A man I vaguely know is having dinner with a woman I dislike. He is a superhero of some sort, and I wish he would notice me. I am also in the restaurant, and the man is given a note from a woman. He goes into the kitchen, alarmed, and brings the woman back out to ask about the note. She explains that someone obtained a signature declaring that they can draw blood from all superheroes. The signature belongs to me – I am a sort of superhero, too, though I don’t know my powers or anything. I only have to glance at the signature to know that it isn’t mine – it’s signed very neatly, and with my nickname instead of my full name. The woman says that it doesn’t matter, that the man will still come to take blood samples, which is a big deal. The man and I go into the kitchen, which is now a headquarters for the superheroes. To make sure I can come and go, as I need to be a part of this, he draws a symbol on my sleeve – an M with an extra line coming off the end. It sounds like the superheroes are all depending on me, though none of them come out and actually say that. I find out who the man is who thinks he can take our blood. He has a book about the work he’s done on the most dangerous animals, so I takea large, heavy copy and begin to read it. Men who work for him come in after a while; I’m nervous so I leave, going outside to read. The book is fascinating and a bit scary – he’s done a lot of dangerous work and is very highly regarded. After a while a man comes out of the kitchen/headquarters and begins talking to me about a mission I’ll have to do. He’s soon joined by another two men who work for the blood drawer, who also have advice. Everyone begins by whispering and huddling together, but soon they are arguing, and I break free. Their advice is too confusing and I need time to think, so I begin to run. The jewelry I am wearing slips from me – a bracelet and rings – and my shoes slip off, and soon I am able to run faster than before. I run into familiar woods, back as far as I can go, where the path becomes overgrown and the trees thick, until i come to a tiny house where I go to think. The floors are wet, and at a first I think it’s because there has been flooding, but then an old man I know – a servant of some kind – comes back and says he’s been cleaning. We talk briefly, and I ask him a question about his family. He grows somber and says that the less someone like me knows about him and his family, the better. I am devastated – I’ve known this man for a long, long time – but after he leaves I grow somewhat angry. Why is he being like that? I just want to find the man who forged my signature and stop him from taking blood. The old man comes back and begins destroying my books, saying that I should know better than to get involved, and i run out of the shack, unsure of what I can do to help anyone.
I haven’t written here in a long, long time, but this dream was so interesting that I couldn’t help myself.
I’m in a bicycle race with my mother and brother – we do this every year, biking from our home to the tip of the state. It’s an intense race, where speed matters, and my legs burn constantly. It takes three days to complete, and involves a lot of city biking. The first two years, I win – once, just barely. The third year, though, I struggle to find the correct path – you have to take specific roads, and the person who usually gives us directions is gone, replaced by someone who admits that they send us going in the wrong direction just to keep it interesting. My mother and brother, who had been far behind, catch up, and I can’t seem to find the right path, and begin to panic. They come back and find me, because they do want me to be able to finish the race, but even they cannot find the right path.
No updates in a long while, I know… I just haven’t felt much like blogging.
I’m visiting home, and at one point I’m in the car with my mother. We drive down a hill, to the right of which is all land owned by my family, which I see has been developed. Instead of forest and pastureland, there are now wind harvesters (high-tech windmills), a large factory to keep them up-to-date, and, further on, a children’s park. The trees are all gone, and the ground has been flattened. I am furious, so much that I cannot speak.
I’ve been terrible about posting here lately. There just doesn’t seem to be enough time, even when I have vividly remembered my dreams. This one, however, stuck in my memory enough that I remembered part of it over an hour later – hence, a post.
I’m in an apartment in which it seems I live, along with three or four other roommates. We’re just hanging out and having a good time when someone bursts in the door – it’s the girl whose job I took over, along with a big, burly man. They apologize, but begin taking all of our stuff: TVs, games, money, jewelry, and anything else of value. They’re picky, though; for instance, they take game controllers, but not the systems themselves. The apartment is a mess, and they have the gall to stay around and chat. Others followed in after them, including a group of three small boys who want to come and look around at what they could take from my room. My game controllers and some of my other precious things have already been nabbed, though, and I won’t let them inside. Finally everyone leaves, but when I go to call the police, my phone is missing – stolen, likely. Someone else calls, and I realize: I don’t know where my laptop is. I begin freaking out, because that has so many important things on it. I begin sobbing, and the burly man who robbed us with my former co-worker – he seems like a nice guy, and apologized a lot – helps me look. He finds it under a chair, with my sweater wrapped around it, and I’m so relieved I begin crying again.
I finally decided to watch Game of Thrones [which, I’ll mention now, I know little to nothing about in waking life], and sat down for the first season. Arya is running around, frightened, and gets onto a ship – either an airship or a normal water ship. She has adventures on the boat, searching for either her parents or a lover, and spends the entire season of the show on this huge ship, which is at least a mile long and full of people. I’m surprised, because I didn’t know that Arya was the main character of the show. The season ends, and a few friends join me to watch. I go ahead and start the next season, which begins in a castle. A mother watches as her two daughters enter the room. She greets them, calling them her daughters; one, the shorter, responds, while the taller one turns to leave the room. The mother yells, and servants hold the tall daughter down on a table. The mother greets her again, and the girl yells that she isn’t a girl. A servant pulls out a pair of scissors, but the mother shakes her head, and the girl calms down, greets her mother, and is let up to go. I realize that this is Joffrey, and that he is transgendered. He follows his father into a back room, and when he is turned, Joffrey takes a gun and shoots him in the arm. He then puts the empty gun into his father’s hands and calls for a servant. The servant comes and freaks out, holding the father, who is dying from the wound – a slow, agonizing death. He finally is gone, and Joffrey disappears. He emerges from a room with shorn hair, wearing men’s clothes, and smiling wickedly.
I seriously only know what I do about Game of Thrones from the few gifsets I’ve ever come across. Am I close to the plot at all? (Probably not, I know!)
Apparently, my blog has not been saving my posts – all that’s saved are the tags. I have no clue why this was happening, and a quick Google search comes up with a host of posting issues, none of which are mine. I’m frustrated beyond belief; the reason I write these down right in the morning is because I forget entirely what happened later in the day. Even just looking at the tags isn’t enough for me to go back and try to rewrite them. I’m going to leave the old posts up, and maybe mark a few notes, but it looks like those dreams are all gone. Thanks a lot, wordpress.
(To be fair, I’m also not going to go through the trouble of making a new blog elsewhere; I’m just going to have to be more careful here, I suppose.)
This is the third of three posts that were lost, so my memory is sketchy at best. Here’s what little I can remember of this dream:
I work a desk job on a large ship. One day a friend comes to see me, and we talk. She gets up at one point and I find a picture in a yearbook of her introducing someone important at an awards show. I call her over to show her, but lose the page. Though I’m able to find it again relatively quickly, she gets mad, lecturing me on how I’m wasting her time by searching for the page when I should have had it ready by the time she walked over. I’m hurt, and go back to my desk, where I find a wooden music box which plays “Epilogue to Good Friends,” from Chrono Trigger, when opened. Inside are three small, lovely rings. I ask a woman at another desk who they’re from, and she responds that someone left the box there, calling it a birthday present. I go in search of my friend, but have to duck into a closet to hide from someone walking by – possibly my brother, or his ghost. I keep seeking my friend, but cannot seem to ever find her.