Annoyingly random bits

Snakes, millions of spiders in a tree, a manager from work, prostitute, best friend, cover up, party, trashed hotel room.

Yeah. That about sums up the last week of dreams.

A sewing needle...

Fri night 4/11: Majority of the night was a combination of living the TV show Leverage and the online game Shadowrun: Online. The part I do remember the details of, though, was much more interesting:

  The snow was melting, but the crunch of ice still clinging to the dead grass could be heard as we walked along the edge of the valley. It was early morning and the sun could be seen trying its best to peer through the grey clouds that still hung low in the sky. Manor house and mansion, each as empty as the last, we walked slowly by in silence as if a single harsh breathe might disturb their peace.
  All appeared in various states of ruin, though one in the distance stood out among the others. It's architecture was early 1800's Western European, with the outside at least looking in pristine condition compared to the others we had passed in out travels. Walking up to the door, I rapt loudly thrice and waited, though had expected no response. As the moments lingered on, none came.
  Motioning to my friend, they quickly dug in their pockets until a set of lock picks was produced. Placing my ear to the door and holding my breath, I listened for a few more heartbeats for any sign there may be someone inside; silence . Quickly I went to work on the lock, careful to not break it or my tools. In a matter of moments, the lock have an audible "click" and we were in..
  Quietly shutting the door behind us we began to take in our new surroundings. Layers of ancient dust and cobwebs generations old covered the hard wood floors and stairs. Light filtered in through the curtainless windows, illuminating our path through vast halls and winding staircases. The furniture was sparse; only a few intricately carved wooden chairs here and there out a long forgotten end table left behind perhaps to cater to the ghosts in this place.
  Finding nothing of great value or interest in the east wing, our paths crossed again near the front door and my friend and I began heading west into the kitchen and dining areas. There the same layers of dust covered what appeared to be a well loved and once bet much used hearth along with a stout solid wood table and four chairs. A panty to the south in the room revealed items that had been left in storage; many old cysts of various small items of little to no value, an ancient sewing machine, and a set of sewing needles along with some brightly red colored thread that the dust and spiders seemed to have somehow missed in their travels though the house.
  Reaching for the thread to examine it further, I disturb the arty of needles which fall to the floor, scattering. So as not to leave any mess, I carefully gather them up though manage to prick a finger in the process. Finger in mouth occupying one hand, I use the other to put the needles back in their place and with a mournful last look, leave the beautiful thread where it is and close the pantry door.
  Just as we make it back into the entryway of the main hall and it's carved pillars, the front door opens and two women enter. They're both very similar in appearance and dress with blonde hair, long past their waists, and dressing gowns; one of grey and one a deep forest green. They look at us not with surprise, but more concern for our presence here. We're asked why we're there by the one in the green gown. Stammering I explain in a hurried lie that we find the front door unlocked and I was searching for a sewing needle. Thankfully I had find one and done what I needed and returned it to its place and we were just getting on our way again.  As they start forward and walk past us, it feels like they're not just looking at us but through us; into us almost. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I motion to my friend to start making our way to the door and as I'm making our apologies for disturbing them, we make a break for it back out into the sunlit morning.
  The door slams behind us and we're left in silence as the clouds continue to lazily pass over the sun, mocking us with the shadows cast upon us in their dance across the sky.

Are you going to Scarborough Faire?

  This was from a couple nights ago. Not much really. Snicker had joined up with two other men to create a Faire act that was both vocally musical in nature as well as classic stage tricks. One of the guys became ill just before one of their performances and Snicker asked if I cutoff stand in for his friend. Not wanting to disappoint, I agreed though I can't sing a lick and knew none of their stage routine.
  We survived the singing parts (I sounded better than irl), but when it came to the stage stuff and having to speak to the audience directly, I froze solid, barely even able to stammer incoherently.
  It was incredibly embarrassing, but how things have gone since life events first year of college. Used to relish being on stage and the leader of great audiences of people. Now I accept being in the lime light, though I can't say I'm happy there. Still miss the old days.

My own dream park...

There are places in dreams for me that are always reoccurring, though it may be years in between. A house, a mall, a water park, a theme park with rides... List goes on. Last night I got another little bit to my theme park. It's never a solid place. The rides are not safe, the machines not stable, and the chance for injury or worse is always very high.

