Dream Log Psi: Rain, Trains, and Anthropomorphic Personifications

I needed a job. Someone suggested that I look for work as assistant to some high up businessman at a particular company. When I went to apply, the man failed to meet my expectations. He looked business like, but he spoke like a tactless hound dog.

"I need my assistants to follow me around, carry all my stuff, make calls, open doors for me, and give me blow jobs once a day."

"Yeah...I'm not giving anyone a blow job," I informed him. He decided the interview was over at that point, so he left the office to go home. I followed because that was the direction I had to go anyway. As we walked, a glance out the window revealed that thick storm clouds had completely filled the sky. Lightning flickered ominously. "Awesome," I breathed, "today isn't a total loss."

"What are you talking about?" the man demanded, "You actually like storms?"

"Of course! They're powerful and beautiful. They're the deadly big sisters of life giving rain. Isn't that incredible?"

He stared at me for a second, face inscrutable, before handing his suitcase to me. "You'll be my assistant. We can skip the sexual favors, but try to keep up with me." With that, he turned on his heal and swept down the hall to the elevator, me half jogging after him.

For a while, I simply carried his stuff and opened doors and waited for him to come out of meetings like I had expected to do. We became gradually more friendly and less formal with one another, though it was more a fatherly relationship than anything else. One day, as we were heading to his car, I noticed something on the ground of the parking garage right by the exit ramp. Without getting my employer's attention or permission, I hustled over to investigate. Lying there in a dirt stained blue dress, was an unconscious woman. I checked for a pulse and found one. She was breathing as well and had no visible injuries, but I could not for the life of me get her to wake up. I left her for a moment to call for help and to block a car from driving down the ramp. Eventually, a few other people came along and got her out of the path of cars and called 911. I hurried back to my businessman and hopped into my seat.

"And where were you?"

"A woman was passed out on the exit ramp in the way. I got some people to move her and wait for paramedics."

"Oh, well that's okay then."

We drove off, and through shenanigans that I cannot recall became embroiled in a religious extremist plot to blow up a train. At least, that is what we though they intended to do. The two of us were stuck on the train, waiting for the extremists to reach our car so that we could knock them unconscious. It did not work. They arrived, but when I went to hit them in the head with a mallet, they simply shrugged it off and set about packing boxes of food into the empty seats. The leader of the group, a middle eastern boy about 12 years old, asked that I come forward and learn his great purpose. He spoke in metaphors and meaningful looks, so I was never sure if I got his meaning or not. As far as I could tell, he believed that his father, who had recently gone missing, was God and that they could reestablish contact with him by going to a special location. I was familiar with his father, Ali Haddad, a man even smugger and more vague than his son.


I fell asleep on the train ride. The next thing I knew, we had reached the special, secluded location. The men and women were setting up the food, but I could not help noticing how little there seemed to be of it. It would last a day or two with so many people, and the boy-leader had no intentions of leaving the compound. Suspicion slithered through me. Curse you, Ali Haddad. Where are you? I though to myself.

I'm right here.

I nearly jumped out of my shoes. Had I imagined the voice that had just rumbled through my head? Or was something stranger going on? One possibility crossed my mind and turned my blood to ice; did the train crash after all? Was I already dead? I tried to dismiss the notion, but it was no mean feat.

I turned my attention back to the food. They had laid out a meal comprising dumplings wrapped in tacos, wasabi watermelon, and apples. I skipped the watermelon. When I got to my apple, it tasted somewhat off. Looking at the half eaten fruit, I could see rice sized insects burrowed in the apple flesh. A woman eating a ten pound apple called them armored caterpillars. I called them disgusting, threw the apple away from me, and insisted that the dream be something else. So it was.

The endless were dying, and it was okay. They accepted it. It had to happen. Death was the first one to go, but she was replaced quickly by a more classical death complete with hood and scythe. The new Death remarked, "It was a strange feeling to die. It usually works the other way around." Delirium died next, replaced by no one. Then went Desire, Despair, Destiny, Destruction. No one took their places. I went to Dream and asked him what was happening.

