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.