Thanks to a really rough day at work, all I remember of this new addition is tracks for some kind of train or roller coaster. There were boards that weren't stable, large train spikes not flush with the boards so they were loose, and the whole thing shook and often barely stayed on it's rails as we went.

One of my greatest fears is falling. Not heights, just falling. Keeps me from hiking anything steep to even stairs if the angle is to great. Stupidest thing ever. And it was totally pinged in my dream last night. Hours of fear. And I could not control it and I could not stop it until the alarm clock went off this morning.

Another rough night in the week of nightmares. At least this time I didn't kill, our try to kill, anyone. Bonus.

Nightmares that don't end

Starting to see a theme: nightmares every night for nearly a week and my trying to (and sometimes succeeding) in killing people. Wtf. Anywho, last night was nightmare followed by a weird bit that was interrupted by needing to have lunch and go see Captain America. Not a bad thing since dream likely would have turned into a nightmare too the way my luck has been running.

Nightmare:
  A blonde, middle aged woman was a deceiving, charismatic, bitch. She was using the guise of a church to build a cult following and brainwash its members into being hateful, biased people; most of whom I had once called friends. But she knew I was on to her.
  I had managed to make it into her church complex (was a huge amount of land with multiple buildings) and corner her in a hall. Not afraid to resort to violence, I called her out on her lies and how she was using and manipulating good people, then proceeded to attack her. I had so much hate and rage against this woman for what she had done that I quickly crossed the last few steps between us and began to strangle get with my bare hands.
  Though she struggled, I easily held her in my grasp and ignored the claw marks in my hands and arms from her trying to free herself as blood began to do down on the carpet from my wounds. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't end her life. Hey windpipe was right there under my thumbs, yet I could not bring myself to crush it. Also, we were being interrupted.
  Through the tinted glass of the door at the end of the hall I saw someone from town approaching casually, apparently having no idea of what was happening inside. Just as he reached for the door handle I released my hold on the woman's throat, violently pushing her away in the process and turning and walking away down the hall towards the door opposite the one the parishioner had just entered through.
  As I exited I heard a shout behind me, yet continued casually walking, letting the door shut behind me and took a left into the massive hallway leading between two of the buildings in the complex. Daylight gently filtered into the hall from windows high above and people could be seen walking both on the first floor and along the balconies above.
  After a few minutes, a few old friends caught up with me. Seemed they had been running, though they tried hard to act casual and said they had seen me walking down the hall and wanted to say hi and welcome me in person to the church. I thanked them for the kind gesture and told them I was actually just on my way out. That's when they attacked.
  Fanning out, the three of them surrounded me attempting to leave me no opening. They said they didn't want to hurt me, but would if I left them no choice. Smiling, I made the first move by kicking the one right in front of me in the face; thankfully he didn't see that coming and it landed him hard on his ass with blood gushing out of his nose. Unfortunately, that left me open for the other two to move in.
  I was strong, but not that strong. My friends since childhood came in and each grabbed an arm in a nearly iron grip. It was my turn to struggle, but it was useless. With that,my hands were restrained in front of me and I was unceremoniously thrown over one of the guys shoulders. Thankfully, having long legs and plenty of fight left in me, I kicked him hard in the nuts. This dropped me on the carpeted floor, but I definitely felt the cement underneath as I landed on my hip.
  With crushed nuts on the floor and bloody nose slow on the uptake, that left me with only one last friend to deal with. Regaining my feet, I hobbled myself into a fitting stance and as he came forward to grapple me, I got a strong kick into his left kneecap. He too got to feel that the bitch hadn't spent enough of their hard earned money on good carpet. In that moment, I knew I had my chance to run. Turning my back on my once friends, I began to hobble as best my right hip would let me to the nearest exit.
  That was until I got shot.
  There's always that first moment of shock. The one where you replay everything up to that moment to determine where the hell everything went wrong. What horrible mistake could you have possibly made that lead to this point. With dawning realization, I dropped to my knees, my hands slowly going to my stomach where blood and darker things were flowing out making a small pool on their pristine carpet.
  I had never considered anyone would have a weapon inside the church. My poor assumption had just left me with a bullet through my back and out my gut. Bloody nose walked slowly around me, gun in hand, pointed at the floor, looking at me as if I was truly a sad loss to their cause but apparently my outward condition must have shown I had no fight left in me; that was quickly covering their floor.
  The bitch then walked around, a satisfied smirk on those red lips when she saw my gut and then my face. I at least had the energy left to glare at her which only seemed to add to her satisfaction. As she bent down next to me, I could see the red marks on her neck from where what seemed now like ages ago I had held her life in my hands. Now that the tables were turned, I did not expect her to return the courtesy I had shown her of letting her live.
  Feeling her hair brush my face as she moved her mouth next to my ear, there wasn't a damn thing I could do to her now. My vision was starting to blur as I began coughing up blood. In the softest of whispers, her breath hot on my face, she asks me if now I believe in her god. Smiling, I turn to her and spit blood in her face. If you're going to leave the world, you might as well do it satisfied.
  Then my entire existence goes black.