"Do not worry. What we represent will always live on, but humans do not need us anymore. They can cultivate their own desires and despairs, their own destiny and destruction, their own delirium and of course their own dreams. Death remains because humans have not yet outgrown her... or rather him now. Come," he gently commanded, rising to the size of a mountain, "It is my time."

He carried me in his palm to a patch of woods with trees as large as him. He pushed deeper into the forest, every step a little slower than the last. He finally reached a patch with five trees that, if you squinted, look almost like people. Here, he put me down. I could see then why his pace had slowed so much. Vines and roots had wrapped around his ankles, not violently, but firmly enough. The vines continued to rise. Dream's clothing disappeared under the foliage, or perhaps it became it. I could not tell. At last, Dream lifted his arms to the risen moon and surrendered himself. Millennia of grief and exhaustion fell away, replaced by pure peace before he turned to wood completely. That was the end of Dream.

Dream Log Something or other: Crime

The copper pair of Detective Inspector Lewis and Detective Sergent Hathaway from a British show had been called in to investigate a crime at some swanky event in the country. I was never quite clear on what the event was, but it required a mansion, members of a royal family (not Britain's), and hot air balloons. The detectives got right to work. They made their way to the room where the body had been found, but the door proved problematic. Lewis could shove it part way open, but then it slammed closed again. His second attempt succeeded, and the pair rushed into the room with guns raised. A bullet riddled body lay on the ground in a pool of blood. A Jewish looking gentleman peered over the corpse and took photographs while giggling to himself. Chaos ensued as the policemen chased the gleeful man about. Somehow, they ended up outside again. They forced the door open again, but in the few seconds that took, the man had somehow hoisted the body up into a noose slung over some exposed rafters. When he noticed the policemen again, he whipped out a cardboard sign with a name on it and chanted the name while staring Lewis in the face. Then, he leaped out of the window. Lewis turned to charge down the stairs after the man, but Hathaway had leveled his gun at him.

"I can't let you go sir," he asserted, "you have to answer for your crimes."

"What crimes? Blimey, the man that tampered with the body is getting away!"

"I'm not falling for any of that. The people who've seen this crime scene are us, and it isn't your first time coming here. Is it?"

"Hathaway, do you see the bullet holes in the wall over there behind me? I'm going to take the cartridge out of my gun and show you that it's full. I couldn't have shot this man. You're under some kind of spell"

After Hathaway examined the cartridge, he started to lower his gun. His memory returned, and his ears turned bright red out of embarrassment. The partners fled after the strange man, but by then he was long gone.

Long gone for the detectives anyway. Not for the 10 year old version of myself that was wandering the grounds waiting for my parents to be done with the event. By this time, the weird man had shrunken to the size of a leprechaun. When he saw the young version of me, who was equal to him in height, he became rather curious. He snuck behind me, scurrying from tree to tree until we were far from any adults. Only then did he reveal himself. It seemed he had a task that needed doing, and due to my tiny size, he decided to delegate that task to me. I was not interested. Then, he whipped out the sign again. This time, he did not say anything. He simply waved it in my face for a while. For some odd reason, reading Herr Gustav McFinnigan compelled me to do as the leprechaun said.

He then handed me a somewhat gnarled wooden baton and commanded me to give it to the crown prince before his race. I wasn't really down with the whole "give potentially cursed items to royalty" thing, but the longer I took to deliver the item, the more inexplicably terrified and anxious I became. Eventually, I managed to huddle behind a pillar while the prince and one of his friends took baths in separate, elaborate bathtubs. The prince reminded me strongly of Eridan Ampora if you gave him social skills. I, as a ten year old girl, felt rather uncomfortable about walking up to a bathing man and handing him something that would likely kill him. I managed though and promptly curled up in a ball in a corner far away from the rest of the world.

Then, everything changed (when the fire nation attacked). I was wandering through sketchy subway systems with random industrial style elevators with a bunch of friends until Barney from "How I Met Your Mother" came along and took my geeky, conservative friend out on a date. That was pretty much that.

