rumblings of the battle elsewhere.
I continued on and soon came to a bridge that led to a building across the street. Most of the windows were blown out, and I can see a fight raging down below. Somehow, I had ended up behind enemy lines. Convenient, but as I looked down at the shooting, I realized I didn't see any friendlies. So who where they shooting at?
I lifted my rifle to the window and peered through the scope. My hand reached up to adjust the optics, but the thing vibrated in my hands as it focused automatically. I was startled as I felt something start to whirl inside the casing, but I thought it through. Increased weight and mass, auto-focus scope and gyro stabilization. Nice enough, but I missed the feel of that bolt-action I had in a previous dream.
Looking through the scope, I kept my finger off the trigger guard as I zoomed in on the infantry below. I may have the high ground, but I don't want to alert them unnecessarily. I could see them frantically pointing and firing every which way, but there was nothing there. I aimed in close to the one in the lead when he stopped in his tracks and fell back. There was a blade sticking out of his chest. And as I looked on, they each started to fall one by one until there was only a pair of them left.
Zooming in on the bodies of their fallen comrades revealed more blades, some thin and needle like, others in the more classical ninja star shape. My eyes caught a blur as the two remaining soldiers fell, and I looked through the scope, finally seeing who was taking them down.
Shoulder length black hair, hazel eyes, and form fitting tactical gear in a gray urban camo pattern. Quite a good look for her, especially considering the array of blades sheathed along her forearms and on her web gear. She turned her eyes up and looked directly at me, throwing me a wry smirk. I waved. She flipped me off and started walking down the street away from me. Hello to you too, Archer.
Not exactly the setting I had in mind for her, but she has been on my mind a lot lately. Which is strange considering that I won't even get to her part of the story for quite awhile now, assuming I ever finish my first book. Maybe she's getting impatient. Either way, she's going to have to wait.
I continued into the next building, passing by a few upturned desks and scattered chairs. Beyond that office was a hallway that lead to a pair of elevators. Tempting, but I'd be something of a sitting duck in there. Better to take the stairs on the right.
I had the feeling I was supposed to head to the roof. Makes sense with the gear I was carrying. In addition to my sniper rifle I had a set of binoculars hanging off my hip, a sidearm strapped to my right leg with a tactical flashlight behind it's holster, and my pack held a couple of flash grenades and proximity mines. Then there was the laser. Guess I'll know what to do with that later. I also had a large combat knife tucked into my belt as well.
I stepped as softly as I could, but I wasn't able to keep my footfalls from echoing down the stairwell. I hope nobody heard it, but just in case, I set a mine just inside the door. I set one outside as well. Just in case.
Walking over to the edge of the roof, I looked down to see the main enemy encampment. I wasn't expecting to see every structure sitting atop of wheels or treads. Their whole operation was mechanized. I counted at least thirty tanks and there had to be thousands of foot soldiers down there. Maybe a bit less.
There was one structure that seemed a lot more armored than the others. I sighted it through my scope and it zoomed in. There was a small forest of antennas on the roof. Must have been a command structure or communications array.
I reached back into my pack and pulled out the laser. It slid into the rail underneath the barrel of my rifle and locked in place with a light click. Once I had the structure sighted again, I turned on the laser and clicked my radio twice, the signal for my side to start the fireworks.
I felt it more than I saw it at first. There was something in the air that I first shook off as jitters, but then I noticed an increase in activity on the ground. infantry started forming up, the engines of the tanks started turning, and everything that wasn't bolted down started collapsing into their parent structures as the whole base began to move. All except for a few stationary turrets that started scanning the air overhead.
Crap. The radio was encrypted, but they must have picked up the transmission anyway. All I could do was keep the laser aimed and hope whatever happens happens before something else goes wrong.
Thunder rent the sky overhead. It sounded like a sonic boom, but I couldn't look away from my target just yet. Whatever it was, it didn't concern me as much as the next crash from the stairwell. Someone or something tripped the first mine. It would've collapsed the stairs, but it would've also tipped them off to my location.
As if on cue, one of the turrets below swiveled in my direct and opened fire. I cringed as the heavy rounds struck the windows beneath me, but it couldn't angle itself high enough to hit me. All the same, it just needs one round to go wild while I have to keep the target lit.
There wasn't an explosion as much as it looked like a massive impact, but it sure felt like one with the wind that came a second later. The command track disappeared in a gout of dust and smoke, leaving behind a huge mound of twisted metal inside a crater. I broke off the laser and looked up, seeing a gaping hole in the clouds overheard slowly closing off from the wind. A mass driver. Cute.
My radio started squawking loudly, and a harsh voice started barking out orders. I strained to listen. Then said something I probably shouldn't repeat here. Nobody said anything about nukes. But apparently they just shot one into that crater I helped make, and I only had minutes to evacuate.
Not knowing what else to do, I ran to the opposite side of the roof and jumped, letting go of my rifle. Pick your poison, a nuclear blast or going kersplat on the pavement. Neither seemed particularly pleasant, but I had wanted to try something I had seen in a videogame once.
Drawing my combat knife from it's sheathe, I turned my body and jammed the blade into the side of the building. The speed of my fall nearly had the thing yanked from my hands, but I held tight as it penetrated the glass. Instead of shattering, it made a smooth cut, and I slid down along the building. I was still going pretty fast, even for dream physics.
I got stuck about fifty feet from the ground. The sudden lurch of the stop had popped the knife free, and I kicked away from the building as I resumed my fall. I reached out and grabbed a convenient light pole that promptly slipped from my grasp. I landed flat on my back on top of a deserted car. My sniper rifle had left an impressive dent in the hood.
I rolled off and looked across the street to see an antique cafe racer. It looked similar to the one I had ridden in an earlier dream. I only hoped it was just as fast. I hopped on, turned the throttle, and it roared to life. Not knowing how much time I had left, I went down the street towards the most direct way out of town. And the next time I blinked had me seeing the book case in my bedroom.

Check

2009-12-02T01:19:00.000-08:00

It felt familiar somehow. Yet I can never recall being in a battlefield like this. It looked like some kind of abandoned industrial area. Half demolished storage trailers were strewn about like broken toys. Even in the afternoon sun, I couldn't decipher any of the graffiti sprayed along the buildings and trailers. I just kept crunching the gravel under my boots as I walked along.
There was a dry, chalky scent in the air. I couldn't place it. And the stillness was more than a little eerie. I soon came upon a charred and battered parking garage with a concrete spiral staircase. It was either up or down from there. Something compelled me to go down.
The further I went, the harder it became to see. My footsteps echoed sharply against the walls. So much so that I almost missed the sounds of steps from further up ahead. Eager to see who else might be here, I dashed down as fast as I could.
I stopped upon seeing a ghostly silhouette. I could've sworn I caught a glimpse of white armor, a helmet that was almost crown shaped, and the snakelike pattern of a barbed chain before it vanished in the darkness.
I didn't know where the gun came from, but it was grasped tightly in my hand. A small, snub nosed handgun. As I walked down the last couple of steps I was met with a few sharp cracks accompanied by sparks flashing in the darkness, momentarily revealing who was shooting at me. Nobody I knew. But considering the bits of pulverized concrete flying off the wall a few inches from my face, I guess they meant trouble.
My arm came up. Three shots were met with three flashes as my rounds impacted on my assailants bodies. Whatever this dream was, it wasn't realistic. That, and I had a feeling they were going to "respawn" any second, so I raced into the shadows to get away.
I stopped cold when the place lit up. I had to shield my eyes for a moment, but when they adjusted to the light, I found myself in a hallway of what looked to be a hotel. The dark mahogany paneling on the walls matched the thick carpet, though the art deco lamps placed evenly along the length of the hall felt a little out of place. But not as much as myself.
I walked a few steps down, just looking around at nothing. A crackle of a doorknob caught my ear, and a black mass slid out of the door up ahead to my left. It was followed by another figure in white armor, this one looking more like a samurai or knight. It shouted something to whatever was cloaked in black, which took off down the hall as the "knight" ran up to me.
It swung a punch which I was able to deflect before giving a swift kick, knocking it away. It then drew what I immediately recognized as a needle gun and opened fire. I crouched low and shielded myself with my left arm, but it ran after it's companion after that first barrage. I got up to chase, but the needles sticking out from the wall caught my attention.
They were slender white blades with stylized pommels. I grasped the first three at the top and pulled them out of the wall. Chess pieces. A queen, a king, and a knight. They were white as well, which was in keeping with the theme I was seeing so far. I reached back and tucked them into my belt before taking up my gun and giving chase.
I caught up to them at the lobby. It was sumptuously decorated, and as ostentatious as to be tacky. But the overstuffed chairs and ornate coffee tables made for decent cover as the knight opened up with the needle gun once again. I ducked low, and aimed for his boots under a chair. A few shots had him rolling to the side, and he fired once more from a different angle. I took another shot that barely nicked his shoulder plate before my weapon clicked empty. Just as his did.
I drew one of the blades from my belt and lunged. My best chance to finish this was to thrust it between his plates, but he wouldn't give me a chance, parrying with his gauntlets. When I had an opening, I gave him a sidekick that sent him falling back over a chair. That was when I pounced, thrusting the needle up against his throat. And held it there.
The black figure he was protecting came up. It was a woman in a black dress and cloak, complete with a hood and veil that covered everything except her dark eyes. As I stood there, posed to kill her guardian, she just stared at me. She didn't say a word, nor did she make any other move other than to blink when needed.
When I opened my eyes, I felt a sore stiffness in my neck. I knew it wouldn't last too long, but I would probably be feeling it for most of the day. And I was still wondering what was up with that particular dream. The first portion almost felt like a level in a shooter, probably Half-life 2. The second half in the hotel could've been something I've seen in Thief II, or a fan mission. As to the knight and his masked companion, I've no idea what they were about. I just know that, the next time I'm playing chess, I'll be thinking about dark eyes and white knights.