Bit:
  People camping everywhere. Weird sized/shaped tents. Sleeping bags that were upright in that tight cocoon shape like a lot of the lower degree sleeping bags; also poker of the plain ground ones too. Lots of people.
  Unfortunately, none of them could trusted. Someone or many someone's were out to capture or kill me. I kept walking past row after row of these people and their tents and sleeping bags, knowing there was no way I could sleep as they could come for me at any time and I just be prepared.

Bits and dolls

First nightmare: pretty much eaten by second nightmare. All I can remember of the first is there was fire. Nothing else

Dream: majority eaten by second nightmare. My cousin Shanna was due to have a baby soon (little girl) and her mom was freaking out in a son to be a grandmother again happy spastic way. Apparently there were a lot of preparations that needed to be made. Totally. Spastic.

Second nightmare: in my porcelain doll collection at some point I'd been given a wooden doll to add. Her face consisted of two pieces where one was kind of a 3/4 pie shape with rounded edges that was her right eye/right side of head and all the lower head; this is from her protective, but if you were looking at her. The other 1/4 was her left eye and head from just about cheek bone and up.
  Get hair was a dark brown, kind of stringy, but thick, down to just below mid-back with bangs. The wood OB her face has been painted a flesh color at some point, but had mostly faded back to the visible grain of wood beneath. The lightest of pink color was still visible on her cheeks. Her lips a couple shades lighter than blood red. Barely visible blue eye shadow with what once were long, black eyelashes, now mostly gone over time. Her eyes were brown.
  She wore a dress that looked to be hand made and faded with years with little nicks in the fabric here and there. It was a velvet dress, long, with long sleeves and white trim, now more yellowed by time. Get shoes were black, slip on, with white socks. And she was always smiling.
  Having a weird feeling about the doll, when I received her I was very thankful, but once behind closed doors hid her away behind the other dolls. She apparently did not like that much. Over time are world show up having fallen on the floor off the shelf when there was no way she could have without the other dolls having been knocked down in front of her. Sometimes waiting in the bathroom. Sometimes watching me during the night and I would discover her in my bed when I woke in the mornings.
  I tried throwing her away, but she just returned, always smiling. Until the day I tried to burn her with fire. All that did was piss her off. The three quarters piece of her face was charred, but the one quarter piece all looked fine. And that one permanent smile was more a snarl as she moved of her own volition towards me with a carving knife from my mother's kitchen.
  I managed to escape her and found myself in a hotel cities away. I dared not sleep and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. I called a friend who joined me, though thought I was crazy. Exhaustion finally came over me and I passed out.
  I the early morning light, I awoke to find my friend dead, bleeding out into the carpet and the doll standing before me, knife in hand, smiling.

Two deaths, the blind and the brushing of hair...

