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.