Reserve The Right To Refuse Service

2009-10-31T11:32:00.000-07:00

I am completely at a loss as to what may have prompted this dream. Although now that I think about it, it might have to do with a certain up coming holiday. And I don't mean Halloween. I guess you'll see when I get to it, but this dream felt more than a little jumbled.
I was walking around with family at night, which is strange in and of itself. Not so strange, my sister found a shop full of knick-knacks and felt compelled to browse. I figured I should follow along to keep her out of trouble.
It was surprisingly busy for how dark it seemed outside. There were a number of people browsing around and shopping. The shelves were stocked with small items, figurines and such, and nothing of any real value. Still, I picked up one or two things for a glance but for the life of me can't remember what they were. I also can't remember any of the faces of the people around. Now that I think about it, they all seemed a little blurred. Except for one face that even now stands out clearly in my mind.
Her hair was a blond that was brilliant without being ostentatious. Her piercing blue eyes stared at me from across the room as she stood by a cash register. I wasn't a thief or anything in this dream, which made her scrutiny all the more puzzling. Her eyes followed me around the room. And as I approached her, she settled into a defensive stance. A sound like a crackle of wooden blocks falling made me turn my head away from her for a second. That was when she struck. I felt it coming more than I saw it and swatted her arm aside. She moved forward throwing her other fist out, and I blocked again, pressing her arm as I stepped forward and behind her. I turned back around, and she was already on the offensive again. The anger in her eyes almost had a physical pressure, pressing along with her attacks.
I jumped back a few steps, lowered my stance, and brought my right hand up in a pose my brother would easily recognize as my mongoose style. She let loose with a flurry of strikes, and I batted them aside waiting for the right moment when she was caught up in her speed. My arm wrapped around hers and I guided her body with mine, turning her around back towards the register. I unwound my arm from hers and gave her a firm push, sending her stumbling back to where she started. I was chuckling. This was actually rather fun. She was still fuming. she pointed firmly towards the door and I gave a curt nod, leaving the shop. There was a man standing by the exit, someone about as tall as myself, although his face was blurred like everyone else's. I got the feeling he was highly amused at the fight, and something gave me the impression he was the girl's father. No idea where that thought came from. I just stepped out the door.
It was still dark outside. In the faint moonlight, I could see that the surrounding buildings were of the pueblo style, and it looked like a kind of market place. There was even a sizeable dining area with tables and benches. Yet the whole place was empty, not a soul around save for the shop behind me. I kept walking.
Just beyond the tables was a row of two long buildings, drastically different in architectural style. They looked like the wing of a school complex, rather like Bishop Amat High School. Except not. There was a grassy strip in between the buildings, and I followed this down towards a street. The sky started to lighten up, but became overcast as clouds and fog rolled in.
The grass lead to a broad swatch along the street corner, and as I approached a pair of school children came out from the fog, running and playing around. Their faces were blurred just like the people in the shop. Although this felt a little creepy. I slowly backed away and entered one of the buildings through a conveniently placed door.
Inside looked almost exactly like a school. There was a trophy case just inside the entrance surrounded by a dark wood paneling. I walked up to find a long narrow hallway lined on both sides by lockers and entrances to classrooms. The lights overhead weren't on, but there was just enough illumination to see the doors at the end of the hall. It took only a minute to walk down there, and I emerged from those doors practically back where I had started.
The market place was decked out with skulls and black streamers. It was populated by a crowd in costume. Skull masks. Calaveras. It was the day of the dead. There was a long table not to far away by a dead tree covered in streamers. A number of people were seated there, and I got the sense that they were family. Makes sense. They were speaking spanish and I couldn't understand a word. Their faces were blurred as well.
I walked over, took a seat at the head of the table, and then I was woken up by the sounds of the morning.

Hm.

2009-10-13T12:38:00.000-07:00

This was a strange one. I was in my backyard of my old house. While it was not unusual for me to have a machete while doing yard work, it was odd that I was using one to carve out a bokken from a branch. Once finished, I set aside the metal blade for the wooden one and made a few cuts with it.
My eyes caught sight of a strange aircraft overhead. It was shaped like an arrowhead with twin turbofan engines in the middle of the hull directed downward and the rest of the body being merely a frame and an open cockpit in the middle. It landed between the garage and the patio, it's pilot jumping out of his weird aircraft to enter the house through the backdoor. So of course I followed.
My bokken disappeared as I entered, and I strangely found myself in the kitchen I have at the place I'm staying at now. Along with the big orange form of Benjamin J. Grimm. The Ever Lovin' Blue-eyed Thing himself. Which is strange since I'm not a Fantastic Four fan.
After listening to him gripe for a minute, I continued on through the kitchen to emerge in a darkened room to see another member of the Fantastic Four, the Invisible Woman, doing battle with an armored foe. Not doctor doom, this was some kind of rust orange knight. Her force fields were illuminated with each blow, revealing themselves to be in an ornate shield shape. She seemed to be doing well until her foe teleported behind her. Reaching out a bronzed gauntlet, he touched the back of her neck and she fainted dead away.
Perhaps the most bizarre part of this dream, the armored warrior took off his helmet, revealing a tuft of black hair behind the collar. A head popped up, and a diminutive man jumped out, followed by another. Apparently he stood on this friend's shoulders in order to fill out the armor. They ran off in search of a treasure that would apparently restore their voices, although I'm at a loss to explain how I knew this.
The "camera" then floated through a barred window and outside to a darkened field. It was night, and I soon found myself in the middle of a strange zoo, with different animals both inside and out of the cages. There was a dog looking up at me with a strange smile, as well as a monkey hanging off a branch some distance to my right. Not knowing what else to do, I started slowly backing away and took a path to my left to get out of there.
As I walked down the path, a ghostly figure emerged from the darkness. As it drew closer, it was revealed to be a young woman in jeans and an unusual white sweater. I thought it was sleeveless at first, but rather the sleeves had a zipper going lengthwise which she had undone, revealing particularly skinny arms. I thought of Abigail Whistler in the latest Blade movie. Different outfit, but the same kind of sleeves.
Her hair was a dark brown that appeared almost black in this darkness. There was something behind her brown eyes. Picture a spotlight with a cloak thrown over it. Even though the cloak blots out most of the light, you can tell it would be blinding to look directly at it without it. That's what it felt like to look in her eyes.
I was wondering what a girl like her was doing in a place like this, and in reply to my thoughts, she said she was looking for a gyrfalcon. Unusual, since I didn't notice a falconer's glove on her arm, but I didn't question it. I walked on, and she stepped up next to me, following along. I don't recall asking her anything, but in due course I found out that she was taking classes at the local college. Something she wasn't too enthusiastic about as it was her mother's idea.
As we were walking on, I had the strongest urge to hold her hand, but as we've just met that would've been much too forward. But again, as if in reply to my thoughts, she threaded her arm around mine. The sky started to lighten in a morning twilight. Before long, it was a light blue, the day bringing out the orange in the leaves overhead and on the ground. The path lead through a small patch of trees and in between two gray apartment buildings.
It lead up a hill and as we climbed, I commented that she reminded me of someone. She did feel eerily familiar, even her smile, but she didn't reply. Instead, she said she was due at an engagement party. Again, her mother's idea, as was the marriage. I got the feeling she'd rather not go through with it. I said as much, and she said that she must "play her role". An odd thing to say, but I guess dreams are never normal.
There was a strong tension between us. I don't want to say sexual tension, although I'll admit, she was certainly more attractive than most of my dream girls. It felt like there was a lot left unsaid between us. Things that both of us knew without saying, should address, but are hesitant to do so. It felt like that almost from the beginning, and even moreso now with her arm in mine.
I blinked, and I suddenly found myself seated next to her on a couch in what appeared to be a hotel room. We weren't alone, there seemed to be a kind of party going on. People were talking, there were drinks in hand, and she looked rather alone. Someone had said she needed a snack, so I rose from my seat to get her something. There was an oven in the wall, and as I opened it, I took out a few bottles, closed it up, and turned it on before the absurdity dawned on me.
She seemed to have gotten impatient with the party. She grabbed my arm and pulled. The next thing I knew, we were standing in the middle of the street at the top of a hill. She walked on, and I followed, watching the sky darken overhead. I recognized this street. As we kept going, I knew we were going to find the mall, and she lead me down into the parking garage. The orange lights were on, but instead of parking spaces, I found a police station populated with all kinds of unusual people and men in uniform leading them to and fro.
As we walked on, she seemed to wither before me. She felt more frail, her hair whitened, and yet her face still kept some youthfulness, particularly in her eyes. At last, she stopped before a desk, took a seat, and said she had one last thing for me. She took a pen in hand and started writing on a plain sheet of paper left there.
A slight burning sensation in my chest had me gasping for breath. I had to stifle the urge to upchuck as I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. Waking up via acid reflux is not a pleasant sensation.
The first part of the dream I have no explanation for. Although yesterday, I did run into an old acquaintance of mine. She was heading towards the rail station, and I took the opportunity to catch up with her on the way. That's most likely where my subconscious got the idea of me escorting a lady. Except her eyes were green, not brown, and we aren't that close. I have her sister's number, something she reminded me of yesterday, but I rarely use it.
And we never did find that falcon.

