01-23-2019, 02:11 PM
Ironically, as the red flowers coax Panthera and I to sleep, the dreamweaver becomes the dreamer.
Stranger things have happened, that is for certain; a demon has portalled itself into this dimension from another using my powers as a host, I have transferred a fetus from my body to another's, and a plethora of other things which, in comparison to these, are lost to my psyche. It starts slow, so as to trick me into believing that I am still awake - but I am not that naive, and immediately identify the tale-telling signs of a dreamscape, though they are more hidden than mine were at the beginning of my dreamweaving.
The arrogant smirk on my face at having figured out the puzzle so quickly disappears rather quickly when I stop focusing on my peripheral vision and actually gaze ahead. Whoever is controlling this dream must have sensed my cockiness, and has cleared sped up the process; this is the point at which I become a little scared, because in my dreams, shit like this can actually kill you. Which is why the tornado which snakes into the sky before me, writhing blackly and angrily, causes me to scream for my cat, half rearing in terror and fleeing to a safer position. From where we are standing now, the pull of the wind nearly catapults us into its hungry depths.
As the tornado swirls viciously near the center of the Pampas, Panthera and I gallop across the border of the land, slicing inward very narrowly when we sense that we can. The lighting would be bad, but I have dreamt us a light to light our path, and so we maneuver through any obstacles more easily than others might have - not that others are facing the same natural disaster, I realize with a sickened lurch of stomach. I push the thought aside, panic now rising in my breast as the tornado's wind picks up to a threatening howl - but just as I am about to give up hope, I spot it.
Dashing in unison to our right, Panthera and I slip into a equine-made hole in the ground. Perhaps I had dreamt it myself, or perhaps magicians had come through here; at any rate, what may have been their form of amusement now serves as our form of protection. Once safely tucked into the cramp below-ground space, I shine my light and see that only dirt surrounds us. Taking initiative, I reinforce the top of the ground such that it shan't collapse upon us, and then I ungraciously pack the bottom with lead, so that the tornado's force cannot pick us up. At the mouth of the hole, I place a forcefield of light, such that no debris will enter and harm us.
It is nice, to be a dreamweaver in a nightmare. I reflect on this with Panthera as we both crouch, listening to the tornado overhead. It's disconcerting, and I believe I will be having more nightmares about this soon; but for now, I clutch my familiar, and pray for the best.
We awaken sometime later, unharmed but sufficiently ruffled.
word count: 521
Stranger things have happened, that is for certain; a demon has portalled itself into this dimension from another using my powers as a host, I have transferred a fetus from my body to another's, and a plethora of other things which, in comparison to these, are lost to my psyche. It starts slow, so as to trick me into believing that I am still awake - but I am not that naive, and immediately identify the tale-telling signs of a dreamscape, though they are more hidden than mine were at the beginning of my dreamweaving.
The arrogant smirk on my face at having figured out the puzzle so quickly disappears rather quickly when I stop focusing on my peripheral vision and actually gaze ahead. Whoever is controlling this dream must have sensed my cockiness, and has cleared sped up the process; this is the point at which I become a little scared, because in my dreams, shit like this can actually kill you. Which is why the tornado which snakes into the sky before me, writhing blackly and angrily, causes me to scream for my cat, half rearing in terror and fleeing to a safer position. From where we are standing now, the pull of the wind nearly catapults us into its hungry depths.
As the tornado swirls viciously near the center of the Pampas, Panthera and I gallop across the border of the land, slicing inward very narrowly when we sense that we can. The lighting would be bad, but I have dreamt us a light to light our path, and so we maneuver through any obstacles more easily than others might have - not that others are facing the same natural disaster, I realize with a sickened lurch of stomach. I push the thought aside, panic now rising in my breast as the tornado's wind picks up to a threatening howl - but just as I am about to give up hope, I spot it.
Dashing in unison to our right, Panthera and I slip into a equine-made hole in the ground. Perhaps I had dreamt it myself, or perhaps magicians had come through here; at any rate, what may have been their form of amusement now serves as our form of protection. Once safely tucked into the cramp below-ground space, I shine my light and see that only dirt surrounds us. Taking initiative, I reinforce the top of the ground such that it shan't collapse upon us, and then I ungraciously pack the bottom with lead, so that the tornado's force cannot pick us up. At the mouth of the hole, I place a forcefield of light, such that no debris will enter and harm us.
It is nice, to be a dreamweaver in a nightmare. I reflect on this with Panthera as we both crouch, listening to the tornado overhead. It's disconcerting, and I believe I will be having more nightmares about this soon; but for now, I clutch my familiar, and pray for the best.
We awaken sometime later, unharmed but sufficiently ruffled.
word count: 521
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dreamweaver