Dream Log Psi: Change in Perspective

Food vendors filled the hallways of some generic academic building. I saw cookies and cakes and puddings and ice cream everywhere I looked. Insatiable cravings plagued me. Try as I might, I could not shake the desire for a chocolate chip cookie. At last, I gave in and purchased one at least 6 inches in diameter. I snuck back to my room and nibbled it dejectedly under the covers. Its chocolate was delicious, but the guilt put a bitter taste in my mouth.

When I had finished, I made my way back to the vendors. However, not long after I returned, a queer sensation coursed through me. Something within me was changing, and I did not know what. Fortunately for me, the young man that appeared out of nowhere and insisted that I follow him to his car before the transformation finished seemed to know what was going on.

"Have you been following me?" I accused as he led me off.

"A bit yeah. Be glad I did," he replied. A driver pulled a black sedan up to the building exit. The man
buckled me into the backseat, wrapped me in a blanket, popped into the passenger seat, and we were off.

"Would you please tell me why I'm in your car?" I muttered, struggling against sudden grogginess.

"You're turning into a vampire. If we don't get you to a coven quickly, there'll be hell to pay."

It all made sense. After all, not reporting a fledgling vampire to a coven would be like having a baby and not reporting the birth. The only difference is the baby sucks blood. I went on to ramble incoherently for half an hour or so in a sleepy delirium.

"I should probably stop talking, shouldn't I?"

"That would be nice," snipped the man. Another half hour passed, this time in silence. "Look, I didn't mean to offend you. You didn't have to stop completely."

"It's fine. I was just wondering, why help me when I might try to drink you?"

"If you were lost, and a talking hamburger could give you directions, would you eat it? Anyway, we're almost there. When we get inside, there will be lots of people that aren't vampires wandering around just to confuse us. Vampires are notoriously antisocial, so you won't see a group of 30 or more of them just hanging around. Wait until we've gone as deep down and as far away from crowds as we can before saying anything about what you are."

We climbed out of the car in front of a large, old fashioned building. The man guided me inside where a crowd of men in golden robes huddled around a table, discussing either stocks or battle plans. We swept past them and took a long spiral staircase down into the building's bowels. The number of people decreased along with our anonymity. By three flights down, the people we did see made it quite clear that they saw us too. One elegant man on his way up rushed towards me, a sadistic grin exposing his pointed teeth. I held my ground. When he reached our step, he realized that I did not have a drop of blood in me. I smiled back, exposing fangs of my own. After he had passed, I turned excitedly to my mortal guide, whispering "Oh my gosh! That was another vampire!"

"Yes, it's wonderful. Keep going."

At long last, we reached the basement where an elaborate tent like that of some medieval king had been set up. A distinguished looking man dressed all in dark blue stepped out of it to greet us.

"No one around, deep underground, fancy tent. Are you the head vampire?" I asked.

"Indeed I am. You must be newly turned. It is a pleasure," he replied, then spoke to my companion, "Thank you for bringing her to us. You may go. I promise you safe passage." The man said goodbye and hurried away, leaving me with the vampire king. "When did you become a vampire, my dear?"

"Like an hour ago. Heck, I haven't even drunk blood yet," I answered, smiling uncontrollably. I was completely geeking out.

"Ah, where are my manners! Come inside. I'd be honored to mix you a drink." We went inside the tent, and he set about squeezing fruit juice and dropping berries into a chalice of blood.

"I thought vampires couldn't have anything besides blood."

"And who told you such nonsense? A cat is a carnivore, but it can enjoy apples. We are sanguivores," he explained as he scooped the stuff that makes sour gummies sour into the drink, "but we have a taste for the exotic." I accepted the chalice and drank without hesitation.

"Wow! That's fantastic!" I exclaimed. The king took a seat across from me, and smiled all too knowingly. "What's that face about?" I asked.

"Oh, you will make an excellent vampire."

Slightly disconcerted but excited nevertheless, I dove into a conversation on vampire covens. At some point, we left the tent to meet other vampires. The next time I went into the tent, it had changed. Wet, twisted ropes of linen were piled up in one corner for no apparent reason. Books and maps lined the walls. When I started to ask what had happened, I found myself face to face with a scruffy haired boy about my age.