Deja Vu All Over Again

2009-10-03T02:23:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I've had one of my soldier dreams. I should have known that playing Halo 3:ODST would bring them back up again. This game actually reminds me of an earlier dream I had, except instead of minotaurs, ODST has ape like creatures called brutes. And I'll take a drop pod over a free fall any day.
It felt like one of my usual walkabouts, Glendale at night. Right in the alleyway behind my usual coffee shop, specifically. It leads off into some shops and restaurants, though quite a few of them have closed down thanks to the economy. My boots ground little bits of gravel into the concrete as I walked down the middle of the alley. The moon overhead gave plenty of light, but none of the electrics seem to be functioning as shadows enveloped the nooks and crannies in either side. Perfect for an ambush, but I'm keeping my eyes and my ears open.
I heard an animal like snarl up ahead and dove into one of those shadows, pressing myself against the wall. Stealing another glance into my hiding spot, I inched my way deeper and crouched between the wall and a ramp leading to a delivery entrance for a shop. I've no idea where the sub-machine gun came from, but I was staring along the suppressor waiting for a target. Slow, steady breaths. Twenty seconds later and I was starting to wonder if I had imagined it (can one imagine in a dream? I think so, oddly enough O_o). The sight of a furry paw holding a plasma rifle belied that thought, and I held my breath waiting to see if it would react.
As the creature walked on by, I listened and waited to see if it was alone before slowly creeping my way towards the corner. A quick glance around didn't reveal any followers. I emerged from my hiding spot and followed the creature. My gun went up as it stood straighter, slinging it's weapons across it's back. It continued down the alley, and I crept up behind it as quietly as I could. Then I gave it a solid buttstroke to the back of it's neck. For such a large, strong creature, it has surprisingly weak vertebrae.
Unlike in the game, it went down with an audible thump that blew up a sizeable cloud of dust, causing a loose piece of cardboard to tumble into the air. I swung my weapon around, but there didn't seem to be any other enemies in the area. Yet I kept alert as I walked back down the alley.
It opened into a small courtyard with a few short sets of stairs leading down towards the street and up towards the parking garage. And sitting on a bench right in the middle of it all was a statue of Benjamin Franklin. A curious place to find him, not as unusual as the brass pigeon feet atop the bench to his left. I've always wondered what happened to those birds. Was it an accident, or was some vandal feeling crazy one night? Probably the latter.
A sharp yelp caught my attention from the left. A troop of grunts, small simian like creatures wearing methane tanks that had a shape reminiscent of snails, and come around the corner, their leader spotting me. I drew the pistol from my left hip and aimed directly for the head. Three shots later had three of them on the ground. The fourth opened up with his needler weapon on full blast. I dove behind a planter, the needles locking onto Ben. He blew up in a crystalline crash and a puff of pink smoke as the needles exploded. He was avenged with another headshot a second later.
I checked the bodies to make sure, and scavenged a few plasma grenades while I was at it. They would help if I ran into some more heavily armored brutes. Walking on past an abandoned cafe, I made it to the main street. I had expected burning hulks of cars and charred debris with bodies strewn all over the place. That just made the emptiness all the more ominous. Not even an abandoned car in sight. Just dark buildings bathed in moonlight.
The crosswalk was usually lit, kind of a novelty but such things are expected in this town. And beyond that was the sculpture fountain in front of an office building that housed a few restaurants. The Olive Garden held some particularly fond memories for me. Other memories, not so fondly remembered, came to mind as well. As long ago as that kiss was, I could've lived without it. I pressed my hand against the window looking at that booth, remembering a face I would've preferred to have seen sitting across from me. And then I noticed the green glow and the loud whine if a charging plasma weapon.
Falling to my knees, I rolled to the side just as the window and a part of the floor had vaporized, leaving behind a molten slag around the edges. I barely had enough time to scramble to my feet and jump away as a huge blade came down on me. The monstrosity before me looked almost like an armored knight with a razored shield. Except instead of a sword or lance, it carried a plasma cannon mounted on it's arm. And the armor housed a colony of eel like worms, joined together with only one purpose. Destruction.
For a moment, I hesitated. The magnum had enough punch to take it down, but I'll need a few clear shots. Something the Hunter wasn't about to give me. If I strayed too far, I'd be an easy shot for that plasma cannon. But if I got too close, it'd cut me in half with that shield. That limits my options. So I took my pistol in my right hand and primed a plasma grenade in my left. It's blue glow lit up the night around us, and the Hunter hunkered down preparing to charge. Let's dance.
I sidestepped as it ran forward, swinging it's shield in an uppercut. I threw the grenade, watching it adhere to the exposed orange flesh of the eels. The Hunter swung it's other arm around to smack me with the cannon, and I jumped back letting loose a few shots from the magnum. My bullets pinged against it's armor, but the grenade blew with a gout of blue flame. The Hunter lurched with the explosion, but didn't fall.
It charged me once again, this time knocking me back a few yards. I could feel my ribs bruise with the impact but I didn't have any time to dwell on them as it opened fire with it's cannon. I fell back into the fountain as the green plasma bolts flew overhead. I wish I had planned that, but it worked for the moment. Vaulting back over to the floor, I ran right up to it, dodging it's next blow, and primed another plasma grenade. I fired a shot at it's exposed "neck" and it whirled, nearly decapitating me with the shield. I shoved my fist right through the body of worm-like creatures and released the grenade. As it flailed around, it knocked me back through the window of the restaurant, leaving a crack in my visor through which I saw it collapse with another burst of flame. This time, it didn't move again.
Walking back through the window, I nudged the charred armor with the nose of my SMG. It was dead alright. I was down a few rounds on the magnum, and I was out of grenades. It would be a lot harder to take down another one. And seeing another green glow off in the distance I remembered. Hunters always travel in pairs.
I let out a long burst from my SMG, hoping to deter it from firing. No luck. The plasma bolt washed over my arm, throwing me around with the impact. My gun was slagged along with my hand and a part of my arm. Oddly, it didn't hurt. But I didn't have time to dwell on it as another green glow caught my eyes. I picked myself up and shielded myself with it's defeated partner.
I could hear it edge closer, the pounding of it's feet punctuated by the shuffling of it's armor plates. I took up the magnum in my let hand. Without any grenades, this is going to call for some fancy footwork. Stepping up from my hiding spot, I ran, closing the distance with the Hunter. I fired a shot to it's faceplate and it slammed it's shield down to swat at me. I dodged clumsily, but managed to get behind it, shooting at it's exposed flesh. I got a few shots in before my pistol clicked, empty. Then I ran behind a pillar for cover.
A plasma bolt struck my hiding spot, raining debris upon my head. I was trying to figure out how to reload one handed when the sharp crack of a rifle broke the air. The sound was repeated, and I heard the crash of metal as the Hunter hit the ground hard. A glance around confirmed that it was indeed down, and I looked around to see where the help had come from.
Movement from a far rooftop had caught my eye, and a dark figure with a sniper rifle was waving. I couldn't tell if it was anyone I knew from this distance. But I knew how to get up there. I ran back across the street, and up the stairs of the parking garage. It was a simple jump from the third level, but I haven't tried it with one arm. Thankfully, I was still able to grab onto the railing and pull myself up. Grasping the lower rung of the fire escape was more challenging.
I had to swing my legs up against the wall awkwardly to make it, but I was able to make my way up to the edge of the roof. A firm hand grabbed the straps on my suit and tugged, helping me the rest of the way. I collapsed onto the rooftop, gazing at a pair of combat boots when the identifier tag for my helper lit up on my HUD. Yet before I could read it, or look at his face, I blinked my eyes with the faint sunlight coming in through my bedroom curtains.
Not that I mind getting down and dirty with the fighting, but I'm usually the one with the sniper rifle. What's up with that?

Eb and Flow

2009-09-22T01:15:00.000-07:00

I've been here before. This whole place seemed familiar, but I've only been to a beach resort once in Hawaii. It was fun to stay for a week, but not the kind of place I'd frequent if given the means. Yet here I was once again. There was this rocky overhang on the path that wound around an artificial cove. In Hawaii, it was just a bubble of volcanic rock with a small tunnel carved out of it, as well as a portion of the side sliced off to provide a view of the resort through a waterfall. In my dream, however, it opened up into a cave.
I walked in, noticing that it was brightly lit in spite of a lack of light sources. The cave also seemed to be made of a non-igneous type, like limestone. Unusual for this part of the island. There were several paths leading deeper into the earth, and one leading off to the side that might have reached the surface. Hearing a commotion, I went down that way.
As I walked down the tunnel, I started to notice some spider webs along the sides and ceiling. It got thicker the deeper I went. Finally, it halted at a small room that opened up along the bottom, leading into the water. I could see the sun glistening from under the walls. Strangely enough, my brother was there, playing among the webs. I looked up and noticed a few black spiders with a bright red hourglass on the thorax. With that, I grabbed him by the arm and forcefully shoved him out, slapping one of the arachnids off his shoulder.
Then a solid weight settled onto my shoulders. A large piece of webbing landed right on top of me, along with a small army of the spiders. I swung my arms to shake them off, but more kept coming, threads shooting out from the walls for them to climb on towards me. I reached to my side and a sword appeared out of nowhere. I grabbed it, cutting at the threads, but they just kept coming.
When I was completely enveloped, there was darkness. Only to be replaced by the rays of the sun upon opening my eyes. I was on the beach, and was dimly aware of it being a dream. I could see my brother and my family off to the side, playing in the surf. The beach seemed to be parallel to another, as if it were part of a strait, or it could've been another island for all I knew.
There was a city on the other side past the beach. I could see a few skyscrapers gleaming in the sun, and there were a few boats floating between there and were I was. And somehow, I became aware of a presence on the other side of that strait. I didn't know who, what, or why, but it felt like someone I loved was in danger, just as my brother was earlier. Except he was safe with the rest of my family.
Even so, this feeling was so strong, I dove into the water and started swimming. Only to be pushed back to shore by a strong current. I kept swimming, pressing on as hard as I could when the waves started rising, their frequency increasing. The further I got, the stronger and more violent they became in an attempt to toss me back. I struggled onward, but could hardly make any progress. The water swelled over my head and crashed down, forcing me under. I tried to swim under, but when I came up for air, the waves swept me right back again.
I didn't give up. Just when it seemed I had made some progress towards the open water, another wave sent me under, and the current kept me there, tossing me around as if I were in a rock tumbler. I was almost out of strength, almost out of air. And as I struggled towards the surface, my lungs gave out on me. It was then that I had awakened, after only a couple of hours of sleep.

