A Very Rude Awakening

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

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

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

"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

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

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

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.