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.