Dreams of Weavers and Shoggoths...
Jan. 5th, 2004 03:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolven7Continuation from Yesterday's dreams. Same feel, same feeling of weirdly hollow... Things.. Like going through motions.. Butthings change, in this one.
Starting in a field, with Ben, and his girlfriend. There is a Training exercise, going on, because there is a war for which we all need to prepare. I've been shuffled around, because people can't find a propper place for me, so they stick me in the air strike units. I've never trained these, before, and i don't knw how to fly, except that i Do. I know how to fly, once i let myself remember that i do, and i train on these things that are like F-14s and Stealth Bombers, but you sit on the Outside, and the wind is in your face, but you're still protected. I wander down from completing all the other forms of training, and they hand me a helmet, and tell me to go over there. I see Ben, and he's being allowed to take his girlfriend on a flight, and i'm his co-pilot. We all strap in, and we look out across the field, into the woods, at the far end, and there is a woman, standing there, looking at us. Ben says to his girlfriend, "You see that? Over there?" She says "Yeah, I see her." Ben says, "That means that it's going to be all right. We're going to come out of this just fine." I look over and give the Celtic War Goddess a thumbs up, and she smiles, laughs, and waves at me. We take off, and are flying over fields, and over huge steam-powered engines, and death rollers, and other weapons of war. We wheel low, and come to port... We've docked the [air]ship, and we're standing there, in the dock-side of the town. Ben and i start talking about drinking, and the last big party we had, where he got shit-faced, and i drank more than him, but was fine. He says "Yeah, but you had that ward on you, that kept the drunk off you, till the end of the party..." An image of a pentegram, in my right hand, surrounded by numbers and Hebrew characters, flashes through my mind, and i'm remembering the time we're talking about. Long vaulted ceilings, in an attic of what should be a gym, or an opera house, but is, simply, a House.
We're on the dock side of town, and everything is still kind of steam punk, but a distinctly Irish style of steam punk. Me and two other people, whose names i don't know, are walking through the alleyways, looking for our brother. He's taken to hiding, because there are vampires/vampire Hunters after him, and he doesn't want to take them on. The hunters think our family is vampires, and the vampires think we're hunters. They are, of course, both wrong. We come to a gated alleyway which we know can take us where we need to be, but there are two people, standing guard. They have sharpened pieces of wood, but they smell like vampires, themselves. They turn, and see us, and they attack. I kick at the female in the group, and she catches my leg, saying, "Dex of 10, right?" I don't say anything, i simply smile at her. She says "Well try going against a dex of 20," and she flips me over. I spin in the air, and catch myself, landing on my feet. At this point, the female in our party steps forward, and then we are on the other side of the gate. We're walking in an alley that is next to and part of a house, belonging to a litle old woman. We go inside, and our brother is there. He is afraid, because he's dug himself into some deep shit. We look at the dottering little old lady, and ask our brother "What are you doing, hiding at," we pause, looking for the familial relation he put in her head, "Aunt Nancy's house?" He explains, and the little old lady doesn't hear, understand, or care. All that she knows is that her grand niece and nephews are there, and that she wants to dote on them. Our brother is still afraid.
I'm in a shop, on the rafters, and there is a rack of posters, up there, in the kind of display where you can see what the poster would looking like, hanging. And there is a griffen/Garuda thing up here, too, and it is sad. I'm talking to it, and it's talking to me, and i'm swinging on the hanging posters, back and forth, knowing that they should break from my weight, but they aren't going to. A Voice from Above calls down, and starts talking to us, asking us to do things, for it, to retrieve things. The Griffen starts babbling, and trying to convey how upset it is, and the Voice asks "Uhm... Are you OK?" To which i reply, as the Griffen puts its head on its paws, "Funny thing, asking Satan if it's mentally stable." They Voice says "Yes, well..." And makes promises about fixing his wings. With the promises of the slightly insane Voice, we set off.
We are watching a Shoggoth, or something like it, carry other things around. It has StarScream's voice. It may Be StarScream. I think, semi-lucid in the dream, "HE should have been the voice for the new StarScream." He is semi-shapeless, and a purple-void colour. We know that he could look like a badger, or a tentacled moth thing, if he wanted. He is talking (we think to himself) about laying traps, and capturing wha has been lost, andt here is, suddenly, a mad rush. There are more things that look like him, but aren't him, and they start fighting. There is a Weaver, around the corner to the right, from where we are, and one of the things-- an older one-- says "Hold on; I've always wanted to see what one of these things can do." He's talking about both his new body, and the Weaver. They fight. StarScream has been carried into the basement, down the stairs next to where he was working, and he is fighting with one of the younger Shoggoths. We two get downstairs, in time for the fight to be over. I rush over to where my aunt, mother, and cousin are standing, and i ask my aunt "Who won?" knowing who probaly won, and hoping otherwise. She says "The younger one, of course." And i look over, and i see StarScream battered, and broken, in badger form, and the pads on his paws are almost completely separated, from the muscle. We talk about trying to help him. Everything begins to get darker, as if candle-lit.
