It was just past my house, beyond the far extent of my backyard, where I sat on a log with a group of others my age – although who I can’t quite recall (perhaps they don’t even exist in reality).  It was an odd swamp we were in the midst of, with no trees but instead these pillars of rock which rose from the dank waters as trees would rise from the fetid dampness of a bog.

I remember we were supposed to uncover some treasure before another competing group did so.  I knew that, in the distance, where two stone pillars arched towards each other to form a strange sort of arch unjoined at the top, [lay] the answer and key.  The other group showed up on a boat – floating by on a raft, or perhaps another log – and harassed my group for the whereabouts of the key.  I had to keep this secret from them.


. rese

The Falls, the Gallery, and the Drones

I had a hard time trying to go to sleep last night and it greatly frustrated me.  And so I guess that was why I dreamt about trying to fall asleep but being unable to.  I was wandering across a mountainous terrain of white rocks broken quite occasionally by beautiful, cascading waterfalls and pools of water.  I remember I was looking for something beneath these elusive beds of small, delicate flowers – some engraving, I think.  The flower beds were odd in that when I reached them on a white rock face next to a clear pool, they would appear and I could lift up the entire bed like a blanket to peek beneath it.  But as soon as I moved away, the flowers blended their pale colors into the white rock on which they grew and thus disappeared.

I crawled along these rocks among all these streams and waterfalls until I [lay] down upon one of the rocks, beneath a blanket of some sorts – perhaps it was beneath one of those clear, almost invisible, flower beds.  I remember thinking that if I looked under my blanket, I’d see a stream of water running just past my feet and a bunch of flowers next to my lower leg.  I pulled up my blanket to peek beneath it, and indeed this was the way it was – I was sleeping on white rock with a stream and flowers beneath my blanket.

But I kept tossing and turning and couldn’t fall asleep.  I then found myself in a house I’ve never seen before but that I recognised as my house in the dream.  I was trying to sleep on the couch in the living room – a dark room with a tall ceiling and a large fireplace set with clocks.  I remember there being pillars somewhere and a dark kitchen on the other side of a counter.

I then had to go to school.  I remember having to go on a field trip, I think, to see an art museum – a fellow student’s work in particular.  Going through the hallways was odd – like a rollercoaster ride through wooden, mining tunnels – very convoluted but not quite as dark as mining tunnels would be.  It was sort of like I was riding on one of those carts used to transport coal in mines.  But I remember colors and other people whizzing by me.  […]

I arrived in a main gallery room – with quite a few display cases and a head sculpture swirled with shades of purple.  It was a grotesque piece, with many faces on the head – I remember I had a sort of repulsion towards it.  This was the fellow student’s art piece – propped up on a white pedestal in the middle of the room.  Another girl from my high school was also at the gallery – one whom I wasn’t quite close friends with – I cannot remember who it was or if she exists in real life at all.  But I [went] up to this girl and I asked her how much sleep she got the night before.  She answered something which I have now forgotten and then returned my question.  “None!” I said.  “I am so tired!”  I thought I had just kept tossing and turning all night for about seven hours.

The next thing I remember, I think I was some strange, nymph-like creature flying around in a sort-of grey, wooded terrain in a square path – or a square room that was truly not a room at all.  I flew fast and deft[ly] – maneuvering beneath bare branches and over grey, fallen logs.

When I stopped, I was in a small house – with a typical appearance – white-washed walls and the usual furnishing.  But the many people who filled it weren’t all truly people and neither was I – although we appeared so from the outside.  We had a master who was derived from me and from this master […] derived all his other followers.  Our job was to protect him and serve him – but I think we were part of some larger operation, some larger goal, or purpose.  There were those among us who were truly part of the enemy and who sought to kill our master.

Once, one of the people in the house leapt forward to destroy the master, but several of his followers stepped forward and annihilated him with supernatural powers – a glow of pink sparking from their raised palms.  I stood by and watched – weaker of the followers even though they were, in truth, all derived from me – even the master.  Suddenly, another murder attempt was made on the master’s life – a man in a dark suit, plunging through the crowds with a large, bloody knife – a strange sort of medieval ax with an intricate blade.  Directly in front of me, he lunged towards the master with the ax raised above his head.  Gasping, I leapt forward and grabbed the man’s grip on his ax, struggling desperately with him.  Petrified I was that he would send the blade into my heart as he seemed to be winning the struggle while the other followers looked on with stone faces and robotic postures.  I cried out that they should help me.  I think it was the master who finally commanded that they do so – and they utilized their powers to destroy the attacker.

I then found myself in the kitchen, sitting cross-legged on the counter in front of the master and several other followers who were all preparing a meal – chopping vegetables in particular.  The master was the only one who acted human – the other followers all seemed very robotic – like mindless drones, with very precise, perfect movements […].  I was complaining to the master about how none of the other followers lifted a finger to help me.  “Well,” said he in an almost casual manner, “if you’d get a figure.”  He was commenting on the shape of my body – or lack of shape, rather.