"My dad says you can stay in this tent as long as you like. We have some snack if your hungry," he offered. Dream logic told me that not only was he the son of the vampire king, but the vampire king was now a werewolf and so was I and everyone else. We chowed down together on beef and raw oysters while the werewolf king and some advisers planned an attack on the vampire coven, which apparently still existed, just somewhere else.

Suddenly, an enormous group of color coded werewolves tried to attack the tent to overthrow the king. The prince, the king, and the advisers all slipped off their robes, went into werewolf form, and faced their opponents outside. I had to hang back before taking my clothes off so I could shape shift. My life might have been in danger, but that's hardly a reason for immodesty. When I finally got outside, I realized that we were all actually Live Action Role Playing. The attacking werewolves were pieces of paper that our characters had to flip over to indicate we had killed them. As soon as the battle ended, a bunch of the red, green, blue, and yellow factions had been taken prisoner, and I got dressed, everything became reality again instead of a game.

Before long, the king received a threatening message from the head vampire. "We are coming for the vampire werewolf's ring. The only safe hiding place for it is in her memories. Muahahaha!" Surprise surprise, I was the vampire werewolf. I looked at my hands, and sure enough, I had a silver ring. In retrospect, that should have killed me, being a werewolf and all.

"I don't understand," I gasped, "I distinctly remember taking the ring off and leaving it somewhere in the vampire camp."

"I've got it!" cried the King, "The vampire said it's only safe in your memories, right? It must be that you have a psychic connection to the ring and can summon it to you if you displace it. Maybe you can send it away somewhere else too!"

"That explains the damp towels!" realized the prince. No one else followed. "We can use them to spell a word as a channel for her. For instance, the vampires think we're savages. So we should spell that out and have her send it that way!"

It made as much sense as anything else. The problem was, we could not figure out how to spell savages. After attempting schaveges, scafages, scavages, safadges, and others, I got fed up with it and looked in one of the many dictionaries inside the tent. Apparently, the werewolves were almost entirely illiterate.

Then, I woke up...sort of. I scurried off to class and ran into a fellow classmate on the way.

"Hey, I just wanted you to know that I decided to write my analysis paper on your vampire king character."

"Really? I'm flattered. I just dreamed up some more to the story last night, so I can give it to you if you need it."

"Wait, that's all coming from dreams? Dang girl, how do you get so lucky?"

At that point, I noticed a federal agent trailing us, or more specifically me. "Hang on, Mickie. I've got to do something before I forget." I whipped out my phone, ran a quick program, and smirked when the agent's earpiece exploded. I knew that whatever machine the earpiece had fed back to had also taken a hit. A day or so later, someone in the FBI sauntered into the office of a man at the end of his rope.

"I heard the girl got you demoted," he jibed.

"I'm not demoted! I've just been...down played."

"Yeah, tell that to your paycheck. See you around."

Dream Log Upsilon: Departmentstores & Dragons

Surfing the internet. There are few things simultaneously mind numbingly boring and absolutely addictive, but the internet pulls it off. In all my time mucking about, I came across only one picture in all that time that really seemed worth my time. It had two halves. On the left side, it showed Uncle Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender with a flame red dragon poking its head out on one side and its tail and lower body curled protectively around Iroh. On the other side of the picture, Mako from Legend of Korra played with a dragon actually made from flame. It struck a chord in me.

However, I did not have time to dwell on it. People had said something on the chat program I'd left open. I gave it a look and was surprised to see that one of the boys had opened a private channel with me. When I read what he had typed, my head started to spin.

"Hey, so I know that when it comes to hook ups, you haven't had anyone closer to your 'stage' than the balcony seats. But I'm going to ask anyway. Do you think I could at least sit in the front row?"

"Umm.....what? Where is this even coming from?"

"Well-" he proceeded to type something or other that may have been an explanation, may have been another entreaty to fool around. I sort of ignored it and opened a channel with everyone else in the chat to beg for help. As I tried to hold myself together, a little voice in my head whispered to me.