Dreams from night night of 4/1

First:
  My family (mom and dad that aren't mine IRL) and myself move to a very rural, middle of the woods town. Dad bought a little land that already had a single-wide mobile home on it and a small barn. New job for Dad and new start for all of us. A few days in to unpacking the town Mayor swings by to say hello and meet all of us. He seems a nice fellow with his short stature, sparse hair and ever receding hairline, though well fed per his waistline. He says he'll be back in a couple nights after we get more settled and bring a friend to ensure we get a proper welcoming to the town. With that he leaves.
  A couple nights go by and sure enough, the Mayor shows back up with another gentleman, very similar in looks to the Mayor though a bit shorter. They come up and make introductions, then ask that we join them out next to the barn. We all follow and stop on the far side next two the woods where once the yard light turns on, you see a couple of rebar cages. Dad didn't know what they were and had planned on taking them down and using the rebar as scrap, he just hadn't had a chance yet since we moved in. They were about 6 feet in height, circular with about 3 feet of width on the inside. The rebar cage had hinges soldered on so a door of the rebar could be opened and closed.
  The Mayor said it was tradition to have the ladies of the house stand within the cages while prayers are said for the family and gestured my mother and I forward. My mother, attempting to be a good hostess and go with the customs of the locals, moved forward and got into the cage where they closed the door. I, however, had a horrible feeling about this and made a run for it back into the house. Dad didn't seem too keen on it either and came forward to the Mayor who punched him hard enough to break his nose and added a few rib kicks to finish the job; Dad was unconscious. Mom, in her pretty summer red and white checkered sun dress, had been locked inside the cage with an old looking steel lock.
  Both the Mayor and his friend then came into the house looking for me. One can only hide so well in a single-wide trailer. I was found quickly and pulled up by my hair and moved into the middle of the living room. The Mayor then told me that this was all my fault and we had broken their traditions which are to rape the women in the town as it keeps the men obedient to them with the threat of that happening again always there. Crying and clawing a the mans arm holding my hair with me facing out from him, he seemed to not even notice and forced me to the floor. His friend then came up, kissed him, and started taking off his pants. Not giving a damn about my hair, twisted around losing a good chunk of hair and some scalp to deliver a very well placed right hook into the Mayor's friends face then punched the Mayor right in his jewels. Both went down. Looking around, I spotted Daddy's pistol and taking it from its holster, I shot the Mayor. And I kept shooting. I got 3-4 rounds into him before I dropped the gun and ran out the door back to the barn.
  Dad was just getting up and I told him we needed to get out of there and so he found some bolt cutters, got Mom out of the cage and we ran.

Second:
  I was at a convention; unsure of type, but there was definitely cosplay and gaming happening about everywhere. I had apparently pulled an all-nighter and was super tired. I had laid out a sleeping bag and a blanket on one of the benches of the game tables, using the sleeping bag as cushion and the blanket for warmth.
  I wake up in the dream when someone new enters the room. It'a a tall, skinny girl. Her hair is dishwater brown, not entirely brushed through, and over all she looks unkempt. The biggest thing you notice about her, though, is that she's blind. She wear no glasses of any kind to hide her milky-white eyes and uses a long cane to tap as she walks to avoid running into anything. Noticing that she seems to have no escort and the others in the room are just staring at her, I throw back my blanket and get up to help her. Modesty only seems to be a very minor concern for me though as I tug on my t-shirt which is the only thing I'm wearing aside from some black undies that I'm trying to help the t-shirt hide.
  I walk up to her and make introductions and offer to help her to a game table. She said she's very excited to play and was dropped off at the con so she could enjoy at her leisure. Sitting her on a bench about mid-room she's at a game where they're playing D&D and she exclaimed that it was her favorite and was very thankful for my assistance. I gave a stern look to the DM and other players with the clear understanding that they were to add her into the game or else and I went back to my bench for some more nap time.
  Unsure amount of time passes and I'm woken up by someone yelling my name telling me I needed to get over there to the game table the blind girl was at. Rather annoyed and trying to remember 'what girl', I quickly hide my annoyance with a smile and get back up, tugging at the back of my t-shirt to find she needs help rolling the dice because for some reason no one else at the table could be bothered to help her. Dice rolling commences.