It was sort of a casual conversation and I was half-joking when I said, “What!  I have figure!  Why, look at – she doesn’t have as good a figure as I and yet – !”  I indicated one of the followers who was bringing an armload of vegetables to the counter.  Then the drones all began to chop the veggies – extremely fast and precise in their work so that I was taken aback and dismayed at their ability – that I could never work up to their level.

I remember once pleading with the master, saying something like, “Have pity on me, whose body you once inhabited.”

The entire drone house had quite a disquieting feel to it – very white and bare were the walls.  There was more to it, I’m sure, but I cannot recall […].  I think I remember something about the ax-murderer being locked in the basement or in one of those underground shelters you enter from the outside of the house – or perhaps it was me locked away.  I also vaguely remember blood somewhere – standing out in its red hue amongst the white house. […]

. rese


I was watching a movie on television except I was inside of it – not participating in it but just within it.  I saw a man – a warrior – wearing odd, intricate armor with a detailed headpiece like something out of a fantasy novel.  He was walking along a most peculiar sort of bridge – a long, slender thing that turned and twisted across the dark surroundings much like a pathway.  This odd bridge was made out of a kind of reddish-brown rock and dirt that matched the twisted mountains in the background.  However, the most unique aspect of this bridge were the arches that curved over it – built of the same rock material.  The setting was such that this intriguing bridge looked not a touch out of place – it fit in perfectly with the dark tones of the sky and the deep red hues of lava that flowed beneath it, covering the entire land.  I got a close-up view of the warrior and saw that he was upon a horse – a white one with an elaborate bridle.  Suddenly, the man lifted his face to the skies, alerted of a possible threat of danger, and his headpiece moved mechanically over the sides of his face as he prepared for a potential combat.

The next thing I remember, he was standing at the foot of a waterfall.  The sky was clear and a leafy, green forest showed itself at the edge of the blue waters.  He was standing within these waters, up to his waist, his helmet off and his long, dark hair hanging in damp, wild strands around a toughened face.  His features were not particularly good-looking […].  He did not seem like the warm, genuine character he is often portrayed as – but instead, like a man hardened by his life, void of any ability to express warmth and affection.  His heart was full of vengeance […], for his younger brother had been murdered.  In front of him, his sister appeared – a beautiful woman in red, flowing garments, also standing in the waters at the base of the falls.  I remember she had long, red hair intertwined with silken ribbons.  She tried to persuade him not to seek vengeance for, I think, the perpetrators were also family.  But the man (Hercules, I now realized) showed no signs of complying.

Suddenly, I saw a giant orca leap from the waters, ascending into the air.  Then I was inside of a cave looking out.  There were two men inside – the perpetrators who were scrambling about as the orca appeared at the mouth of the cave followed immediately by a wall of water which blocked the cave’s entrance, trapping the two men within.  The water did not spill itself into the cave but simply remained where it was, as if behind great glass panes.  I watched as the orca swam away – a dark silhouette within a deep ocean.

The rest of the dream involved the two brothers trying to escape from their prison […].  At one point, I think I became one of the brothers – or perhaps, briefly, I remember once thinking myself Hercules.  Trying to find my escape, I recall climbing out of the cave, along its steep sides.  I think I was looking for a way to rescue my brother who was still waiting for me inside – for the plan was for me to return.  I remember clinging to the slippery, moss-covered rocks, making my way around until I was almost to the cave’s mouth, when I came upon shelves of books which I felt compelled to rescue.  I tried carrying them by the armloads but they fell to the ground and I was only able to salvage one – Le Petit[] Prince.  I dashed back to the cave and slid it onto a shelf but I saw that I already had a copy of it.  I might’ve taken it out again – I don’t remember – but I think I tried convincing my brother to help me rescue the books.  As we were attempting to do so, the cave began to collapse. We were clinging to the outside of it, trying to salvage the last of the books – only the cave no longer appeared to be a cave, but instead, appeared more like an ancient Greek structure with white pillars – much smaller, though, almost diminutive in comparison to the actual buildings.  This structure started to cave in, the pillars crumbling and the roof threatening to fall in.  With all my strength, I held it up – just a second longer, so the books could be evacuated.  I was Hercules, I could do it, I thought.

I don’t remember whether or not my brother and I succeeded, for that is all I could recall of the dream.

. rese


I remember a beautiful woman was standing in a rowboat with two of her man servants who each had an oar in his hands, rowing the boat across what I assume to be waters.  One of the man servants was sitting in the front of the boat and the other was sitting in the back with the lady standing between the two.  I got the impression that she was a queen of some sorts – she had an imperial air about her, with long, dark, curly hair that fell across a body covered in a rich, deep red, silken robe trimmed with golden threads.  Her face wore a stringent expression and her eyes were painted beautifully and elaborately.  Suddenly, I became aware that they were rowing towards a shore which harbored a most strange sort of siren – male, I think he was, and instead of singing he recited powerful words, luring the [travelers] onto his shore.  The man servants frantically rowed with all their might against the siren’s call – struggling with every [ounce] of strength in them.  Finally, they were able to break free, beaching their tiny rowboat on a hard shore studded with pebbles.  The man servant who had been in the back, leapt out, heaving with exhaustion but possessed with a fierce anger.  He was breathing hard as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before using that same hand to point at his mistress.  “The next time you think about doing something like that – !” he screamed at her, and I was surprised that he had the audacity to address her in such a manner.  The woman and the other servant were also on the shore and she turned that same stern face in the agitated man’s direction, looking upon him as though he were a lesser being.  The man cried out at her, “Feed your people!”

