bakerstreet | The Lucid Dreaming Meme

The Lucid Dreaming Meme

... and then it hits you: none of this is real. You're dreaming. You've been dreaming all along.

Maybe you'd normally wake up now. The brain is a funny thing, though, and you can't seem to. Must be something you ate. You do, however, realize that you're in a dream - and in dream, you can do anything. Always wanted to dream about flying? It's your lucky night. Want to dream back a lost childhood home? It's there just as you remember, or perhaps imagine it. Been fantasizing about that one cute co-worker for weeks? Well then.

There's only one problem. There seems to be someone else in your dreamscape, and they can apparently control it just as easily as you can. They even have the audacity to claim that they are dreaming you!

All the usual:

Post with your character's name and canon in the subject line.
Said character is having a lucid dream, where since they know they are dreaming, they can do literally anything. Fun!
... except that the character that comments on your thread is also in the same dream and just as lucid. Both characters can affect the world around them, but not each other.
Both characters are the "original" dreamer from their perspective, and neither is stronger than the other. Conflicting changes to the environment simply overwrite each other in a loop until one character or the other gives up.
The setup of this meme is built to facilitate cross-canon interaction: it's probably a good idea to state in your subject line whether you're open to it.
Tag around and play nice!
TRIGGER WARNING: Meme may contain unpleasant themes. Please use warnings and browse responsibly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He widens his eyes with a patronizingly amused look on his face, mocking her seriousness. No, no, Irene Adler was to belong at his right hand if she could pull this off and keep her grace, poise and domination all in perfect place. She was clever enough to dominate the game. Of course, she'd never best him on her own. She wasn't that clever when it came to plotting, no. He talents lie elsewhere.

Pity she must die. Although, he could use the shoes. ]

Oh, honey, I can. I will. I make good on all my promises.

[ Forward he leans, planting his elbows on his legs as as he stares daggers through her. Though the room remains the same 221B flat, it seems he's slid much closer too Irene. Dramatic effect for his psychotic gaze, perhaps. ]

I'm making a list, and checking it twice... [ He sings to her in the highest falsetto, but he expression doesn't match the music. ]

[ Irene lifts her eyebrows, her body tensing for only a moment as he approaches. Spider, indeed. Her head tips back slightly as her demeanor turns to steel. She was done dealing with the devil. This was only further proof. She sets her finger at the hollow of his throat, tracing the polished nail up under his chin. She's not getting lost in those black, bottomless pits. Fearful as she might be, deep down. ]

No need to check. We know what list I'm on.

[ Her knee careful raises, digging her heel into the bottom of his chair and pushing. This is not only his dream. She sends him sliding back into place, a good distance away. Grace, poise and domination all in perfect place, yes? ]

Don't toy with me, Jim.

[ Not today, bro. NOT TODAY. ]

[ Jim lets her finger trace his jaw only so far before he snatched her wrist. The grip of his hand tighten with every passing second, and he slowly twists her arm to the side, wrenching it away from his face. ]

Given you're on the side with the angels? Far too nice for my tastes.

[ He relinquishes his hold on her as he slides back with the chair, but he's just as quickly standing. This is a spider's game, after all, and he was done playing nice with this particular black widow. ]

Tell me, Miss Adler—[ he approaches her, stepping next to the chair. ]—How has your little crush gone?

[ A hand reaches to the back of Irene's perfectly sculpted bouffant, grabbing a handful of her hair close to the scalp and slowly pulling her head back to expose her delicate neck. Moriarty leans close, hovering his lips less than an inch from her ear. ]

That was not our agreement. I will have you killed for this. Mark. My. Words.

Angels? Are you sure you don't have me mistaken for someone else?

[ Irene grits her teeth at the pain, but she still manages to speak calmly. He's becoming too close for comfort, and she should have expected the retaliation. Especially when all the rules were gone in this dream state -- or is it a nightmare?

