Arm

[Alice] and I were part of our school’s musical groups which decided to take a field trip to perform at a very beautiful place, by the looks of which I took to be […] Washington D.C.  It was nighttime when I was scheduled to perform with the orchestra but my right arm was feeling sore.  [Alice’s] father’s arm had recently been amputated and she had it with her, for some reason.  Since my arm was sore, I asked [Alice] if I could borrow her father’s and she consented.  Thus I played through the concert using [his] arm.

Afterwards, I think it was (I’m not sure of the chronology here), I walked from the concert hall around the building until I saw [Alice] standing next to a set of windows, staring outside amongst rows of seats […].  [I] asked her what it was she was looking at out there in the night. […] she said to me, drawing away from the window […], “My father has a job interview today and I’m afraid he’s not going to make it through.  I’m afraid he’s going to show up drunk and he’s not going to make it through, you know, the counting part.”

“Is he here?” I asked, looking out the window.  I saw that the view contained a building with several men gathered around in their suits and ties, holding onto cocktails as they clustered around […].  It seemed to be a business meeting of sorts.  I scanned the men, looking for [Alice’s] father.

“You can’t see him from here […]!” she said to me.  In other words, he wasn’t here in D.C.  I think that I gave [Alice] her father’s arm back and she put it in a refrigerator.  All the while, I held for her a soft drink which had words on the lid saying something along the lines of “He will lend his arm,” or perhaps it was, “He who is strong, kind, nurturing… will lend a helping arm” – some saying such as that.

The next thing I remember was that [Alice] and I were outside, walking through the night air among those white, pillared buildings which were lit with fluorescent, glowing lights that shone a soft illumination in the gentle evening darkness.  There were other students strolling outside after the concert.  We were all walking around a giant, rectangular pool whose calm surface reflected the quiet darkness of the sky above. […]  I said to [Alice] earnestly, “I have to tell you something important, but I have to hurry, because this dream is about to end.”

I can’t remember what it was I meant to tell her. […] But my alarm clock was ringing and I struggled for a moment there between the waking world and the dream world before finally giving in to the world of dreams.

I awoke in my dream because [Alice’s] parents were calling me on the telephone.  It was dark when I sat up in bed to talk to [them] on the other end of the line.  They told me that [Alice] had forgotten where she had left the arm back at D.C. and they were wondering if I remembered.  “Yeah, I remember,” I told them, and resurrected a memory of the beautiful building with all the great, white pillars lit up in night lights – the place where we had left the arm.  My memory scanned through the area – across the wide, glowing steps that led to buildings resembling those of ancient Greece – all glowing in a peaceful, starry night.  “It was in the third house all the way back,” I finished, referring to the arm and its location.  They were going to come to pick me up so that I could give them directions as to where that arm was.  They were planning on driving all the way back down to Washington with me.

I hung up the phone and just sort of [lay] there in bed for a good long while before I remembered they were coming to get me and thus I should get dressed.  I got up but couldn’t seem to find anything to wear, so I threw on a whole jumble of shirts and a pair of cotton shorts that made me feel as though I’d be cold if I went outside.  That’s alright, I figured to myself.  I’d only be out there for a short period of time.  As I was fumbling around, getting dressed, I opened a drawer at the head of my bed and there, encased in ice, sat [Alice’s] father’s arm.  I must have taken it out of the drawer and set it on my bed, on top of all my sheets, for that was where I remembered seeing it next.  It didn’t even look like an arm at all – it seemed more like an odd-looking, clear cup filled with ice, ice-cream, and mint-chocolate chips.  Still though, I was a bit disgusted and taken-aback at what I knew that icy package contained within.  “C’mon, Theresa,” I told myself, “it’s just an arm.”  Looking out the window, I saw that [Alice’s family] had already pulled into my driveway in a silver, sporty car and apparently had already been waiting for me for quite some time.  I did take my time, I thought, and wondered why they hadn’t come to ring my doorbell and hurry me along.  But at least I had the arm and now we didn’t have to drive all the way to Washington to get it.

