Now, Count Up Your Sins

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.

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

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

"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

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

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?!

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.