But then her mask hardens when she feels his fingers weaving into her hair. All of her instincts and defenses going up, knowing that Moriarty was like a ticking bomb and that she crossed him this time. Even though her mind logically separate this from the waking world, the pain is still very much real. Maybe she should have drove her stiletto into his leg to remind him. ]

Jealously isn't a good look on you, darling.

[ Her voice is ice. Sherlock was a sensitive subject for the both of them, so she's not holding back. It resonates more than his death threat -- not when so many were after her head. ]

But I'm afraid you'll have to get in line.

[ Jim leans into her even closer, lips pressing to the outer crest of her ear while the grip on her hair tightened. Near proximity means nothing at this point; it was all a dream and she still isn't quite convinced of how much he'd enjoy having her ripped to pieces. He just can't resist the prospect of igniting future nightmares for miss Adler.

Perhaps he likes dreams more than he thought. ]

Little birdy told me you were beaten, quite exceptionally. Flawlessly, perhaps? I can smell the angels on you.

[ Little does she know that all those terrorist groups wouldn't even know of her involvement if it weren't for him. Why would he put all that time and effort into eliminating her when there are extremists who will do it gladly for free? He could even leak intel about her to them, make a quick buck here or there, arrange for it to look like coincidence. The Woman was at his mercy, as far as he was concerned.

The heel in his leg was unexpected. How bold. His jaw clenches, skin breaking at the mercy of the sharp edge of the heel despite his slacks but it only makes him force her head back further, exposing her throat all the more. It's a deceptively delicate and vulnerable sight, but he doesn't allow it to distract him. Quickly his free hand wrenches the black pump from her foot and he tosses it across the room. ]

Sexier without it on, I think... your head as well.

[ Her neck visibly strains, skin stretching and veins pulsing, trying to resist the pull. Though she still doesn't allow herself to look weak, lips thinned out and eyes narrowed and focused. Only for a moment do her eyebrows flick up. ]

Thanks to you, perhaps. He didn't seem to react well to knowing you sent him your love.

[ The word doesn't come out in a hiss or snap, but rather mocking and almost ... fond. Like she was coddling a child who had been rejected. The Woman might have been beaten, but Irene is extremely confident she left an impression that will stay with Sherlock Holmes -- one that he would keep willingly. Unlike Jim Moriarty.

Her eyes don't even pull away from his, even when he tosses her shoe. She enjoys seeing the pain flash across his features. ]

I'd like to keep that one on, if you don't mind.

[ Irene suddenly wishes she hadn't taken the chair, this made for a more difficult escape than if they were standing. Her best bet is to take the wind out of him, just to create some distance and have him relinquish that increasingly painful grip at the back of her head. She winds her free arm back, then with the palm of her hand, punches it against the vulnerable area at the top of his stomach. ]

[ How odd it must be for Irene to see the spider falter, if even for a moment. His face cringes into something akin to disappointments, eyebrows knitting together at her comment. Whether it's an act to play on the faux-sympathies offered by her or a legitimate moment of weakness, she may never know. The impassive expression and narrowed eyes ]

No matter. Persistent is my middle name, and there's room for another dagger in that heart of his.

[ Jim relinquishes his hold on Irene's hair when the punch knocks the wind from him, though he takes it rather well; a skill well honed over the years. It only takes a moment or two for him to regain enough composure to laugh a gut-wrenching laugh filled with pure amusement and a hint of something else much more twisted. He stands from his spot next to the modern leather chair and circle around in front of her, reaching out to grasp that same audacious wrist that had the pleasure of landing a hit on him. Still chuckling to himself, his vise grip on her wrist as tight as he can manage, he yanks her from the chair and makes certain she is drawn to him rather to the floor. ]

Come now, Miss Adler. Why didn't you tell me you wanted to dance?! That's your specialty isn't it? The physical, not the intellectual?

[ He pulls at her wrist again, throwing her away from him and quite decidedly towards the floor this time. ]

The Lucid Dreaming Meme

im assuming this is before she had to fake her death?

yes inbetween jumbo jet and karachi

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DEAR ME.

NO, DEAR ME.

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