There's a place I like to hide...

[wotcher]

A doorway that I run through in the night.

The Shared Dream Meme

Your head has grown heavy and your eyes weary. You fall asleep and the world of dreams calls to you.

The mind is a magical thing and your dreamscape is made of your thoughts that are more expansive than the sea. You slip further from your world and into the dream. Every possibility or impossibility is possible here. Neither physics nor time nor universes have any meaning here. If you can think it, you can create it.

Rules!
1. Create a dream for your character. Post it!
1a. If you want, pick one of the prompts below.
2. Please do not leave a blank comment.
3. Find someone else's dream and respond.
4. Be creative! Have fun!
Prompts
1. The Nightmare -- What do you fear the most? Snakes? Bugs? Spiders? Clowns?

2. The Mundane -- Maybe you've sat down to send a work email. Maybe you're out walking your pet. Maybe you're doing something so boring you might as well be awake for.

3. The Freefall -- You fell asleep too quickly and your brain sent an electric surge through your body to wake you up. Instead of waking up due to the sensation of falling, you remain asleep and have been falling for thirty minutes! The ground never gets any closer.

4. The Chase -- Run! Run! Run! What are you running from? Who is chasing you? No matter how fast you run, no matter what obstacles are in the way, they always keep pace.

5. The Nice -- It's just a nice dream. It's not good. It's not bad. It's just nice. Maybe you're sitting at the coffeeshop you like and enjoying a nice drink. Maybe you're chilling at the beach. The dream could be better but it's not. It's just so nice.

6. The Personal Hell -- Maybe your mother is trying to set you up on an endless string of dates. Maybe your family keeps asking questions you'd rather not answer. Maybe you're stuck behind the returns desk at a big box store with an endless wave of stupid customers. Whatever it is, it is your own personal hell and just a bit extra than whatever you face in your everyday life.

7. The Surrealist-- Spires of pink cotton-candy tower in the distance. Plastic swatch watches melt off of floating shelves. A giant baby's head patrols the area. And there you are, jumping on a trampoline. Flipping in the air, sometimes you land and sometimes you float there.

8. The Memory-- It's exactly as it says on the tin. It's a memory from your past. Whether it's a good memory or not, is up for debate.

Comments

Kate Cordello - OC - OTA

[bossyboiler]

The Personal Hell
Well. The customers start coming and they don't stop coming. Fed up with the rules and they want half-vegan frosting. Didn't make sense not to ask for it first. They get mad and start to curse. Hey now.

Kate stands behind the glass counter in her bakery which is filled with customers. The first row of customers have faces. Their forms are fully fleshed out. The same cannot be said of the rest of the crowd. The farther back one looks, the less detailed the people become. The ones at the doors are blobs in the shape of people.

The ones at the front are the worst. They are screaming their complaints. 'Their coupons aren't expired! They asked for almonds, not walnuts! The shade or red frosting is too pink! It should be more orange. What do you mean my special order isn't ready? I just ordered a three-tier cake this morning!' It's all a bunch of stupid complaints. She gets one taken care of and two more pop up!

Kate is not going to be able to take much more of this. She wants to scream but she has no mouth.

Asterope Glass - OC - OTA

[pleiade]

The Nice/The Surrealist

There's a hill outside of town where the grass is cool to the touch and doesn't itch at bare legs. Somewhere in the distance, someone is playing a violin, the music occasionally sounding like someone gasping for air. But that's not right here, that's back in town, back where the people are.

Here on the hill, though, the sky swirls with light like a Van Gogh painting, the starlight warm and gentle. Asterope's sitting on the hill, wearing a tank top with words you can't quite read and a skirt of white eyelet lace, her feet bare on the ground, toes wiggling in the glass. Her eyes are cast upward at the sky.

Experiment buddies?

[diabolical_adonis]

"Momma! Look!" A child--no more than five or six--pounces onto the grass. Her dress was pristine and starched once, but now it's dingy with dust and spattered with mud. Bits of twig and grass cling to the lace hem. None of this seems to matter, even as she's likely to suffer a scolding later.

The child raises her cupped hands, eager to show today's treasure to ... this person who is definitely not her mother.

"Oh!" A sheepish flush rises in her cheeks and the mischief in her smile wavers, but the lady seems kind enough. She drops her voice to what her minders would have called a "polite" tone. "Do you still want to see? I'm tired of holding it."

Excellent, I'm canonblind, but can work with this.

[pleiade]

Asterope tilts her head to one side, and then holds her hands up to accept whatever the child is offering, bracing in case it's something like a frog. "You can pass it over, that's fine. For safe-keeping."

Shouldn't be a requirement with ~dream logic~

[diabolical_adonis]

"Don't hold it too tight," she cautions with the sage tone of someone who's made the mistake before.