Dream from the night of 4/2  I was different. What about me was different, I wasn't sure. But it was enough to draw a sizable lynch mob of African-America folks that had me cornered and were trying to kill me. Dress was more 60's/70's church-wear for them; never got a look at myself. We were out in public at a park and I had been backed up against a wall. The leader, a man with an incredibly loud screaming voice, was inches away from me telling the crowd what an abomination I was and how I must die. And the crowd was certainly eager and prepared. From pitch-forks to pistols, they weren't looking to just kill me once but ten times over.
  Waiting for that opportune moment when the leader leaned back in to scream about me, a mob-goer carrying a sword moved up next to him. My shoulders were pinned by people to the wall, but my arms were still free so I reached for the sword. Drawing it from its sheath, I plunged it straight into the heart of the leader. He looked rather shocked as the crowd silenced.
  Not wanting to stay and appreciate my work longer, I made a break for it through the crowd as the leader dropped, blood pooling around him as he died. The once angry mob then became a force of nature in pursuit of me. I ran quite literally as if my life depended on it. My feet took me into a less than savory neighborhood where most of the houses were run down and feeling drawn to a particular one, ran myself up to the door that was thankfully unlocked and let myself in. Turning around, I was not alone.
  No one here was familiar, but after giving the briefest of summaries of my situation, they began barricading the place. Furniture was taken outside to be used as cover if needed and all windows and doors were barred and blocked until the dimmest of light could only be see coming in through cracks in the barricades through yellow-tinted windows from years of dust and neglect.
  Getting a better look at my surroundings, this place was rotting from the inside out. It appeared to also have no electricity. Either the residents here were squatters or had been brought here for some gathering that I had interrupted. I was motioned by them to head upstairs, that their leader could be found there. The boards beneath my feet groaned in pain as I made my way up, disturbing both dust and cobwebs though the spiders seemed to mind little. At the top of the stairs was an open den area, covered in what were once rich carpets and plush furniture, now covered in mold and rot. The few people seated here gestured to a far door which then lead to another set of stairs.
  Going up one again I was stopped at the top by Logan, someone I only barely knew. His face showed both concern and annoyance, as if my intrusion had put him out a great deal. With a mob of incredibly angry people at my heels, I'm sure it had. He motioned me forward onto the landing  and lead me to a chair next to the stairs. He then motioned to a young woman (one of many) who was nearby and after disappearing for a moment, she returned with a hairbrush. Logan gestured for me to sit in the chair and though confused, I complied considering he was now my host and doing me a great service by protecting me.
  Then he proceed with long strokes to brush my thick, straight brown hair. With each I could feel my terror, my anger, my pain slowly melting away. Despite what was going out just outside the doors to the house, my fear was gone and replaced by a relaxation so deep I thought I would never move from that spot again.

In the eye of the beholder...

Summary of a rather creative dream from the night of 3/31:

  Krista was an artist since she could pretty much pick up a crayon. Whatever came to mind or things she saw, she could free hand anything in incredible detail; from three eyed-ravens to marvel characters. Still teenagers in High School, Krista and her friends manage with enough spare change to convince a tattoo shop to let them get inked with their favorite art from Krista's ever growing collection.
  Afterward the incredible grounding from various parents, it's HS and gaming as normal until until Tony gets frustrated at the roll of the dice during a roleplaying game. Slamming his fist in frustration on the solid oak game table, it splintered into two nearly even halves. Once the shock and awe wear off, everyone starts to come forward about strange things that they've been experiencing.
  Belle has had what she can only describe as "visions" and can sometimes hear what people are thinking/feeling; her tattoo was the three-eyed raven. Tony said he's felt stronger and faster starting a few days after getting inked; he had both the Hulk and Captain America on his arms. Rylan says she now feels the Force; her ink had Qui-Gon Jinn in his Jedi robes, green lightsaber in hand. Brandon, Rylan's boyfriend, felt the Force in a completely different way; his tattoo was of Darth Maul, duel red lightsabers ready to fight. Krista herself got inked as well with a thunderstorm brewing and any time she doesn't like the weather, she changes it; at will.
  But playing with the balance of nature is dangerous and draws the attention of those that would seek to harness her and the others newfound powers and find out how they're able to do what they can do and see what limits they can be pushed to. A storm is coming that none of them can stop and there's an evil feel to the wind. Krista's little sister, Sophie, hates the fact that her big sister and her friends all seem to now have super powers, but she has nothing. Krista tells her that she too has the same gift in her art that can cause these things to happen, but Sophie refuses to believe it and runs out just as a growing storm in the skies begins to unleash its wrath.
  Seduced by the promise of unlimited powers by the those who would take her sister and her friends by force, Sophie joins with them to capture those she once held dear. But in the end it turns out to be a race against time to keep both themselves and their families out of danger while trying to avoid what could be a fate worse than death.

Is it possible to have too many dreams?