The following night, I was kept up by my little brother who needed to have a chat. I figured my dreams might involve another trip down memory lane through high school, but instead I was back at the beach. Or rather a different beach. This one had a wide blue stretch of ocean in front and a wide continent behind it. It wasn't any place I've been to before, but from the air and the sun, it was definitely California. What's more, there were a bunch of people around, lounging about on the beach, or in the waves. There were even a flock of surfers there was well.
It seemed like a nice enough day for a swim, so I dove right in. And just like the previous night, I started to get buffeted. The water rose higher, and hit hard. This time, however, I was able to keep my head up. I was never much of a swimmer, but unlike last night, I was doing some pretty decent body surfing. It felt pretty calm, particularly since I didn't feel that same sense of urgency as last time. It almost felt like I had tamed the waves when my thoughts started dwelling on the previous dream. After coasting back into the shore, I walked up the beach and picked a good spot to look things over. Whoever I was after last night, they weren't here. I guess that'll be a mystery for another night. I woke up, checked the time on my phone, and rolled right over. I was only asleep for about an hour and a half. -_-

A Raid on the Past

2009-08-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

I was up most of the night talking to a new acquaintance. I probably could've kept talking with her until dawn. That was certainly the case with her. Just once again proving my maxim that the best girls are either taken or hundreds of miles away. There was one hiccup in our conversation after I had mentioned my father. I didn't elaborate, and thankfully she didn't press the issue. I wish I could say the same of my subconscious.
Not long after I hit the pillow, around 3:47am, I was seeing a cloudy gray sky through the window of a car. My mother and aunts were in the other seats, and we came upon the cul-de-sac that we used to live in. And there was my old house, looking much the worse for wear.
At one word from my mother we ran out of the car. My aunts and mother ran into the house, remarking at it's decrepit state. I had another target. I found the side door to the garage and picked the lock. The interior was dark and dusty. The faint lights overhead did little to help me see my way, but I saw a box on the broad platform we had at the back of the garage.
I flipped the top open and I saw my old electronic keyboard. This was something to hang on to. I pulled the box down and kept looking around. My aunt came up behind me to retrieve the keyboard and she told me to look for my trumpet. Looking around, I couldn't find the case, although did see a euphonium hanging on the wall.
The room brightened up suddenly, and out of nowhere came a bunch of little kids running around and playing. They were even outside and somehow I knew they were my father's. I ignored them, getting back to the search. I needed to grab anything of value while I still could. This wasn't my home anymore, and until I find one I'll need to hang on to whatever I can.
I opened a trunk and found a bunch of odds and ends. Mainly ancient, rusted thick iron tools. Laying on top of these was a pack of machetes, folded up in wax paper. I picked up a blade and one side was engraved with the mexican eagle, a snake in it's talon. As much as I love blades, I didn't care much for these. They were the first I handled, and a preferred tool for yard work. But these particular blades felt like the tools of a slave. I would be happy to leave the behind.
I closed the trunk and rose to my feet. I hadn't noticed before, but the garage door was open with what looked like a setting for a birthday party beyond. I looked over the cake and party favors. It was probably for the kids that were running around outside.
I walked back out of the garage into the backyard. This place hadn't changed much, the grass was still green and vibrant, the thorn bush at the door was still growing out of control. And the patio seemed as smudged and dirty as it did when I left. A little boy ran into me from the side. I looked down at him and our eyes met. He kind of reminded me of myself when I was younger. He ran off towards an adult that might have been my father and I awoke to the sounds of the TV from the living room.
I've left homes before. That one held more memories than most, some of which I've lost. I try my best to hang onto the ones that matter. I had to check soon after I got up, but I still have my trumpet. The keyboard is in storage.

The Princess Is In Another Castle

2009-08-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

There wasn't really a princess in my dream, but I'm old enough to remember the 8-bit generation. And some parts of this dream really do remind me of those classic Mario games. Anyways, I was up until 5 am last night with a bad case of acid reflux. I should probably see the doctor about that, I might have had a decent night's sleep otherwise, but it took awhile for me to nod off.
The first thing I remember seeing is the road. I was on a motorcycle, a black cafe racer, winding in and out of traffic. The asphalt similarly winded through hills covered in dry grass, giving them a gilded look that was accentuated by the sun setting near the road's end on the horizon. Despite the speed at which I was careening around trucks and cars, I was feeling very calm, very peaceful. As if I was in my element and nothing can touch me.
Soon, I had left the traffic behind me, and the road stretched on relatively straight towards the setting sun, glowing a fiery orange in the distance. It was almost gone, barely a sliver peeping above the horizon, yet it's light still illuminated the area brightly without it being blinding to look at. Then I heard her voice.
I don't know who it belonged to, or where it came from. I didn't have a radio on me, there wasn't a passenger, or anyone else on the road at that time. But a female voice spoke as if narrating my dream. It came from everywhere and nowhere. I can't remember exactly what she said, but it was something like. "I've waited too long. I've saved myself for a reason I can't remember. It's not worth it any more. Next time, I'll give him everything."
Those words shattered the peace I had felt up to that point. I felt a jolt of sheer panic, nearly losing control of the bike before steadying myself. I could feel my heart crack with those words, but I steeled myself. Whatever happens next, I must be ready for it.
I wasn't ready for what happened next. I rode on until night fell, and the road ended in front of a stereotypical stone castle, with towers framing the front gate. It looked like a casting call for the next harry potter movie. A bunch of high schoolers in capes and uniforms swarmed in and out of the gates. And as I entered, many were walking down the halls toward what looked like classrooms.
I hadn't noticed at the time, but I know where this part of the dream comes from. On a lark, I had went to see a midnight showing of the latest harry potter flick with my sister. The entry room of the castle looked just like the entrance to the movie theater. Which explains all the cosplayers. Except where the concession stand was, there were a quartet of large wooden doors with velvet ropes stretched across them.
I took the hall to my right and peeked into a few classes. The first one, much to my surprise, had my old religion teacher, guiding the class in the basics of fortune telling. I think I know where that came from as well.
I was notorious in my religion class for not paying attention. It was when I was going through my angsty agnostic phase, and I cared little for the class. Still, it wasn't for lack of trying. She wanted the class to read a passage from the old testament together, but I got bored and skipped ahead, after which I stared out the window or doodled or something. Of course, that caught her attention, and she told me to open my bible and read along with the rest of the class. In the discussion afterward, she had mixed up the interpretations of the dreams and I had corrected her. She still gave me an F for that day.
I walked further along the corridor, which was lined along the ceiling and walls with a dark wood, and at the end, hit a trap door. I don't remember falling, it was more like I was teleported into a pitch black cellar. I felt a moistness in the air, it definitely felt like I was underground.
I crept along, using my hand against the wall to guide me to a passageway lined on both sides by pistons, which were illuminated in the darkness by intermittent flashes of spark and flame from beyond them. Their steel joints would jut out into the corridor with each pulse, creating a gauntlet before me.
I crouched low and broke out into a sprint, using small quick steps to avoid being hit. I had reached the end when a gout of flame burst from my left side, and I leaped over to the right to avoid it, landing on a type of flat cart. Reaching up along it, my hands grasped a set of handlebars like on my bike earlier when a motor rumbled to life beneath me. I barely had time to register this in my mind when it surged forward, and I found myself going headlong into another dark tunnel along with it.
I tried to steady it with the handlebars, bit it was still a wild ride. The tunnel opened up into a small dimly lit room, and I turned as hard as I could to avoid the wall up ahead. I could feel the underside of the cart scrape it as I pulled it around in a tight turn.
I had to stand, if only to regain my bearings. The air was a lot cooler here, and moist. I saw a faint glow coming from another running perpendicular to the one I had just left. And from there came a low grumbling sound, as if from an immense animal. At first, I thought it was an echo, but then I realized the sounds were coming from multiple mouths. In my mind, I envisioned the guardian of the underworld, Cerberus. My next challenge, perhaps?
I climbed onto the cart once more and grasped the handle bars firmly. I've always wanted to see if I was a match for a legend. Defeating such a beast sounded like fun. I opened up the throttle and the cart streamed into the tunnel. The glow started to get brighter. As I sped along, the right wall of the tunnel opened up to reveal a river of a bright amber liquid, swiftly flowing in an underground cavern.
I suddenly lost control of my vehicle and it gave a great lurch, flying out to the river taking me along with it. It skipped along the surface like a stone flung by a child. After the third skip, I jumped off onto the bank of the river before the cart started to sink. Despite the swiftness of the liquid, my ride sunk slowly, as if in molasses. Glad I wasn't going down along with it.
I followed the river upstream, and it led to some stone steps, above which were a set of four wooden doors. One opened up, and a fat bald guy in a starry wizard's costume came out. Looking beyond him showed the doors to be the same ones I've seen earlier. I came full circle.
He waddled past me, down towards the river and out of sight. I walked up, and to my left was another large wooden door with a thick red carpet leading up to it. My feet sank an inch into it as I walked up to the door. It had a large brass ring that was weathered with age. It still felt pretty solid as I hefted it and gave the door a tug. As it slowly opened, so did my eyes, and I found myself in bed with a very stiff neck.
I wonder what Tex would think of this.