I picked it up off the bed and carefully brought it down the stairs, stepping outside barefooted onto a ground covered by a thin layer of snow.  I was aware that my parents were sleeping inside the house and that they didn’t know I was awake and out here.  But I’ll only be a second, I thought.  They don’t need to know.  I opened the back door of the car and sat down next to [Alice].  Her younger brother sat on the other side of her while her parents occupied the two front seats, her father at the driver’s seat.  They all turned and greeted me in a most friendly, cheerful manner as I entered the car and handed the arm to the parents.  They were most happy and pleased to have the arm back and they thanked me generously – her father even offering to pay me, taking out a little bag of coins and throwing some money my way.  I refused it, of course – after[ ]all, it was I who had borrowed it in the first place and if anybody paid anybody, it should be [me] […].

“Well, why don’t we drive Theresa to our house,” [Alice’s] mother suggested.  Thus, they did.  It seemed like a rather long drive over.  All I remember was that the parents spoke to each other in a strange, foreign language – exactly the way my parents spoke to each other.  [Alice] leaned forward in her seat and said something to her parents in that same, odd language – the words of which I actually did understand, somewhat.

“[Alice], what language are you speaking!” I asked.

She paused and looked at me out of the corner of her eye as if offended by my half-question half-exclamation.  “Romanian,” she said, as though the answer was obvious.

“Really?” I responded.  ” ‘Cause that’s exactly how my parents talk to each other […] and the funny thing is that I actually understood some of the words!”  I sat back and wondered how this could be, picturing a map of Eastern Europe in my head.  Well, I figured, Romania is very close to where my parents come from (Taiwan), so there would logically be similarities in the language.  I was quite satisfied with my reasoning […].

Finally, we turned into a beautiful housing development that paralleled the Kennewyck development near my house in reality.  We pulled up to [Alice’s] house in her driveway and everyone got out of the car except for her father – he was going to take me back directly and it made me greatly upset […].  I watched as [Alice] walked […] towards her house with her family.

Then, all of a sudden, I was with them, standing on the front porch.  [Alice’s] father gave her mother the keys and told her not to forget to ask me the “big question.”  I remember feeling as though they were going to ask permission to borrow money from my family.  But my family’s poor, I remember thinking.  We wouldn’t be able to give you anything.

Somehow, there came to be a change of plans.  They invited me in to stay for a[]while and I saw that their house was beautiful – filled with all sorts of lovely furniture and lit with a warm, glowing light.  I sat on a stool in the middle of all this and spun around on it to take in all the rooms of the house.  I saw that [Alice’s] mom was holding a new baby and that [Alice] was preparing a bottle for it.  […] – the furniture was new, expensive, and abstract, of all colors, shapes, and sizes, filling the house in such a way that it should have made it cluttered but did not.  It had a real familiar feel to it […].  I spun around on my stool when it hit me.  “Oh my god!  This is [Natalie’s] house!” I exclaimed. […] “Wow, I dunno what’s wrong with me,” I continued, laughing.  “I’m just slow.  I mean, I thought this place looked familiar.”  Of course, [Natalie’s] family had sold their house and [Alice’s family] had first dibs [on] buying it.  With a house like this, I thought, no wonder they’re having financial problems.

I spun around some more on my stool, quite pleased to be where I was.  Once, I glanced down at my legs and was briefly surprised to find myself wearing a warm pair of blue speedos […] instead of the shorts I thought I had put on earlier.

One last thing I’d like to add about this dream.  I remember, when [Alice] and I were in Washington, we were […] outside with a group of other people my age and we all held hands in a single row of about six or seven.  It was in the middle of a large courtyard that we stood, there on the lawn with several trees[,] and parked in front of us was a psychedelic van whose colors were dulled by the night.  We ran towards that van, all holding hands in a row […].  I talked about the concert as I ran forward with the others.  “I mean, it didn’t even feel like I was playing [violin] with someone else’s arm,” I said to the group.  “It’s kind of disgusting if you think about it.”  And then we ran up the side of the van – all of us, in a great rush, just up and over.