No details to share, sadly. For the past few months I've honestly had so many dreams that I can't remember all the details and the little bits I do just wouldn't do them justice to share. But there hasn't been a single night that I haven't had at least one dream, if not more. Not sure what changed, but I'll take it. Just wish I could keep track of them all to share with you.

Bits

Apparently there was a REALLY good dream that my mind can't remember, but body sure does. After that something about cutting a book jacket down to size to fit a hard back novel. There was more, but details are lost.

Caravan

One to two hundred years ago. Caravan with horses and cats of goods. We were to be it's escort/security as the lowest bidders. Should we lost no one and no merchandise during our travels, we would get some kind of bonus or reward.

Dreams in the great white north

Not exactly having many. Bed that isn't mine and temps well below freezing that I've never experienced before. Lay night there was one abit either saving baby moose or watching them being born or both. But I can at least confirm baby moose. Beyond that, no recollection. Perhaps tonight will be better.

One of these is not like the other...

I tend to hate catch-up posts, but I figure better to post late than not post at all. First will be from a few days ago. Last night there were three.

Marinated dream from a few days ago (short since most details are gone):

  A Decker from Shadowrun is holed up with their deck and plugged into the Matrix within a VERY small mini-bunker. I say small because it's only big enough for them to be hunched over; not sitting up straight let along standing. Maybe 3' high and 6' long; they could have stretch out flat if they wanted to. But right then they had chosen hunched over painfully above their glowing rig. The view of this was like one of an ant farm where you can see the different chambers as if their home has been sliced in half.
  Above the Decker was another chamber of similar layout, though the dimensions were a bit bigger. My guess is maybe double the size so 6' height and 12' long. The smallest chamber that was currently housing the Decker was build underneath the larger chamber with a trap door that got you access. BOTH were build underground as shelters.
  Unfortunately the bad guys had found the Decker and were looking to take them out; with fire. The ant farm view allowed me to see a warehouse engulfed in flames with more fire being pumped in. The fire was pouring into the first level shelter, destroying what few things it held. Thankfully, the second level shelter was holding.
  In theory, if the place didn't collapse and bury the Decker, they would be able to get out later once the flames were gone. It was a risk, but for the moment they were alive. If the secret panel in the floor of the first shelter stayed hidden, the bad guys would come check out the aftermath if they could get to the first room and find it hidden; they would think the Decker got away or burned to ash.  If the Decker survived, they could keep a low profile to deck another day.

First dream from last night:

  A little setup: Post-apocalypse reenactment. It's something I'd been introduced to last year and haven't had a chance to go check out in person yet. The one I have some friends playing is Dystopia Rising. Pretty much post-apoc you are kind of whatever you want/need to be to survive. You band together or you don't, but chances are you'll do better keeping company with other humans. Last night, there were Zombies.
  This was my first time coming out and seeing what it was about. I went tactical gear since it was easy to get at Army surplus and you can never have too many pockets for things. I kept quiet and followed my friends to their camp and set up and tried to remain in the background, just watching and learning how things work. That afternoon, the group they were apart of held a meeting. Apparently they were frequented by zombie attacks and were trying to plan out their defense for the night.
  I listened to them for some time, arguing and bickering on how best to defend their camp against and enemy they knew would likely attack again and kill more people and no one would get rest. The folks in charge just didn't seem to be making executive decisions and telling folks how it was going to be and put them to work; I was kind of irked.
  Finally fed up with listening to them have choice paralysis, I stood up from the very back and spoke up, asking loudly why they not launch an offensive attack instead of a constant defensive which hadn't seemed to work out too well for them so far. The place went silent and all eyes turned to me. Mustering my confidence, I continued stating that if they knew where the zombies were during the day, why not make it their slaughter instead of ours? The camp definitely needed defenses left behind, but if we could attack the zombies now before they had a chance to make more, we could definitely put a dent in their numbers and perhaps they'd even think twice about attacking. Maybe. But at least we wouldn't spend the entire evening just cowering and waiting. We could take the fight to them and perhaps be rid of them; at least for awhile until others moved in to take their place. And if we have to, we fall back to the camp and defend, hopefully with some better tactical planning that they're used to.
  Again, silence and stares. The leader finally stood up from the maps and spoke, eyes locked on me. First I was asked who I was; not sure what name I gave. Second I was asked where I learned tactics from; believe I told him natural talent. Third he asked if I would be willing to lead this offensive since it was my idea and I told him absolutely. I wouldn't ever ask someone to go do something I wasn't willing to do myself. And if this helped them on their survival rate and someone actually managed to get some sleep that night, all the better.
  After a long, hard look he motioned me to come forward. The people parted for me and I approached the leader trying not to show how incredibly crazy I thought I was for even speaking up as I was new and had no right to chime in on their plans. I stopped before him and his Lieutenants, waiting for whatever was to come next. He motioned for me to sit and once seated, he said, "Ok, let us begin."