Fighting Old Battles

2009-07-25T20:52:00.000-07:00

I was in some kind of tall narrow maze. I don't know how or why I was in there, but the walls and ceiling were made of a gray stone. What's more, it was wet in some parts, with moss growing over and between the individual stones. There were also some patches worn away along the top of the maze, allowing for sunlight to shine through, enough to illuminate the whole path. The floor was a soft clay like earth.
Eventually, I made my way to a brown archway. There was a path leading beyond it, but something on the wall glistened, beckoning me over. A few of the stones had an almost liquid sheen that faded in and out of its' surface. When I touched it, it felt like a kind of plastic film before it phased back into the rock. It seemed to undulate like a piece of gelatin.
I remember reading in a tutorial for DromEd that one should build around the coordinates 0,0,0. And that anomalies may develop if it was left open. But this is a dream, not a level editor for Thief II. Still, I'm going to keep this in mind for a stage if I ever get the hang of the program.
Turning around, I suddenly found myself elsewhere. I was in a hallway of a hospital type building. The walls could've been white once upon a time, but they've been yellowed by age. The yellow parquet flooring squeaked underfoot as I entered a doorway into a white room with pipes leading around the walls and into the floor.
I was startled by a sudden shuffling behind me. Passing by in the hall were a number of men in blue jumpsuits, the same kind of clothing I found myself in when I came here. I felt like asking, but somehow I knew the answer already. They were inmates. And whatever this place was, I was a prisoner as well.
That revelation didn't have much of an effect on me. I grabbed a nearby cart and started heading to the laundry room with it. And that's where this dream started to get really weird. I was passing by a window in the hallway when a storm swirled outside. A white tornado came up and tore the window from it's pane, the glass and wood disappearing into the vortex, leaving behind a gaping hole in the wall.
There was a bright white light emanating from the eye of the storm, and from there emerged someone that looked like she was straight out of a kung-fu movie. Her black outfit had a floral print on it, with dark green trousers underneath. Dreams fade, and I can't remember her face (seriously, why this part of the dream escapes my memory more than the rest is something I can't understand), but she seemed happy to see me. I was certainly happy to see her.
She grasped my arm, pulling me from the building, and threw me over to a nearby, grassy hilltop. I landed lightly on my feet and she walked up beside me, the storm dissipating behind her. As soon as I thanked her, she took my hand and started off in a run, saying there was somewhere we had to be.
The elation I felt upon leaving that place was quickly replaced with disquiet and dread. As we ran on, the ground was scorched in some places with columns of smoke rising in the distance. Eventually, we came to an area fenced off with barbed wire and chain link. The fence was half collapsed, but beyond were a number of smoldering tents and dead bodies were strewn about everywhere.
She released my hand and gripped the fence hard. The last words she uttered before disappearing was "They'll pay". I had no idea who they were, but I can certainly understand her anguish. I felt it in myself before a sudden awareness took it's place. Looking past a hill to my left, I saw a large white castle cast in an orange glow from the sunset. That was my next destination.
I passed through the gate and into a large chamber holding a pair of wide stairs that led to an upper level. I was about to ascend when the gate closed behind me, trapping me in. Looking back, I caught a glimpse of an armored figure running by, dragging a long polearm along the bars. The clanging rang throughout the castle, indeed, it seemed to come from everywhere at once. The shape of the weapon immediately brought to mind the legend of the Green Knight.
A voice called my name and I looked up to see my sister descending the stairs. She was carrying a bundle in her arms that I knew to be my little brother. In this dream, he was only a baby still. She had a frightened look on her face. What's more, the sounds of the figure before grew louder. I pointed into the hallway between the stairways and told her to run. As soon as she was gone, I ran up the stairs to face whatever was chasing her.
To my right, I could still see the sun had a way to go before setting. The whole place was bathed in orange light and shadow. Not the best conditions for a fight, but one perhaps I could use to my advantage. When I got to the top, I heard footsteps. I followed them, and looked down the second stairway to see someone charging up the steps polearm in hand. Without the armor on, I could plainly see who it was.
I lowered my stance, grasping the weapon from it's hilt as it swung overhead. Using his speed and mass against him, I rolled back, kicking him up and over with my legs. He went flying, and I retained possession of the weapon. In the past, his anger had made him an ogre in my mind, with all the strength and rage of a giant. A concept that my subconscious seems to have held onto. My father was never this tall, or beefed up, but despite the imposing figure before me I felt no fear. I was way past fear.
I dropped the weapon and ran towards him, my fist readied at my side for the first blow. He jumped into the air, blocking out the sun as he fell towards me, readying a strike of his own. He missed. Grasping his arm, I flung him to the ground and started pummeling him with my fist, keeping him restrained with my other hand. He was starting to wriggle free from my grasp when the sound of an opening door met my ears, and I turned my head around to see who had arrived.
I turned my head around on my pillow to see my aunt coming out of the bathroom. My shoulders strained in protest at the sudden shift in position. And by that time, I was too awake to go back to sleep. This last dream seemed more vivid than others. And a lot more jumbled. I'm tempted to ask someone, but then I already know I'm crazy. As to the girl, I don't know if she's the same one I've been dreaming about before, but if I ever remember, I wouldn't be too surprised if she were.

A Strange Sort Of Walkabout

2009-07-19T15:07:00.000-07:00

Sleep never comes easy for me. It's been more difficult as of late with family staying over. Especially since I'm left to the couch, which isn't a foldout one. I tossed and turned for a few hours before falling asleep. Maybe the heat had something to do with the dream.
The first thing I remember was walking along a path cut through a vast landscape of short dry grass stretching out for miles. There were some sparse hills as well, though they weren't very tall. I walked along this path for awhile before I came to a white three story house. Looking down the path, there were three or four others just like it, before the path curved over to the right.
I was looking for someone. I've no idea who, but I had an image of someone in my mind which has since faded. She lived in one of the houses, I didn't know which. But somehow as I passed them, I knew she wasn't there.
The path led to a park, where the grass was green and a pair of trees shaded some tables. It continued up a hill to a small parking lot. Passing through, I came up to an industrial area, with large metal warehouses and factories lining the streets. There was a chevron gas station alongside one of them, and the thought came to my mind that she works at a chevron, but this wasn't it. It was closed anyways.
As I walked further along the street, the scenery changed from heavy industry to one made up of smallish shops, like in a neighborhood. The next intersection has another gas station, again a chevron. This was the one she worked at, though how I knew, I had no idea.
Walking in, I made a pass around the candy bar rack and picked out a pack of gum. There was no one behind the counter, but as I approached, a small asian guy came out from a back room to ring up my purchase. He looked kind of like Mako. Sounded like him too. I had thought to ask, but looking around, I knew she wasn't there. And it was time to move on.
I figured I should make my way back to the houses, I might perhaps see her on the way there. I walked back the way I came, but as I passed the first gas station, I seemed to have gotten a little lost. I soon came upon a school that reminded me of Glendale Community College with how the buildings were arranged on the hill, but they had the mascot and letters of USC emblazoned on them. George Lucas went to USC film school. I wondered why that thought came to mind right then.
There were a lot of students coming to and fro and around the buildings. Some of them were going up and down a path to the left. Looking on, it seemed like it would lead back past the park. And it did, but it first lead to a large gully or ravine. I'm surprised I didn't notice it before, but it ran parallel to the park and connected to the path.
As I stepped into the shadows, I became aware of voices jabbering in some indecipherable tongue. I felt a brief stab of panic when I realized they were speaking spanish, and I had woken up to the sounds of my relatives walking past me into the kitchen. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, and I did for a few minutes. Though I didn't dream, all I accomplished was to put my arm to sleep. Once I got some feeling back, I lay there until the bathroom was free. A cold shower felt great in this heat.

A bit late on the updates.