Memories of the attics of places, candles and Victorian aesthetic. I wake up
And that was those...
I'm off for more water. Later.
Starting in a field, with Ben, and his girlfriend. There is a Training exercise, going on, because there is a war for which we all need to prepare. I've been shuffled around, because people can't find a propper place for me, so they stick me in the air strike units. I've never trained these, before, and i don't knw how to fly, except that i Do. I know how to fly, once i let myself remember that i do, and i train on these things that are like F-14s and Stealth Bombers, but you sit on the Outside, and the wind is in your face, but you're still protected. I wander down from completing all the other forms of training, and they hand me a helmet, and tell me to go over there. I see Ben, and he's being allowed to take his girlfriend on a flight, and i'm his co-pilot. We all strap in, and we look out across the field, into the woods, at the far end, and there is a woman, standing there, looking at us. Ben says to his girlfriend, "You see that? Over there?" She says "Yeah, I see her." Ben says, "That means that it's going to be all right. We're going to come out of this just fine." I look over and give the Celtic War Goddess a thumbs up, and she smiles, laughs, and waves at me. We take off, and are flying over fields, and over huge steam-powered engines, and death rollers, and other weapons of war. We wheel low, and come to port... We've docked the [air]ship, and we're standing there, in the dock-side of the town. Ben and i start talking about drinking, and the last big party we had, where he got shit-faced, and i drank more than him, but was fine. He says "Yeah, but you had that ward on you, that kept the drunk off you, till the end of the party..." An image of a pentegram, in my right hand, surrounded by numbers and Hebrew characters, flashes through my mind, and i'm remembering the time we're talking about. Long vaulted ceilings, in an attic of what should be a gym, or an opera house, but is, simply, a House.
We're on the dock side of town, and everything is still kind of steam punk, but a distinctly Irish style of steam punk. Me and two other people, whose names i don't know, are walking through the alleyways, looking for our brother. He's taken to hiding, because there are vampires/vampire Hunters after him, and he doesn't want to take them on. The hunters think our family is vampires, and the vampires think we're hunters. They are, of course, both wrong. We come to a gated alleyway which we know can take us where we need to be, but there are two people, standing guard. They have sharpened pieces of wood, but they smell like vampires, themselves. They turn, and see us, and they attack. I kick at the female in the group, and she catches my leg, saying, "Dex of 10, right?" I don't say anything, i simply smile at her. She says "Well try going against a dex of 20," and she flips me over. I spin in the air, and catch myself, landing on my feet. At this point, the female in our party steps forward, and then we are on the other side of the gate. We're walking in an alley that is next to and part of a house, belonging to a litle old woman. We go inside, and our brother is there. He is afraid, because he's dug himself into some deep shit. We look at the dottering little old lady, and ask our brother "What are you doing, hiding at," we pause, looking for the familial relation he put in her head, "Aunt Nancy's house?" He explains, and the little old lady doesn't hear, understand, or care. All that she knows is that her grand niece and nephews are there, and that she wants to dote on them. Our brother is still afraid.
I'm in a shop, on the rafters, and there is a rack of posters, up there, in the kind of display where you can see what the poster would looking like, hanging. And there is a griffen/Garuda thing up here, too, and it is sad. I'm talking to it, and it's talking to me, and i'm swinging on the hanging posters, back and forth, knowing that they should break from my weight, but they aren't going to. A Voice from Above calls down, and starts talking to us, asking us to do things, for it, to retrieve things. The Griffen starts babbling, and trying to convey how upset it is, and the Voice asks "Uhm... Are you OK?" To which i reply, as the Griffen puts its head on its paws, "Funny thing, asking Satan if it's mentally stable." They Voice says "Yes, well..." And makes promises about fixing his wings. With the promises of the slightly insane Voice, we set off.
We are watching a Shoggoth, or something like it, carry other things around. It has StarScream's voice. It may Be StarScream. I think, semi-lucid in the dream, "HE should have been the voice for the new StarScream." He is semi-shapeless, and a purple-void colour. We know that he could look like a badger, or a tentacled moth thing, if he wanted. He is talking (we think to himself) about laying traps, and capturing wha has been lost, andt here is, suddenly, a mad rush. There are more things that look like him, but aren't him, and they start fighting. There is a Weaver, around the corner to the right, from where we are, and one of the things-- an older one-- says "Hold on; I've always wanted to see what one of these things can do." He's talking about both his new body, and the Weaver. They fight. StarScream has been carried into the basement, down the stairs next to where he was working, and he is fighting with one of the younger Shoggoths. We two get downstairs, in time for the fight to be over. I rush over to where my aunt, mother, and cousin are standing, and i ask my aunt "Who won?" knowing who probaly won, and hoping otherwise. She says "The younger one, of course." And i look over, and i see StarScream battered, and broken, in badger form, and the pads on his paws are almost completely separated, from the muscle. We talk about trying to help him. Everything begins to get darker, as if candle-lit.
Memories of the attics of places, candles and Victorian aesthetic. I wake up
And that was those...
I'm off for more water. Later.