The girl crawls closer on her knees and opens her hands, dropping a creature into Asterope's palms. For a moment, it's a baby bird. A blink, and it's a weakly fluttering butterfly. Then it's a mouse, a coiled garden snake, a goldfish ...

[pleiade]

Asterope looks up from the creature which continues to shift forms (a green frog, an iridescent dragonfly, a baby rabbit) to the girl, confused. "But which one is it really?"

On some level, she wonders if the point isn't what it's being in each moment, but the potential it has to be anything at all.

[diabolical_adonis]

The girl, Celena, watches the creature continue to shift as if it's the most natural thing in the world. "Why does it need to be one thing forever?"

It turns into a turtle, armored and safe. A scorpion, tail raised. "Should it always be soft and scared?"

Ganymede | Greek mythology

[eagleswept]

[If you prefer brackets, use those! Also the prompt for 6 below contains some gruesomeness.]

1.
The ship is driven by oars, rows and rows of them, though the protected seating space at the back of the ship, behind the rudder and the man at it, offers no view of all the rowers. It's pleasant in here, if a bit stuffy. The space is shadowed and protected from both the salt spray and the wind, but Ganymede's curled up on the padded bench clutching his own knees and staring at the closed 'door' to this improvised cabin, every line in his body tense.

There's a shadow behind it, clearly a tall, broad-shouldered man, but though the ship creaks and sways with the waves, every noise making Ganymede twitch and stiffen, it never seems to move.

5.
The mountain meadow is dotted with flowers and sheep, the view offered a spectacular stretch of farmland, clumps of trees and a river plain, bracketed by two rivers, beyond that the sea. If one squints against the glare of the sun, it's possible to pick out the walled town on the ridge in the distance. The breeze is sweet and warm, but not hot, and offers a gentle relief to the heat of the day. There is a very, very large eagle perched on the ground, Ganymede stretched out on the grass beside it and lazily stroking his fingers through the eagle's belly feathers while watching the fluffy clouds above.

Two dogs are curled up at his feet and they're the ones who look up when the dream is disturbed.

6.
The air is thick with smoke, and there's embers dancing in the otherwise chilly night air. Troy is burning, and there's corpses nearly anywhere one looks, some of them cruelly dismembered and beheaded, mostly men of all ages but some women and children as well.

Ganymede's footsteps echo through streets that are both paradoxically empty and at the same time crowded - he's tripped more than once on a severed limb, bodies, debris - and he can't get out. He knows where the gates are, of course, he knows this city like the back of his hand, but streets are blocked by fallen debris and half collapsed buildings, the gates he can find blocked as well, and there are so many dead. So, so many dead, though as long as he doesn't venture up to the citadel hill and the palace, none of the faces are in the least bit familiar.

Paris | Greek mythology

[eidosariste]

The chase
There's branches hitting him in the face, his breath is caught in his throat and his lungs already hurt. He's almost fallen over several times, which threatens to make him spill down long inclines as the weaving mountain path decides to twist along cliffsides it shouldn't be anywhere near. He knows, after all, but dreams don't obey the actual mountain and its animal paths up to the best grazing spots.

Paris would like to stop.

He can't stop. He knows if he does, the hum of wings in the distance will close in and if they do, he has to do what he's running from (not that it matters, that choice is already over with), and he does not want to. So he runs, perhaps risking running into whoever managed to stumble inside this dream as well.

The Surrealist/Memory (modern reincarnation AU)
The room looks, by all accounts, pretty normal. It'd even be a pleasant place, if Alexander could stop thinking about how it's missing air con, there are no lamps, no TV, and wouldn't that be boring? The bed is decoratively carved and plied with pillows and blankets - there's a lyre laying on one pillow, but he knows better than to touch it. If he does, then this nearly mundane dream will be over.

There's a huge loom, not of any modern make at all, in a corner near two windows, large stones hanging from the bottom and a half-finished fabric on it. The pattern doesn't stay, and Alexander knows better than to touch that, too. He walks around the room with a wary carefulness, touching nothing that looks like it'd be interesting (or not so interesting) at all. He'd like to be able to actually sleep, and if anything changes in this room, he'll wake up exhausted, he's learned that well enough.

The windows are full of glaring sunlight, and beyond the sweetly enticing scent coming from a brazier in a corner, there's the suggestion of ocean salt. He's very tempted to look out one of the windows, but that will get the same result as touching anything in this room.

He rather wishes he knew how to actually get out of this room and go back to normal sleeping and dreaming, but he hasn't learned that, yet.

Caleb Widowgast | Critical Role | ota

[born_in_flame]

The Nightmare

It always starts just before the flames with a young man standing before a small wooden house in the dark. He stands straight and tall, his bright blue eyes watching a wooden wagon pushed in front of the door. If one were to look they might see people like shapes beside him.