2009-06-04T20:43:00.000-07:00

But I've had a lot on my mind, and dreams are hard enough to remember as it is. Still, there are a few that still ring in my mind. Some not so clear, others I can stand to forget.
To start off with, the first night I spent in Hawaii, I immediately called dibs on the fold out bed in the living room, and drifted blissfully off to sleep in solitary peace. I don't remember much of that dream, except that it started off like a camera panning down through a kind of a futuristic city. The walls and structures built into it were reminiscent of the forerunner constructs in Halo, with that same bluish glow along the walls. The place was like a massive apartment complex.
Soon the "camera" panned through a window into one of the apartments. It looked pretty typical, kind of a Pueblo style architecture inside, which didn't exactly clash with the exterior, but didn't really compliment it either. It was strange to see all the same, especially the adobe petroglyphs on tiles mounted in rows along the white wall.
There were a few guys in black pin stripe suits and fedoras standing around. I think they were even wearing spats. One had a black gun pointed at me, and he told me to translate the symbols rather sternly. I looked around, not seeing a good chance to escape or fight, so I looked to the tiles on the wall trying to make some sense of them.
As I looked on, some of the tiles seemed to almost pop out at me, and some kind of message made it self known in my mind. One tile in particular came close, and one of the suits said "He's doing that Da Vinci Code thing again". I don't recall doing so before, and I feel I can write better than Dan Brown any day of the week, but my vexation at that comment evaporated as the tile of concentric squares came up to me. It was the letter J.
My cell phone went off right next to my face. I had set it early so I could get up in time for the flight. Guess I forgot to turn off the alarm once we got here. The sun wasn't even up, and the room was nearly pitch black. Surprisingly, I had no trouble rolling over and going back to sleep. I didn't have any more dreams that I can remember, but now that I think about it, I'm going to take a look at an old computer game. Those symbols reminded me of the handbook to The Land of the Green Isles. Extra points if you know what that refers to.

The next dream is as close to a nightmare as I've had in awhile. Fear is something I've been quite familiar with as a child. These days I don't feel it as much as I probably should. Even a dream that would otherwise be quite frightening.
I was back at my old house. We did some remodeling on it to add a laundry room and an office to the back. We would occasionally have a grandparent or aunt live with us for a time, so the back office would be converted to a bedroom for me or I would share it with my brother.
The dream took place during one of these periods as I can see my bed along the wall by the door, my brother's by the window, and a desk with the computers across from my bed. And right on my bed was an old laptop my father used for work. When he left it home, I used to practice cracking my way in and I'd play around with it. Descent II was one of my favorite games on there, but instead of a game, it displayed a jagged wave pattern in a vivid red, like on an oscillator screen.
Suddenly I felt a stabbing pain throughout my entire body. It felt like I was struck by lightning, the worst of it stabbing like a needle into my brain. I could feel my muscles constricting, yet I was forced to stretch out my limbs. I was standing as if I froze in the middle of a jumping jack, and a voice came from the laptop saying I was under it's control.
You'd figure at this point I'd start to feel a bit scared. Even a little bit. But rather I was pissed. Yet for all the rage and fury in me, I could strain as much as I want, but my body wouldn't respond, seemingly moving on it's own while the voice on the laptop taunted me for my inability to control myself. It even had me spin around like a top for a few moments.
Suddenly I stopped, and my body almost fell through the door. Instead of the laundry room, I emerged in a room bathed in blue light, rather like the dream I had back in Hawaii. The place definitely looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, or game. I found myself at the top of a short series of steps. And to my left, sitting just a few feet away, was a familiar looking sight.
I never expected to see her again. I still don't know who she is, she didn't offer a name this time either. Though instead of jeans and a sweat shirt, in this dream she was wearing a flowing white gown. I could still feel my muscles strain as I made my way towards her. I wasn't under complete control, but wherever I was, I could fight whatever was influencing my motions. The pain was nearly gone, and it felt like walking through a swimming pool.
She looked up at me and shook her head, saying something like, "I see you're having a little trouble". I can't remember exactly, but she said something like that, and in a playful, almost teasing tone, with a smile to match. I didn't mind a little teasing from her. I said something, called her something, a name, a title, I can't remember. But she nodded, told me to expect some pain, and that I'll have to keep fighting.
She reached out to me, splaying her fingers before grasping the top of my head. Then she seized it in a vice-like grip, causing a searing pain to spread through me. I swore I could feel the ridges of my brain pressing against my skull with the pressure. The feeling didn't go away when she released me, it felt just like the original jolt that caused me to be controlled in the first place. But it had the opposite effect, allowing me to move my own body again.
She turned away from me, telling me to go back and fight once more before raising a hood over her head and walking down the steps. There was a flash of white and I was back in my room. The laptop still displayed the jagged red oscillator image, and the voice mocking my return. I could feel it trying to seize control over my body, and I resisted. Through the pain, I was able to hold it off when the image of a cell phone came to mind. I was still puzzled by that thought when I woke up, seeing the alarm on my phone had gone off in front of my face again.
"Demons!"
That was what she said when I had told her about this dream. Green-eyes had read a book from her boyfriend on the subject, and apparently what I had described, the feeling of a malevolent force controlling ones body, is a symptom of demonic possession. Then again, her boyfriend is a weirdo that actually worshiped demons, apparently. That might make him knowledgeable, but it also makes him a grade A nutjob in my eyes. She sure knows how to pick 'em... I'd just as soon chalk it up to a strange bout of sleep paralysis.
However, I didn't tell her about the girl. She's shown up twice before in my dreams, and each time she's something of an enigma. And I still haven't figured out what role she's supposed to play in my sub conscious, if any. The only other example of a recurring character I've had in the past was my Gray Maiden. Could she be a replacement, perhaps?
I never could understand women...

Another Old Regret?

2009-05-07T12:08:00.000-07:00

I didn't get much sleep last night. I spent most of it tossing and turning. It must have been around 5am when I finally fell asleep.
What dreams I had, I can scarcely remember. One scene, however, stands out starkly in my mind. I came home to an empty house, as the rest of the family had gone out to dinner without me. Not an uncommon occurrence back when I was working. I'm not above cooking for one, but in this dream I decided to go out to eat.
The restaurant wasn't much more than a white booth with a kitchen inside and some tables outside, covered in checkered plastic tablecloths. The kitchen staff was entirely latino, as it can be in these parts. They responded to my order in spanish, and spoke among themselves in that language.
Looking back, there was a young man with black rimmed glasses sitting at one of the tables. I didn't have to be told to know he was my half-brother. How I knew was something I didn't understand. There were no introductions. I sat down next to him and he asked me about our father. He wanted to know what kind of man he was.
So I told him. He wasn't fazed at all, a smirk appearing on his face. It reminded me of my father's, and I felt a strong inclination to punch him. I can't remember at all what happens next. We sat and talked some more, but I cannot remember the words or anything about what was said next before I woke up.
What disturbs me most about this dream is, a few years ago, my mother was approached by a woman. She allegedly had a daughter with whatshisface, which would make her my half-sister. Apparently she wanted to meet my siblings and I. My mother turned her away. I had the feeling she struggled with herself over whether to tell us or not, but she had in the end. She made her feelings quite clear, that we're all the family we need and didn't need anyone else. She asked us if we really wanted to meet with any of his other children. My sister answered in the negative right away, speaking for all of us. I had my reservations, but I knew it would only upset my mother, so I kept quiet.
Still, it bothered me for awhile. I had a half-sister out there. How much does she know? About him? About my family? She wanted to reach out, why? I don't know if there would be anything sinister in that, though with anything concerning my father, I have to be cautious.
Hm. I just remembered almost a decade ago my mother mentioning my father possibly having another son out there as well. I don't think he would be as old as the young man in my dream, but there is the possibility that there is one out there.
I feel a strong urge to talk about this with someone. I could go to my sister, but she'll doubtless report to my mother about it as close as they are. If I'm going to do that, I may as well speak about it to both of them directly. Even so, it's not going to be a pleasant topic of discussion.
Why couldn't that bastard have just kept it zipped?

He Who Hesitates...

2009-05-06T16:39:00.000-07:00

I should have started this sooner. As it is, it's hanging on the edge of my memory, like a piece of dry ice burning off into haze. I don't remember much of it at all, but I do remember a few things.
I was sneaking around a building. From the wood paneling and marble floors, it felt like some kind of mansion. I've never really been inside one, but that's the feeling I got. I exited a hallway and entered a room, starting down some steps when a piece of the wall in front of me swung open to reveal a hidden passageway. I stepped inside, noticing that it had a lot of polish for a secret hallway. The hardwood floors and walls were varnished. I don't know if one is supposed to be able to smell in a dream, but I got the impression of a musky odor, as if this place hadn't been opened in decades.
I soon came to a window with a view of a boardroom. A bunch of guys in suits were sitting around a table, listening to one of their number as he pointed at a projection along the far wall. I couldn't make out what was on the screen, but they stared him with rapt attention. I couldn't hear what was being said through the glass, but I was able to get a good look at the speaker.
He looked to be in his late twenties, in a charcoal suit with pinstripes. In spite of his age, his hair was starkly grayed and immaculately groomed. His eyes were the same color. They looked right at me through the window and I stepped back, surprised. I practically ran back down the passage, hoping not to get caught.
I seem to have forgotten a lot of what happened next, but the next thing I remember, I was still running. Except this time it was at night. I stopped behind of some kind of formal gathering, guys in tuxedos were chatting with each other and women in evening gowns. They didn't seem to notice me.
The party was gathered on a kind of patio made up of dark cobble stones. It was seated inside the lip of a canyon, it's walls rising up around the area. The giant wall of earth turned in a right angle about a mile away. And on the other leg of that angle, resting on a shelf of the cliff face, stood a large castle-like structure that seemed eerily familiar.
The stars shined overhead, standing out in the navy blue sky. I couldn't see the moon, but it must have been full. The area was bathed in it's light.
A voice beckoned, and I looked over to see a young woman in a form fitting black dress. The thin straps left her shoulders and collarbone bare, and the slits on either side of her dress reached to mid thigh showing off her legs. They were nice legs.
I don't recall the color of her eyes, but her hair tumbled down in crimson waves. Think Jessica Rabbit, that is if she was a b-cup and wore her hair out of her eyes. She took a step my way and I walked over to meet her. Her smile and manner suggested a friendship, though not a close one. She spoke to me, looking over to the 'castle' in the distance. I can barely remember hearing her voice, but the words "my daughter" stand out in my mind. I don't remember anything that happened afterward except opening my eyes and squinting against the sun.
Looking back, I think I know where my sub-conscious picked up that mansion. It was the First City Bank and Trust from Thief II. Which doesn't make any sense at all, as I haven't played that game in months.
I don't know any redheads anyways...

