White Dragon

I was inside a boxcar, moving along the tracks.  When I took a peek outside, I saw a large tornado spinning through the trees, destroying everything in its path.  It headed straight for a ship docked near the shore.  Suddenly, I was at the ship when the tornado exploded into a giant dragon, towering over […] the sailors – its body an almost clear white.  It threw its head back and roared, the flames burning inside of it clearly visible through its translucent skin – the yellow fire rising from its belly and through the length of its neck before alighting its nose for a brief instant and shooting out into the air […].  But this dragon was really the work of a magician and his daughter.  The dragon itself was actually a woman – the daughter, perhaps.  With the magician’s help, she was able to transform herself into a dragon and terrorize the people.  On board the ship, she turned back into a lady, wearing a black outfit and holding a claw.

Across the land, I could see an army of soldiers sent to fight this dragon.  The soldiers were dressed completely in suits of white – plain, skin-tight suits with tight hoods that wrapped around their heads – bare of any armor or decor.  Their only defense were swords and shields of the same white hue.

The magician had a contraption to defend against this pale army – his ambition to kill the army leader.  The contraption looked much like a large, wooden crate supported by four, wooden wheels – like a cart.  Fastened to it, at an upward angle by numerous coils of thick rope, was a spear.  It was like a harpooning contraption.  However, the magician’s daughter somehow got caught in the ropes (I think it was the result of a struggle between the two sides – between the magician and the white army leader) and the ropes […] caught fire, killing the woman tangled within and thus destroying also the white dragon.  But before her death, she murmured something about “the water of life,” perhaps instructing the magician to find it in order to restore her and bring her back for a fiery vengeance.

. rese


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 […].

. rese


I was looking through a […] textbook […] that detailed past wars […] from centuries ago.  I came upon a colored picture drawn as if it came from a medieval artist’s pen.  There were castle walls twisting across mountains, hills, and valleys and riding across the landscape – over these hills and valleys, scaling the castle walls – were drawn warriors in […] [suits of armor] and swords, riding on the backs of […] lions.  These lions took the soldiers into battle – climbing the walls to break into the castle […].

I thought, lions instead of horses.  Well, that’s a pretty good idea when it comes to wars.  Why didn’t I think of that?  The lions would be like extra warriors.

. rese