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A Fallen Fairy and Flowers

I was watching this dream the way I watch many of my dreams.  I was inside of a cave – a rather large one whose walls glowed red and hot.  In the center of it, the ground fell out to reveal a deep chasm that burned with fire and scorching embers.  Seemingly nailed high up on the cave walls were […] fairies – thin, delicate, pretty creatures – all hung in a row that encircled the cave.  And from the ceiling there grew the strangest organism – the master of this cave – a thing that was half plant, half animal – tremendously large, nearly filling its entire cave.  It was like a mammoth spider that hung from the ceiling, except instead of legs, it had branches filled with the most beautiful flowers that possessed all sorts of colors and had parts that shimmered and glowed when caught at the right angles.  These branches came in bundles and hung limply like willow wands – each bundle grew its own kind of exotic flower so the flowers were the same within bundles but different from other clusters of flowers.  The organism was able to move its flowery limbs in a circle around the cave so that the flowers brushed across the fairies hanging on the walls.

There were two fairies who weren’t hung to the sides of the cave, and they stood at the small entrance […] that was connected to a tunnel.  The flower organism told them to bring water before it moved its limbs in a full circle around the cave or else it would kill one of the fairies on the wall.  […] the limp flower branches began to move; a bundle of flowered willow wands parted and engulfed a wall fairy within its colorful jaws as if to eat it.  But the organism was only playing, and it withdrew its deadly flowers from around its victim, leaving it unharmed.  Then this giant being moved its limbs and did the same to the next fairy and then to the next – all the while, slowly turning in a circle.  Finally, it got to the last fairy and parted its flowery wands, engulfing the delicate thing within a smother of beautiful, magic flowers.  The fairies on the ground cried, “Quick!  Where’s the water!  Bring it!  Bring it!”  The water had been right outside the entrance all along, but only now, at the very last minute, did they scurry to lug it into the cave in a pail.  However, it was too late.  The organism removed its flowers from around the fairy – and it was as if strings had been cut, for she fell from the wall and into the mouth of the burning chasm below.

[…] they fed the organism the water before somehow pulling the fallen fairy from the depths of the chasm.  She was unconscious – perhaps dead – as she [lay] there on the ground at the edge of the chasm.  She was a very pretty thing, with golden hair and a shimmering golden dress.  There was some water still left in the pail and the other ground fairies (there were now several of them) scurried to try to revive her with it.  It was some sort of magical water and I remember thinking as I looked on, Now that they have the water, they could do it – they could do anything.  But they […] couldn’t revive the fallen fairy.

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Vampires

[…] There were a lot of vampires – everywhere – and I had to try and kill them.  I remember being inside what looked like a castle courtyard – the walls of which were made from brilliant yellow stones.  Positioned […] along the walls, like sentry, were rows of vampire archers – all, or most, of whom were female.

With me in the courtyard were [female] vampire slayers dressed in red and wielding axes of sparkling crimson – axes whose blades were large and whose handles were long – executioners’ axes.  They twirled these shimmering red axes […] with great skill as they prepared for the battle.  But […] [they were] greatly outnumbered as vampires in long, black leather coats leapt from the walls in countless numbers and attacked the slayers.

I, too, held an axe, but it was small – just fit for the hand – and it had no bright hue, just a wooden handle and a sharpened metal head.  Nor did I wear an outfit with a spectacular scarlet tone – just brown pants, boots, and a white shirt.

Overhead, the vampire archers began shooting their arrows down upon us in great torrents.  That was when I ran from the courtyard, sprinting down a passageway graced […] with a series of yellow-stone arches.  But between these arches, lined above against the wall, were more vampires shooting their arrows at me.  I kept running and they did not strike me.

This […] took place in broad daylight – the sunshine filling every corner.  The next thing I remember was completely the opposite – a scene filled with darkness and light like that which comes from dim candles.  I was sitting at a table richly set with tablecloth, elegant platters, [an] array of decorative flowering, and wine poured into jewel-studded goblets.  I was at this table with three vampires and I, too, was a vampire.  The three were discussing what meal they would like to have next and it seemed […] they were going to decide on bringing a human in.  I disliked the idea but kept quiet, reaching over for my goblet to take a drink when I realized that it was filled not with wine, but with blood.