Waterways and A-bombs

2009-04-18T08:46:00.000-07:00

It's occurred to me that these dreams must have some symbolism in them. Why else would I be a soldier in many of them? I normally take on a reconnaissance role, but this time I was with a regular unit. No longer a lone wolf.
My dreams are often in monochrome or full color. This was the first time it started out in sepia. I could hear the artillery falling around, and feel the reverberations through the soles of my boots. I trudged along with my squad at the bottom of a water way, winding through the outskirts of a country town.
We kept going through the flooded trench, using it as cover from God only knows. A few shells actually struck a bridge up ahead, it's collapse causing us to detour through a storm drain.
And then there was pandemonium. I should have realized this dream was a period piece from the gear my squad was carrying, but it only came to mind when I saw the enemy. I was in the middle of World War II. Or as close an approximation as my mind can come to it from movies books and video games.
I charged ahead, looking for an open shot. The enemy disappeared as quickly as they came. Looking ahead in the storm drain, I thought I had seen an enemy soldier trying to put on an allied uniform, but my Captain tapped me on the shoulder and pointed me down a side tunnel. When I looked back, the enemy was gone.
We emerged further along the waterway, and I was led up some stairs toward a field just outside the town. Leaning against a battered brick wall, I set my rifle down next to me, looking at the rest of my squad enjoying the fireworks on a clear starry night. I guess the war was over.
The Captain came up and handed me a cigarette. I took a glance at it in between my fingers, but didn't smoke it. I held it at my side and let it burn while he told me about the bomb. They couldn't find it. And he said that there were enemy infiltrators in the area. That wasn't news to me.
The smoke from the fireworks hadn't cleared. And out from the din, like a phantom, came a dirigible, loaded with an atomic bomb. My Captain shouted something about 'Little Boy', which was one of the bombs dropped on Japan. This place didn't look like Japan, and the swastikas on the balloon didn't make it American.
I dove for the heavy machine gun on the ground and tried to shoot it down. The balloon went up in a gout of flame, and I prayed that the bomb wouldn't go off when it hit the ground. Then more blimps rose into the air, a swarm surrounding us, each carrying an atomic payload. My comrades ran to and fro, getting weapons, and firing into the air. I tried to shoot down as many as I could. One was getting away. I took careful aim, held down the trigger, and I opened my eyes with the blaring of my alarm.
I'm not sure how I should feel about that dream. Strangely, when I had awoken, I felt more refreshed than I had in awhile, despite the bare three hours of sleep. And while the dream was still fresh in my mind, my thoughts were soon taken up by a girl. I still had a scene to finish, and after a quick shower, I was back at the keyboard, typing away. Even as I wrote about her, I paused now and then to type this out.
Where are you when I need you, Tex?

Rather disturbing...

2009-04-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

I had a particularly disturbing dream last night. Once again, it involved people I've lost touch with, though more recently. Maybe there's some kind of message here. It's probably pretty straightforward all things considered.
I started out in a garden. Stone walls covered in ivy with a moss drenched birdbath by an archway. It looked pretty old, and while I've never been there it felt familiar. There was a headstone sticking up from the ground to the right of the archway.
Standing on the grave was a former coworker of mine. I wouldn't exactly call us friends, but we were friendly enough. She was a tanned latina, brown eyes, with dark auburn hair that reached to the middle of her back. I've always thought of her as bright, and if she didn't have a boyfriend, I might have considered asking her out.
But that's neither here nor there. She's standing on the grave, looking down at the headstone. Neither of us has to speak for me to realize it's hers. I knew that before I walked up and read the name off of it. She turned to me, and spoke. It was happening today. Maybe soon. Then others approached, from all around, surrounding her. And the next thing I realized, I was being pushed aboard a rail tram. If you've played Half-Life, then you have a good idea of what it looked like. I found myself alone in it as it wound through a cavernous tunnel, shaped like a long diamond. Upon exiting, it approached a hospital and stopped at one of the upper levels.
The place was bustling. Patients waited on chairs and benches, nurses walked briskly across the carpeted floor, a doctor or two leading a stretcher into rooms. And there she was to my left, lying in a bed. Against a window in a room this busy. She was accompanied by one or two coworkers, and a few people I didn't recognize.
The two seated in chairs at the foot of her bed where girls I knew from the fencing club. People I didn't think she would know, though in a place like Pasadena, anything is possible. They made way for me when I walked up to her. She said it was time, and before I could make a reply, my alarm went off.
Hours later, and it's still quite clear in my mind. I wonder what that's about.

Giving Up The Ghost

2009-02-08T15:58:00.000-08:00

I was up for most of the night tossing and turning. Again. This time the sun was nearly up by the time I fell asleep. I just couldn't get comfortable. Perhaps that would explain why this next dream was so strange.
I can't remember exactly what was going on. For one, I dressed in a gray suit. I hate suits. A dress shirt and tie, that's my normal attire, but slacks and a blazer? No thank you. That wasn't the weirdest part, though. I was driving, barreling down the road, and there were sirens in my wake. In the back of my mind I noted that they were with me, and that, wherever I was going, I had to hurry.
I drove up to the front of an office building and ran in, police cars pulling up behind me. It was dark inside, but my eyes adjusted to the shadows quickly enough as I ran up the stairwell to a mid level. I dashed over to a corner office, but when I got there, I could tell I was too late. Whatever I was looking for wasn't there.
The muted sound of a closing door caught my attention and I was running again, this time back the way I came. There was a figure making it's way down the stairs, and I went as fast as I could after it. When it got to the ground level, it made for a window and leaped through, disappearing into the night. I didn't waste much time standing around. Somehow I knew where it was going next.
I got back into the car and floored it, making my way to a residential neighborhood. It kind of reminded me of the suburbs of West Covina, right by the freeway. The house I stopped in front of even reminded me of where my Grandmother lived with the family on my father's side.
I got out of the car, and made my way quietly up to the door. It was open. As I crept in, I patted my pockets and the inside of my coat. I was thinking I'm wearing a suit, being followed by black and whites, I must have been a cop in this dream. So why aren't I carrying a side arm?
A sound from the nearby bedroom made me wish I had a blade, at least. When I opened the door, I saw a tall male figure, possibly caucasian or hispanic, in black pants and a dark gray hooded sweatshirt. He looked up when I entered and vanished. I blinked in surprise, but the sounds of foot steps heading toward the back spurred me to give chase. I made it to the back yard just in time to see him step on some conveniently placed boulders to jump over the fence and out of sight. I knew I could do the same, maybe even catch him. But something compelled me to stop.
In spite of the fact that his hood was up, I knew who he was thanks in part to his rather distinctive eye wear. Or rather who it was supposed to be. He's a main character in a book I'm working on, a master thief as silent as the grave. Yet the thief I was chasing made too much noise for it to be the same guy. And even in a dream, why would I be chasing the alter ego of my alter ego...

Resonant Yaw

2009-02-02T11:30:00.000-08:00

"...what he saw as defects were actually necessities. Look: when I was working on missiles, we dealt with something called 'resonant yaw.' Resonant yaw meant that, even though a missile was only slightly unstable off the pad, it was hopeless. It was inevitably going to go out of control, and it couldn't be brought back. That's a feature of mechanical systems. A little wobble can get worse until the whole system collapses. But those same little wobbles are essential to a living system. They mean the system is healthy and responsive."

-Jurassic Park

I can see why this dream started where it had. Earlier in the day, I tried looking for my Halo Cd. When I couldn't find it, I downloaded Halo Custom Edition, thinking there might be a chance I'd run into her on one of those servers. A slim chance, but even if I hadn't found a friend, I might at least find a decent sniper server. Of course there was no luck on either count. I guess it was still on my mind when I went to bed later.