"This is a dream. There is no way he would ask that, and he definitely wouldn't use a theater metaphor if he did. Relax. This is simply an expression of your desire for attention due to your crushing lack of self worth. There are healthier ways to deal with those problems than in dreams with boys you are not even interested in. Do yourself a favor and change the dream. "

Just like that, the dream changed. Everyone in the chat sans the would be booty caller appeared in a department store. I forgot once more that it was a dream. As a result, a friend and I started to chase each other around for no good reason. We then raced to see who could find the coolest necklace. He went straight for the sparkly stuff, but I wandered a bit further away and discovered a steel and glass dragon amulet. Needless to say, I won. Our group grew ever more reckless until someone reminded us that the store chain was instrumental to our plot to take over the world. That got us to calm down. At least until I found a coat with a cape and my friend found a strapless cocktail dress he could pull over his sweater vest. Then there was no stopping us.

Dream Log Gamma Prime: Poachers

Somehow I had stumbled across a group of fish poachers working out of a nearby river. I observed them for a few days just to gather information, figure out how many of them there were, what their cars looked like, etc. Going to the police for this never really crossed my mind. Instead, I confronted them. I informed them that what they were doing was wrong, and if they did not stop, I would expose them. Fortunately, I had enough sense to keep my distance while telling them this because as soon as I turned to retreat into the trees, they started to follow me. I had broken into a cold sweat by the time I had reached my car. The men following me backed off when they saw me in the vehicle, but only so they could get in their cars to continue pursuit. I streaked off towards the nearest proper road. To get home, I had to turn left, but the road looked so busy, waiting for an opening would make me a sitting duck. I swerved right at the first opportunity and commenced a terrifyingly real feeling drive. I floored it, swerving between lanes and leaving a chorus of honking horns in my wake. I took corners practically on two wheels. I slipped in and out of alleys, praying that they were not dead ends. The men remained in my rear-view mirror until at last, I charged into another wooded area, sped down a dirt path, and literally crashed through some bushes onto the main road. This time, I was going in the correct direction, and I did not take my foot off of the accelerator until I had returned safely home.

Upon arrival, I discovered that one of the history teachers from my high school had dropped by. He greeted me, and for once his too blue eyes and dizzying tallness made me feel safe instead of unnerved. If the poachers found me, they would have to face this man's stare. I had no doubt about who would win. The teacher explained that he had come to clear up some confusion about a device called a powerbook, which was required for school. People had taken it into their heads that it was a piece of hardware like an e-reader. Apparently, that was not the case. Rather, it was software that you could download into everything from a desktop to a digital camera. It worked like powerpoint, but for creating portfolios instead of presentations. I felt so relieved I hadn't bought one of the tablet e-reader things before finding this out. Those tablet things are expensive!

The class began, though I'm uncertain if any time passed or if we just appeared in a lecture hall and got to work immediately. It all seemed fairly mundane. The subject fluctuated between modern physics, economics, and theater. Whatever the subject, I seemed to enjoy it; I had finished the first major assignment before the teacher had officially assigned it. After the class announcing the project, I went home to reflect on the topics we had discussed. For one reason or another, this included me plugging and unplugging electronics from wall outlets. I did not do anything with the electronics themselves. I just stared at the plugs. Then things got weird.

First, I found myself in an abandoned quarry, along with a few of my favorite teachers. Then, I noticed that the poachers had arrived. They leaped into the quarry bottom with superhuman strength, and a battle commenced. Lights swirled around the teachers, a different color for each of them. One poacher tried to punch a history teacher, but he rocketed out of reach, propelled by a column of yellow light. Another teacher glowed blue and seemed to have harnessed particle wave duality to his advantage. He seemed harmless when you looked at him, but turn your back and you would find yourself pummeled from all sides until you looked at him again and noticed he had appeared on the other side of the quarry. Unfortunately, not all the poachers went after the teachers. One headed straight for me. Without knowing what to do, I made a hand motion like pulling something apart. The next thing I knew, the poacher's body hovered near one of my hands, and his skeleton hovered by the other. I flipped.