[…] I found myself walking with these three vampires inside a church – behind […] the pews.  The lights were all off and I lagged a few steps behind two of the vampires while the third – the leader – walked a bit behind me, but almost next to me.  He seemed to sense my dislike for being a vampire and he said prideful things, trying to make me see how great it was to be a vampire.

Then I felt my face wrinkle into a terribly frightening scowl, the folds of which twisted across my features as fangs jutted from my mouth.  It made my face feel heavy and uncomfortable.  My neck also began to feel somewhat strange, as if something was choking it.  I raised my hand to touch my throat and realized that there was blood all over it – oozing […] onto my tight shirt collar.  Gasping for air, I frantically grabbed at the collar and tried to pull it away.

[…]

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Pitch Black

I was watching the news when one of the two news anchors reported that the monsters from the latest movie Pitch Black had escaped and would be up and around come sunset.  The anchors talked about this situation as though it were no big deal – a daily occurrence – and they nodded and smiled casually.

“Yes,” said the other anchor.  “Apparently something went wrong with the monsters they were making for that film – a [glitch].”

“Yes, apparently,” responded the first anchor.  “So just keep your lights burning and don’t wander outside by yourself at night – they tend to pick off the stray ones.”

I was a bit frightened but not panicked.

The next thing I knew, my parents and I were trying desperately to find a hiding place in our house – but we had no fire.  Light from a lightbulb would only hinder the monsters.  We were sitting on our family room floor and I was punching telephone numbers into a cellphone to try and reach friends to see whether they had fire and if so, whether we could drive over and hide with them.  But all the numbers I dialed were busy.  Outside the windows, I could see the sun going down and the gray back of one of the monsters as it walked along just outside the windows.

“Oh!  We’re running out of time!” [m]y mother said to me in Taiwanese.

We could hear people being eaten alive out on the streets.

Suddenly, my dad dashed out the front door.

“Dad!” I cried.  “Don’t go outside!”

But he ran back in, through an adjacent door – right next to the front door – the very next instant with what looked like misshapen cardboard boxes in his hands.  One of them was a distinct red.

I thought, when I looked at them, Oh!  E-mail equipment!  We could try to e-mail our friends and contact them that way!

[…] [A]t a computer, [we] work[ed] on the Internet.  But that didn’t work, either.  We still were not able to contact anyone with a fireplace or torches […].

[…] [O]n the floor, [I] peel[ed] back the carpeting.  I knew there was a hidden door underneath – leading to a cellar where we could possibly hide.  I ripped away at the carpeting until I revealed the door – an old, wooden thing with a black, metal ring […].  I opened it to find a pitifully small space […] that looked like a ripped hole, as if someone had pushed a pencil straight through a sheet of paper, leaving behind a hole with tattered edges – only, it was big enough so that I could’ve [lay] down within it […].

Then I became aware that a group of mailmen were inside our house delivering mail.  They were standing behind the couch, the back of which faces the kitchen – so, in fact, they stood in our kitchen, milling about.  I leapt onto the sofa and spoke to one of them.  “Excuse me, Sir.  But would you happen to have a few torches you could lend us?”

“Of course!” he said.  He was a round, jovial man with a bald head, wearing blue mailmen attire.  He pulled from his pocket two unused torches that looked like rolled up sheets of paper ripped from magazines.  These men had to travel the streets because of their job and so […] they knew how to […] keep the monsters at bay.  “You could travel with us!” [t]he jovial man said.

I knew that I would be safe traveling with them, but for some reason I was reluctant to go.

Then they left and all of a sudden our house was filled with people needing a place to hide. […]

“We’ll hide in the basement!” I told them, since the cellar was far too small.  I remember being a bit apprehensive since the basement was a dark place, but we had no choice.  I glanced furtively at the front door, knowing that the monsters could break it down with ease.  Then I herded them […] down into the basement and turned on all the bare light bulbs – but it […] wasn’t enough light.