I emerged in my dream on a snowy landscape, once again, in the thick of battle. Except this was from the game. The scene was reminiscent of the one in Halo 3, where the two scarab walkers were dropped from orbit. Though there was only one in this dream, and it's attention seemed to be occupied on the opposite side of the slope. I ran up to get a better view when two zombie-like flood combat forms popped up from the side, landing in my path. I looked around for a weapon, any weapon, and found a pair of plasma swords by the body of a covenant grunt. Perfect.
With a sword in each hand (which they really should've put in the game!) I cut down the two figures before me and continued upward. More flood came scrambling up the side, mainly infection forms. I didn't stop swinging until I made it to the ridge on top. The scarab was about to be taken down by the ODSTs, but I noticed a pair of ghost hover cycles gliding away from the scene, towards a tunnel in the nearby cliff face. Thinking back to my brother's japanese hero shows, I leaped off the hill, taking out a rider with a flying side kick.
I hopped onto the driver's seat as the other ghost came to a halt a few yards away. The other rider wasn't a covenant alien. She was a human. She didn't give me much chance to get a good look, taking off like a shot into the tunnel. I gave chase, hitting the after burners to dash in after her.
Through the winding labyrinth of passages, I kept her in sight until I took a corner too hard and spun out. By the time I got back under control, she was gone. Luckily the tunnel ended soon after that, and there was nowhere else for her to have gone. The room it opened up to had a kind of catwalk or gantry in the middle, leading up to an entryway. Getting off my ride, I noticed there wasn't an easy way to climb up it. So I jumped, kicked off the nearest wall, and grabbed onto the edge, pulling myself up.
The passage way was a white alcove. It didn't look like it would lead anywhere, but when I approached, I suddenly found myself back at Bishop Amat High School. This was creepy. Aside from my time at marching band, I didn't have too many fond memories of this place. It was during that time where I had something of a crisis of faith, and it took me years to find it again.
I continued walking forward, past the library, through the quad, and around the chapel. To my right was the hallway that held my locker for a year and a half until I was expelled. Right across from the infirmary. I don't know what drew me to the door, but I opened it up expecting to find the usual beds and nurses desk. Instead, I found a bedroom, much like the one a child would have. The bed occupied the space under the window, the walls painted in a dark blue color. There were toys strewn about, plastic balls, wooden blocks, and some hot wheels cars. I picked up a red ball, squeezing it lightly in hand. Just like the kind you'd find in one of those playgrounds at Mc Donald's.
Suddenly, a female voice came from behind me, asking "What took you so long?". When I had turned around, I caught a glimpse of the girl who was on the ghost before I had woken up. That was when it came to me. I still had no idea who she was, but I know that I had seen her before. She was the same girl from the art gallery in my previous dream. What she was doing in the middle of a battle, or back at my old high school, I had no idea. Though I still feel a little unsettled from seeing that old place again.

Freefall

2009-01-28T23:48:00.000-08:00

Everyone has dreams where they are falling. A quick google search reveals that some believe it signifies a subconscious fear of losing control, a sign that one is about to give into some sexual urges, or that one is out of step with God's will. Perhaps there are some merits to those views. But what does it mean if the fall is out the back of an aircraft?

I was sitting down in a large metal compartment, a loud humming resounding in my ears. A red light came on accompanied by the blaring of a klaxon, and I was pushed roughly toward an opening in what I assumed to be the rear. Once at the edge, I was given another hard shove before I plummeted into the darkness. And silence. After a few moments, a heads up display lit up, and I heard the wind whistling outside my helmet. I saw the clouds below before turning up to look at the stars. My transport was nowhere in sight.
I was suddenly enveloped in fog, the stars disappearing from view. I reoriented myself downwards, droplets of water splattering against my visor until I broke free from the clouds, faced with the ground. The rapidly approaching ground. I reached over for a ripcord, but didn't find it where I thought it would be. After groping around a bit, I didn't find it anywhere. An alarm started beeping steadily in my ears. It sped up rapidly, turning into a piercing whine the closer I got to the ground. I was about a hundred feet up when I thought about how much it was going to hurt. As I hit, there was a flash of white. Then everything went black.
The next thing I realized I was running. Where, or why, I didn't know. It took a few seconds for my vision to come back, and when it did, I was in the middle of a wrecked city. It was as if downtown LA was hit by an air strike. And there I was, running through the ruins with a strange rifle in hand. I could hear the sounds of battle around me, the staccato of a distant machine gun, the echo of explosions, all muffled by the half destroyed buildings around me.
I entered a doorway to find something that felt very out of place in a scene like this. A bathroom. More specifically, the bathroom I have here at the house. Except this one had a large, retracting door next to the shower. I stepped into the tub and pressed a button to open it. And as it rolled on up, I saw another soldier shooting at a very large, minotaur-like mechanical monstrosity, like something out of DOOM.
His name came up on my HUD, but I already knew who it was, even though the black helmet he wore covered his face. Randy. He was a friend of mine back from the old neighborhood, about ten years back. I haven't heard from him since, though I recall someone mentioning he had served a tour of duty in Afghanistan before leaving the Marines to attend UCLA.
And he was about to be crushed by a giant metal minotaur.
I felt my blood boil at that, my rage suddenly switching me into autopilot. I hit a switch on my rifle, dropping the barrel and replacing it with a different one hanging off the pack on my back. I then extended the stock, switched out the cartridge, and worked the bolt back to feed a new round into the chamber. Then I took aim, and opened fire. I didn't think I'd do much damage, and I didn't, my rounds pinging harmlessly against it's armor. But I distracted it enough for Randy to get running in the opposite direction. And then it came after me.
I froze for a second before my legs got the message to start moving and I vaulted out of the tub as it's hoof came crashing down in the spot I had just left. Bursting through the door, I ran, and kept running as I heard it pounding after me. A loud puff of gas sounded behind me, and an explosion rained a ton of rubble down upon my head. A large chunk of concrete slit a crack in the middle of my visor, and I was buried in the debris. In between the sparks and jagged lines of liquid crystal in my HUD, I saw my arm reach out, pushing some of the rubble out of the way. My left arm wasn't responding at all, but once I was sitting upright, the alarm went off next to my pillow, and I was greeted with the shadows of my room, and the first rays of the sun coming through my window.

Randy. Of all people, why him? He was like a big brother to me, to all the kids in the neighborhood. I haven't thought about him in years, and he suddenly appears in a dream, and in mortal danger no less. I wonder what that's all about.

Following my Dream Girl

2009-01-20T20:23:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to do one of these for awhile, but I haven't had much time over the holiday season. Even so, now that I'm actually getting down to it I find myself ill-equipped. I had a friend, a long time ago, that was good at interpreting dreams and such. But it's been years since I've heard from Tex, and I doubt she's going to be popping up again any time soon. I've tried my hand at it a time or two, but I'm nowhere near as good as she is, and it's difficult to be objective about ones own dreams. So, I guess this is it. I'll just put it down here and hope maybe the act of typing it out makes it clearer.

In the past, there was a recurring dream that's haunted me every now and again. I walk through a foggy landscape made up of an amalgamation of places I've been, mainly schools and old neighborhoods. Leading me through this landscape is a girl about twenty years old, give or take. She's not always dressed the same, sometimes in a dress, other times in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, but like the landscape, she's monochromatic. The dreams are often either black and white, or nearly so. And my guide is always silent, never speaking or making any kind of sound other than her footsteps. What's more, she wears the face of an old flame of mine. An old unrequited love that eventually evolved into a rather close friendship. Symbolic of old regrets, perhaps?

As crazy as it may have sounded, I was hoping to ask her myself. The last time I had that dream, I thought about maybe trying to work it into a lucid dream and trying to get her to talk. Though since I've came up with this plan, the dreams have, thus far, stopped. Perhaps the question was the answer afterall.

Last night, however, I had a dream that, while different, reminded me of my "gray maiden" nonetheless. It started out with me on the street by my work, the area shadowed by dark clouds overhead. It felt like I was just coming off a rough shift. I could feel my shoulders and back ache as I walked past the art gallery across the street from the theater. There were the usual paintings and sculpture work in the windows. And as I was coming up to the glass doors, there was a strange sensation. When you're in the same room with someone, input from your senses form a complete "sense" of that person, an impression of their presence that remains even when you look away from them. That impression was what compelled me to step inside.
Perhaps my dream shifted locales when I entered. The interior was different then I remembered. It looked more like a library than a gallery. Folding tables were lined up by the entrance, with a variety of people sitting at them, seemingly chatting and/or studying. Beyond that, there were bookshelves as in a library taking up the whole of the rear part of the room. To the right of that was an elevator framed by the doors to restrooms, and an exit beyond that.
When I looked over the tables again, there was a girl that stood out to me. The presence I felt from outside. From the door, I saw that she had short brown hair, and was wearing a long sleeved, white thermal shirt and faded jeans. She was reading intently from an open book that lay on the table in front of her, a pencil in one hand with a notebook at her elbow.
My legs carried me over to her of their own accord. As I approached she looked up and gave me a warm smile. She felt like an old friend. But while there was familiarity in her brown eyes, it was a face I had never seen before. She had a common prettiness, but the way she held her head gave her an air of nobility I found appealing.
She offered, and I took her hand as she greeted me, and gave her a light kiss on her knuckles, as is my custom with close friends. We chatted for some minutes, yet the subject of our discussion escapes my memory. I do recall her chiding me about my mumbling, a habit I sometimes lapse into involuntarily. Particularly when embarrassed or uncomfortable. She excused herself to the restroom, but came back out as soon as she had entered. I found that strange, but I didn't complain when she retook her seat next to me.
Our eyes locked. There was something hypnotic about her gaze, and I couldn't look away. My thoughts and feelings suddenly felt very distant as I reached over, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. I cupped her cheek gently in my hand before leaning in, our lips pressing together briefly before I came back to my senses and broke contact.
I felt absolutely mortified, certain I had made a complete fool of myself. I had expected a reproach, but instead she simply looked into my eyes with a serenity that was very unexpected. She then closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she leaned towards me. I met her halfway, feeling her warmth once more.
A minute or so later, we took a breath and collected ourselves. I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. She looked infinitely more composed, the faintest of smiles curving her lips. She closed the book she had on the table and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the back of her chair. I followed her out the door to a different scene than when I had entered. The theater was still across the street, but the skyline further along was altered, reminiscent of the high rise buildings of Hollywood boulevard before the recent construction.
The sun was setting along the horizon, bands of orange and scarlet stretching along the sky while dark gray clouds hovered above us, patches of blue peeking between them. I commented on the rain, and that I had neglected to bring my hat. She replied likewise, zipping up her sweater and raising the hood. As the rain started to fall, she turned to face me. And I opened my eyes to the sun shining through my bedroom window.
With the empty feeling that followed, I think I may have preferred a nightmare.