Second dream (only remember one creepy thing):

  Jack Nicholson was either the bad guy or just possessed. We had driven a rather large stake into his brain pan and he just kept grinning at us and laughing. Driving it further in and out the other side until the end of the stake was flush with his skull; no different response. The grinning and laughing never ceased and it was creepier than frak.

Third dream:

  I'm at my Grandparents house; the most magical place in the world to me. What appeared to be a moth had gotten through the back door into the breakfast room and Mom and Grandma were trying to kill it with one of those miniature sized no handle brooms. This "moth" was huge. Like elbow to wrist length. I walked in to this scene and told them very loudly to stop as it could be saved and just put outside where it could go about what was left of its life after their beating it. I took the mini-broom bristles and with it on the carpet, laid the bristles on top to keep it down and flat. I then reached under it, picking it up gently and once I had a good hold on it, I gave the broom back to Grandma and walked out onto the patio, taking a closer look at their "moth".
  In my hands out in the sunlight was no both, but what appeared to be a little person made of wicker. There were long robes and there were wings that were moth-like, but the face was made out of some clay or matte glass texture. Then it started moving and talking.
  I have no recollection of what it said to me, but I was mesmerized. I could not look away. The wicker form melted away until there was a little clay-ish man standing on my hand. For some reason, this word fairy stuck in my head. His clothes were out of the same material he currently appeared to be made of; kind of had a gnome look. His little lips kept moving as he stood on my left hand and I felt compelled to move my right hand to him; specifically right index finger. Then the damn thing bit me.
  It was just a little sting, but hard enough to draw blood. Unfortunately I could not pull away as it went in for a taste. Then everything really started to hurt. The skin on the finger it has bitten started to slough off and the entirety of my person began to turn tangerine orange. The fae took another bit into my finger, drawing even more blood and looking out I saw more of them, almost like little dolls in various states of dress over many ages of man. The little man in my hand was smiling as it looked up to me, still speaking. Pain was everywhere by now with what was left of my skin drying and cracking and breaking away to fall to the ground. The pain in the bite throbbed.

I awoke this morning to a weird tingly feeling in my right index finger and not a lot of touch feeling in it, though thankfully no bite marks and no blood.

A hero and a mentor

Two dreams:

  One where Jim was a WWII hero. Upon his return to the US he tells us how he singlehandedly thwarted the enemy by leaping from his plan to land on a huge missile and wrestle it off its trajectory. It explodes mid-air with him still attached to it, but somehow he stays intact without a scratch as his co-pilot flies beneath him and catches him before he reaches ground. A miracle they say. I do have to admit he looked pretty snazzy in that era uniform.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