I ran back up the basement stairs and turned on the kitchen lights, since the monsters would have to pass through the kitchen before reaching the basement entrance.  Then I saw, filling the entire kitchen floor and extending into the family room, a large number of […] people kneeling in prayer.  They were frightened and praying for their lives – mothers, fathers, children – crouching on the floor.

I closed the basement door as I went back down the basement steps.  I could feel that time was running out – the monsters were going to come any second.  Scrambling down the twisting staircase, I closed door after door behind me – three thin, wooden doors in all, built at regular intervals on the stairs – hoping to slow the monsters as they came.  I thought about the helpless people praying on my kitchen floor, […] Good.  The monsters will eat them first and it’ll buy us more time to get to safety.

I was getting more and more frightened […].  A boy I knew – [Nate] – thirteen years of age in real life but a couple of years younger in my dream – he approached me at the bottom of the basement stairs.  He was with a few children around three years old and they all wanted to go upstairs to find people they knew.

“No, [Nate]!” I cried, roughly seizing his sleeve and pulling him back.  “You can’t go upstairs!”  I was so frustrated because it seemed […] nobody was listening to me or helping […].  Everything was […] becoming hectic and chaotic – and the basement was getting dark.

Suddenly, there were terribly loud screeching sounds as a monster crashed through the first basement door.  I picked up two of the very young children, shouting for [Nate] to take the others to someplace safe – although where that was I [didn’t know].  I ran through the darkness of the basement to where my mother was, standing at a counter performing […] work that involved making some mechanical contraption.  “Where are the torches!” I screamed at her, for I remembered having given them to her.  But she didn’t know and was angry that I had expected something so much from her.

“Well, why don’t you do it, then!” she retorted.

I turned and saw that some of the people were fleeing through a door into a room connected [to] the basement – like a storage room.  But there was no light in the room […].  Even so, the storage room was better than nothing.  “C’mon!  They’ve found a place!” I told my mother.  But she ignored me and turned back to her work.

I didn’t try to persuade her further […].  Still clutching the children, I ran into the storage room where the people were hiding between giant mats lying on the floor.  [Nate] was lying there and I made him move over to make room for me and the kids.  I [lay] there in a fetal position between the mats, horrified that the monsters would find me.  I could feel them right outside the storage area – they had made it down to the basement […].

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Gargoyles

It was nighttime and the entire town was dark.  There was just enough light to see the area around the church – perhaps, this faint, eerie light was from a pale moon or from the distant glow of a streetlamp.  I either saw them, or I was one of them – a dark, powerful creature that rode in on the shadows with silent [leather] wings […].  This creature flew up and circled one of the spirals of the cathedral, followed by another and yet another.  Then they entered the church […], flying through one of the windows like bats […] [but] more silent and graceful […].

There was a gargoyle or two already inside, perched high […] on one of the ridges near the ceiling.  […] [There was] a battle over this territory […] as the three new gargoyles swooped in, materializing out of the darkness to face their rivals […].  Their fight was […] silent […], interweaving through the black air […].

One of them said something to the other […].  And then I was outside again, watching as one of these […] creatures flew […] away from the cathedral […], disappearing into the night sky […].

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Bats

The sky was a dark, angry color – with black and red swirled together over the top of a volcano.  Suddenly, there appeared, perhaps from this strange sky […] thousands upon thousands of bats – all swarming into the mouth of the volcano. […]

[…] a great monster […] rose from this volcano – a giant, dark creature, like a deep shadow with Satan’s horns and yellow, glowing eyes.  His black body was muscular, like that of a man’s, and all the bats flew around him, twisting around his body and swirling across his arms as he roared to […] life.

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Candles

I entered a giant room with walls that must have been at least fifty feet tall.  […] there were walls that divided this room into large, wide aisles that seemed as though they were made for giants.  The room was dimly lit and hanging on all the walls […] were huge tapered candlesticks that spanned from ceiling to floor.  It was as if the walls were made of these gigantic candles, each of which were colored with a brown that faded from dark to light along its [..] length. […]

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