undercover resistance agent in a theocracy

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This one is a long one, and difficult to put together chronologically. Basically I was both watching and living inside a Tintin movie. Oddly Tintin wasn’t much of a character. I was in a group of four – there was a young boy, me (a teenager), and two adults. We were on a mission and were also on the run. We had been enslaved or imprisoned by some sort of government or organization.

I remember escaping enslavement and impersonating staff within the organization. I did a variety of jobs, including waitstaff and mining. As a miner I was thought of as ‘the new guy’ and so was shown how to do different things, making the facade easier. Continue reading

insects and mercenaries and brain conditions

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I was making my way through some sort of dilapidated water related facility with some other people. I have vague memories of being in the military and sneaking out of camp at night – we were apparently going AWOL and this is why we were willing to wade through flooded basement halls full of all kids of bugs and things.

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the devil child must be contained for all eternity

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I was a boy wizard going to a wizard school. The dream was certainly Harry Potter inspired, but the school and its staff more resembled schools from my life and from other fiction than from the HP universe.

I was accused of a particular crime by a faculty member that I never knew what it was. It was a crime so severe, and the accusing authority was so trusted, that my fate to be punished for it was absolute. Nobody believed in my innocence, including my (not IRL) parents, who were part of the process for conditioning me for my punishment. I got this sense that my crime was not one of doing but one of being – like perhaps I was discovered to be the reincarnation of some evil demon or whatever.

People pitied me more than anything. They did not hate me, but I could not run free, and while my parents and others empathized, they were certain of my guilt and would not allow me to roam freely.

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a thief who aspires to be a famous chef on a massive ark

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There was a city on a massive boat. The entire ship was a self-contained city. Possibly it was the only city left. It was also a very hierarchical society where the rich ruled with a political philosophy that basically said they could do anything because they were rich, and the ruling elite had no obligation to help out anyone else. The rich deserved to be rich, the poor deserved to be poor.

I was a scullion, or an aspiring young chef or something. I was poor, possibly a homeless orphan. I needed to make good food to achieve my goals, but I didn’t have the ingredients. I went to steal eggs and suchlike in a reputable chef’s kitchen. To avoid being spotted at one point I hid above a door, using the door frame to support myself between the door and the ceiling.

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awesome discount jetpack adventures and French Canadian crust punk clowns

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I had a jetpack.

It was rad.

I was rocketing around the city, going from one place to another, just enjoying the commute in a way that for once did not involve reading a novel, oggling a pretty lady commuter, or playing a game on my cellphone. All those things are lame compared to the thrill of absolute freedom of movement (within three dimensions, at least). Continue reading

my own name is a killing word

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I was Paul Atreides (from Dune) sent to a compound on a dark rocky planet with a red sky. I arrived by convoy to find a crashed UFO within the walls of the compound, and little else but the main fortress building. It was like playing an RTS, and the map had all kinds of spider/silverfish units that would occasionally crawl into sight, and could move across vertical surfaces like cliff faces. I kept trying to build some defences but kept forgetting that I needed to build a refinery to fund this endeavour. Continue reading

rebels escape, contact with religious homeworld

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The following dream also involved me as a military action type guy on an adventure on a space ship or space station or space base.  I was shooting at henchmen in black metallic armor and bit pointy helmets and then taking their rayguns and using those.  I was rescuing, escorting a group of prisoners.  Giving them guns.

We came across a room full of machine turrets and I started throwing grenades at them.  The grenades kept overshooting, or bouncing off of them and exploding too far away.  Wouldn’t you know, it ended up none of the turrets were even activated. Continue reading

safe room in zombie apocalypse

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The first dream involved infiltrating this big house during the evening.  It was a mansion surrounded by large grounds, far away from anywhere.  I was with a woman, and I was some sort of professional.  There were guards and a family living there.  Fortunately due to its size it was rather easy to avoid people’s gaze and hide in dark corners.  I remember watching family members from behind a shelf of laundry.

Our goal was to find the woman’s baby, which the family had.  I don’t know how or why, but they were raising it as their own.  The woman had either hired me or gotten my help through pleading with me.  I may have had my own reasons for being there and found her trying to infiltrate it at the same time. Continue reading

ammo cache in ravine, muppet prison library

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On a journey on foot across the countryside with some other men. Post apocalyptic feel.  We came across some rocky terrain, and there was a sudden dip to this ravine, surrounded by cliffs.  There was the wreckage of a large crashed helicopter – lying on its side – but there was something more at the bottom of the ravine.  If you peered over the edge of the ravine you could see some sort of structure about four floors down.  It might have been another craft that had crashed, or a military shelter or base that had been abandoned.  The ravine was steep – unnaturally so, so that the walls may have actually curved almost in the fashion of cliffs in cartoons.   Continue reading

bank robber house

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Sunday, September 15, 2013

I was part of a group of criminals laying low in a house, presumably after a big heist.  The leader was this big white dude with a shaved head (who resembled A. D. (big fat former roommate)).  I also had a sense that maybe we weren’t crooks but mercenaries.  I think at some point he decided to kill the rest of us, possibly to ensure our silence or merely because we were no longer necessary.  Knowing this, I waited for him to enter the house via the sliding back door (I guess he was taking a smoking break) and machine-gunned the back of his shaved head.  It knocked him over but the effect of each bullet was like a BB gun hit, it broke the skin just a little bit.  So the back of his head was littered with little dots of blood. Continue reading