  It's very early morning hours; still dark out and the Keep is silent. Calling it a house wouldn't quite convey the vastness of this place, though. My guide leads me through many rooms and many halls with enough turns to where like a maze, I'm sure I may never find my way out again. Before I arrived I was instructed to refer to him as Father, though upon meeting he resembles anything but a father figure. We pass through living quarters where pallets are lain on the floor for the residents. Feeling the presence of someone not of their collective, many peer up from their rest to watch as I pass. I'm sure they wonder why a female has been granted permission to come among them, but knowing all questions will be answered in time, they return to their slumber.
  After I feel extremely lost from where we began this journey, we come to a stop and I take in my new surroundings. Hardwood floors beneath my feet, though not a whisper from them as we've been walking. Thick, heavy curtains on distant windows in the massive chamber we now stand in; the first lights of dawn pressing against the curtains trying to fight back the darkness within.
  Before me is a small pallet of stacked blankets and Father gestures for me to sit. Given the wood floor base, the seat is surprisingly more comfortable than it had looked and I begin to relax. A few feet away my guide takes a seat across from me and in the dim light I get a better look at his features. Dressed in a long robe of black, he is covered entirely had to foot except his face. The heavy linen appears to protect him the chill that seems to emanate from the stone walls around us. Even a black hood adorns his head, framing a gaunt and sunken face. His features are striking with his skin appearing in this light to be an ashen grey with eyes sunken so far that only black holes show they were ever there at all. His head is long and narrow, lips matching color to his face so that they nearly blend in and can hardly be made out in his features. He waits patiently as I take in not only him but my new home.
  Closing my eyes, I nod respectfully to him letting him know I'm ready to proceed. Without a sound in the chamber, I hear in my head, almost feeling his deep voice resonate through my body, the question of 'Are you ready?'. Keeping the goosebumps under control and the silence unbroken, I reply mentally that I am.
  I have come here to train. To gain knowledge and wisdom beyond this age. To learn to control my powers over mind and earth. To find ways to not hurt others with my gift; or curse as it has been called most of my life. The Brethren in an unheard of moment of pity and perhaps also curiosity took me, a woman, in amongst their ranks. Never before has one such as I shown the gifts that for men they are quick to bring into their fold and save from the superstitious and cruel outside world.
  I have been told that learning anything here is a painful and dangerous prospect; not everyone survives the training. But I have to. I have seen what is beyond and I thirst for more. To see without eyes and feel realms open before me that I only dreamed existed. This is my one chance to come into myself. To find, greet and embrace a destiny I cannot fathom. I am ready to become whole.
  Closing my eyes, clearing my thoughts and stilling my body, I prepare for whatever my first lesson may be. I do not have to wait long. At instruction from Father, I open my eyes and concentrate on the open space between us. At first, nothing. Frowning, I force myself to a near painful stillness, focussing on the suave between. Satisfied, Father then tells me to open a Way. The slightest touch of fear enters me. I had only toyed with this on my own and it never ended well. Taking a deep breath, I send my will into the empty space separating us and call beyond. Ever so slowly, a pool of light begins to grow between us. The light is incredibly bright and hurts my eyes, but I dare not look away. The light pool grows to a few feet and I will it to stop and hold steady. Curiosity begins to build and I chance to sneak a peak within the pools depths to see what it holds. Unfortunately, this breaks my concentration on keeping the portal open. And just as in previous tries, it ends poorly.
  Pain begins to build and the calmness within and without begins to shatter. A piercing scream rips through the silence of the hall that I can not seem to quell. Doubt fills me and I curse myself for being weak and unworthy to have come here.
  Gently my now mentor places his hand on my head, whispering 'peace' within me. The pain is instantly gone, the screaming is silenced, and a drowning darkness begins to pull at me. The calm voice of my mentor fills me, telling me not to fight it. Easier said than done when you feel like you're drowning.
  As the last bits of consciousness fade away, his voice returns to me once more of 'You will do nicely. You're the one the Master had between waiting for.' Perhaps this was a thought only meant for him that I intruded on, but there was no time to ask or think upon it further. I had chosen my path and there was no going back.
  Releasing my fear, I wrapped the darkness around me like a warm blanket and slept a dreamless sleep. The sleep of one whose dreams now only resided outside sleep and only I could bring them to fruition. And I would. Of that I was certain.

One should never wait to post dream details

Because waiting means forgetting. And after 14 hours of sleep today from B letting me "sleep in", I had tons to share. Then the day kicked in for everything I hadn't gotten done so now I'm just getting back to you. And not with much.

Something with an old pistol. BI or BL initials on it. Stock and grip were a bit funky. Just larger than they should have been.

I was a princess of both Spring and Winter. I apparently did not want to be both, but had no choice. At one point a Knight of Spring managed to get into the Winter court and thinking we had managed to outwit the guards, he took my hand to speak with me and as he did, the white ice upon my skin began to melt and I turned a beautiful bronze. It started at my fingertips where he held them and worked up through my whole body until I stood there not in a gluten of white and ice, but one of green and brown forest colors and flowers in my hair. As soon as he let go, the warmth left me and the cold ice returned to my skin with the white gown.

Being stuck between two worlds always sucks, but sometimes you have to accept your fate to keep the balance.