"NO! GO BACK TOGETHER! HOW DO I FIX THIS!? GAHHH!!!!!!!!!!"

I slammed my hands back together and hoped. The two portions of the man squished together and miraculously healed back into one understandably horrified person. The poacher collapsed to the ground shaking. I calmed down for a second before realizing that another one was coming my way. This time, I had an idea. I ran straight towards the new aggressor, pantomimed pushing down, which propelled me up and over him. He jumped to meet me, but I clasped both hands over my head and swung them down like a hammer. Purple light cracked from my hands, thudding into his chest, beating him into the ground, and sending an amethyst shock wave out in all directions. I fell back to earth and rolled to the ground. The fight had ended, and most of the teachers had wandered off. My history teacher however remained.

"That was some pretty powerful magic," he commented to me, "Was that your first time?"

"Yes, actually."

"Well, I'm going to teach you how to use that stuff. Get on my back and hold on tight. We need to go to proper training grounds."

I did as he asked, yellow light fizzed into life around him, and we shot into the sky and through the other side. Yes, we were flying through space.

"where are we going? The moon?"

"Of course not. The moon doesn't have any air. We have to go to another solar system."

"But that will take years, and we didn't bring any food! We didn't even bring water!"

"Really? We're flying through space using nothing but yellow sparkles and you're worried about food and water?"

I had nothing to say to that. Apparently neither did my brain, for that is when I woke.

Dream Log i: Those Freaking Robots

My family was preparing for some big event, and not just my family. A number of rather prominent families had gathered together for the event. One of these families had an elementary school aged daughter and an android, both of which I had to keep occupied and out of the way during the preparations. I was less than thrilled. After all, I had important FIRST Robotics Competition work to do.

At some point, one of the hundreds of adults running around bumped into the android. The two grabbed at one another to maintain their balance. The man moved on after a hurried apology, but the android did not brush the contact off. Its entire attitude changed. It began to talk.

"oh no bro were in this together now you get a fist full of cool kid and youd better be ready for more"

"What's wrong with the android?" the man asked me.

"I don't...hang on. That sounds like someone I know," I mused, examining the robot more closely.

"another flighty broad fallen madly in love with my ironic greatness" the android droned. My eyes widened, and I whipped around to look at the man who had started this. He had a scratched disk design on his red shirt. My suspicions were confirmed.

"Sir, you're wearing a Dave Strider shirt," I pointed out.

"yeah, so?"

"The robot- he started talking like Dave after grabbing your shirt!" I exclaimed. The man did not share my excitement. He hurried off, leaving me to try and figure out how to reverse what had happened to the robot. Helpless, I lay my hand on its shoulder and willed it to go back to normal. It worked.

"Wow, that was so cool!" shouted the little girl that I had almost forgotten about, "we should see if we can do it again!"

We could. It turned out, if the android placed his palm on another person's bare skin, he would assume their exact appearance and mannerisms. If he placed a hand on a symbol of someone, he'd just get the personality as he did with the Dave shirt. I was the only one who could snap him out of his altered state. Unfortunately, the android got a bit excited by all this and decided to wander off and experiment. Tracking down a shape changer is...problematic. Try explaining to a stranger that you have to put your hands on them to see if they're a renegade robot. They are not particularly cooperative. Eventually, the girl and I had to return to the event center to attend whatever the big event was. We took our seat in time to see my former trumpet teacher singing a grandiose solo as part of the opening ceremonies. At least, it was supposed to be a solo. The android came on stage disguised as my teacher. In true "show must go on" spirit, the two sang a lovely duet while they glared at one another. They quit saying the proper words and instead argued with one another to the melody. Imagine the following sung to Pachelbel's canon.

"I am the true Mark Beth!"

"If that were so, why are you always so horribly sharp!"

"That is a lie, I am not sharp!"

I got to the stage and converted the android back to normal before a fistfight broke out. Some time later, I discovered that I could not only will the android out of a disguise, but I could will him into one. I exploited this to make the best darn Eridan you've ever seen for a Homestuck cosplay group.