And then I think they sailed on, or perhaps they continued on foot.  Either way, I became the woman, for I looked out through her eyes and saw a gorgeous building on the siren’s shore as it toppled to ruins, the archaic walls and pillars falling out and turning to rubble.

. rese

Strange Land

There was a dark tone throughout this entire dream – as if, the entire time, the weather was cloudy.  The first thing I recall was that I was at some carnival or festival with [Alana] and [Kris].  I walked towards a cluster of trees from where [Abigail] suddenly leaped, seizing me and pulling me into the trees.  I cried out for [Alana] to help me – I was being kidnapped!

[Abigail] had her arms around my waist and was carrying me like I was some living, oversized stuffed animal.  She took me to the other side of the trees to a hidden land.  There, we approached a river with wrecked cars […] on the shores, some still partway in the water – much [like shipwrecks].  [Abigail] proceeded to take me across the waters and we had already waded well in, up to our waists, when a crash-test dummy leaned out the window of one of the wrecked cars.  He warned [Abigail] not to cross the river – that to do so would mean death.  I got the impression that [Abigail] was a very valuable person in this land – a queen or a leader of sorts.  [Abigail] heeded the dummy’s warning and backed out of the river with some resentment.

The next thing I knew, I think I was rescued.  I was riding in the back of my mom’s car with my mother at the wheel when I saw [Alana] riding a bicycle along the side of the road.  We were still in [Abigail’s] strange land but were quickly making our escape.  Upon seeing [Alana], I thought, I knew she’d come to rescue me!  I told my mother to stop the car and invited [Alana] in.  Then I found myself in the front passenger seat and [Alana] in the back.  She was smiling and happy she had a ride – glad, also, that she had found me.  I asked her how she had found her way here and she told me she had crossed the river.  Upon hearing this, I became sad because I knew that crossing the river meant death.  But I didn’t tell [Alana].  I didn’t let her know that she was going to die – that in her attempt to rescue me, she had sacrificed her own life. […]

Then I remember [Alana] and I making our way across rocky, treacherous mountain paths covered with ice and snow.  We were climbing this mountain to reach a house at its very peak in an attempt to find [Abigail] there – that perhaps she could show us a way out of this strange, grey land of hers.  Funny, that the enemy should now become an ally.

We reached the house and, inside, I saw that it was an odd, convoluted thing made of wooden planks with many different floors and separate rooms.  This house was scattered with a great many Asian people of all ages – from tiny toddlers barely able to walk, to old men and women bent over sticks and canes.  [Alana] and I wandered through this house but we could not find [Abigail].

. rese


The color was beautiful – bright and vivid.  Everything had a creamy feel to it – an almost pastel hue.  I remember standing at the head of a river or a stream.  This flowing body of water was surrounded, on either side, by fairly large, rolling hills that were mostly olive green in color but showed the occasional sign of a yellowish-tan.  I think I arrived at this point after making a long and arduous journey through tunnels in a wet and slimy cave.

I wasn’t alone where I stood, nor did I make the journey alone.  There were about a dozen other people with me and they were all swimming across the river – not horizontally, from shore to shore, as one would assume, but with the river’s flow, from head to tail.  It was a sort of baptism and we all wore the white robes.

It was my turn to swim across this river.  The river wasn’t very long, for I could see its end a ways in front of me.  It ended where the hills closed around it and a giant sewer pipe emerged from the land.  Next to me was my friend [Olivia], who was a very devoted Christian.  I haven’t seen, nor talked with her for years in reality.  But in my dream, we were to forge through this river together and she was scared.  “Don’t worry,” I said to her.  “I’ll go with you.”  Then I told her to hold my hand as I reached out and took hold of her.  There was something very important about our holding hands – that if we didn’t let go, we’d make it.  And so, holding each other’s hands, we dove into the river.  But I couldn’t hold on and I started to sink.  At some point, I decided that I couldn’t make it – I wasn’t strong enough nor determined enough.

The next thing I knew, I was looking down at the river from one of the surrounding hills, watching all the Christians swimming around below me.  One by one, with great, spirited effort, they labored through it and arrived on the other side […].  I thought as I watched, Boy, those Christians sure are crazy.  But I smiled at them and [was] fond of them.

Right before the end of their journey, they had to crawl through the sewage pipe filled with a rich, green slime.  At some point, it wasn’t [Olivia] but [Ana] who was putting herself through this baptismal.  [Ana] managed to make her way through all the slime and I greeted her at the end.  Her entire body, especially her head and face, was covered in a pale green, translucent slime.  But she was all smiles and jubilation as she touched the slime [on] her with both hands.  As she brought her hands away, the slime stuck to her fingers and stretched out in long, slimy streaks.  She was all exhausted, dirty, but happy and triumphant.

. rese

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.

. rese