With a snap bright orange flames flicker to life on the roof and catch quickly and the young man's eyes, which once carried a hint of both anger and pride now fill with horror as the screams begin.

Screams that echo through the dreamscape and try to sink into the brains of anyone nearby. The young man meanwhile drops to his knees and his face goes blank as he stares at the flames lost in their beauty and terror.

bedman | guilty gear

[overloader]

[It's likely he's invading your dreams and claiming them as his own, therefore transforming them somewhat. That doesn't need to be the case, naturally, but if his influence gets exerted, he'll transform the surroundings to look like Nightmare Theater. Might as well get comfy while he has a little chat.]

Eri | My Hero Academia

[candyapplechild]

The Nightmare

[ Nightmares were nothing new. Not with what Eri went through, after all. Still, being used to them didn't make them less painful... and after being freed from Chisaki's grasp, the nightmares did happen less frequently.

But that just meant they were worse when they did happen. ]

Eri...

[ She was running, barefoot, in a dark and empty void that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Her hair was ragged and unkempt, as if not cared for in a long time... and she was wearing a familiar plain dirty-tan dress, with bandages underneath that covered the majority of her arms and legs.

It was familiar. She hated it. She didn't want to experience this again... she didn't want to be like this again... ]

Eri... you...

[ She sobs, tripping over... nothing, really. There's nothing here except her and the person she's running from.

Actually, it may be a stretch to even call it a person. It's more like a monster. Chisaki's mask is almost like a massive jaw... put simply, a somehow more monsterous and larger version of this.

She's terrified, and she can't run, so she does what she did back then... resign herself to her fate. She curls into a ball, holding her legs to her chest and sobbing into them. She may be free from the ghost of Kai Chisaki, but in her dreams... the psychological scars that remain make that far from true. ]

[xploud]

[He doesn't know what this shit is. A dream? Seemed as much, but definitely not one with any real substance, which...might actually be better than the usual. Katsuki has his own fair share of dreams and nightmares, regrets and pent up guilt on his conscience weighing him down at every turn. Things hidden in dreams, so this void - strangely enough - is actually weirdly peaceful in a way. No noise. No horrors. Just endless void.

Quiet.

Until it isn't.

Through the endless darkness, echoes whisper like snarling beasts, and little footsteps slap against nothingness - a floor that may not really be there. He's seen this girl, in passing, doesn't remember her name. Just knows she was the goal for those that took on that one yakuza boss. Whoever the fuck. Doesn't matter anyway. Katsuki doesn't care about the name of a witless villain terrorizing a helpless girl. Just another tally on his scoreboard, nothing more than that.

His own footsteps mirror Eri's, but where she's running from the monster, he's running at it headfirst. Having half a mind to shove her to the side, she does the easy part for him - ducks. Good, that makes this a nice, clean shot. One blast for propulsion upwards, the next for a quick firing of blasts - anything more than this and the kid might get caught in it.]

UNLESS YOUR LEG'S BROKEN, GET UP AND GO!!

[candyapplechild]

[ The monster—or Chisaki—lets out some kind of gutteral groan that vaguely sounds like a person groaning, as it recoils a bit from the blasts. Eri still rattled from the sudden appearance of... who? She never really found out about his name, least of all his hero name, but... Deku-san called him something...

T-That doesn't matter now! She can run, she can get away, she can escape... she quickly gets to her feet and starts to run, but... ]

I need you... Eri...

[ The voice is much more clear, and it sends shivers throughout her whole body. Maybe it's just because it's a dream, but the feeling of his murderous intent is much easier to pick up on...

She tries to scream at herself that she's free now, that she doesn't have to go back to him... but her body freezes in that inner conflict. ]

[xploud]

[This bastard really is a piece of shit, isn't he? Maybe not even real, just an illusion induced by whatever the hell is going on here in this dream-like world, but that changes nothing. It just means Katsuki has to change his tactic, if the creepy-ass shitkicker wants to play his little mind games. Oooh and the plans he has for whatever fucking villain put him through this. It has to be quirk induced...has to be. Fuck, even if it's not a villain, he'll still kill the person. Just...more gent--pfft, nah. Fuck that person, too.

Now that Eri is farther away - even if she's not too much farther, goddamnit - Katsuki can at least create bigger blasts. Catapulting himself through the air, he puts Eri to his back and holds out both his palms...which begin to glow.]

Your voice is pissing me off.

[BOOM!!

Poor Eri might feel the aftershock of this explosion - the heat and how the air ripples slightly - but she'll never be in the direct line of fire, ever. Katsuki is smart enough and has the skill and control to make sure of it, and he's putting himself between her and this asshole. But, that doesn't mean he won't be his usual self, either. Sorry, princess, but this particular Hero is still rough around the edges.]

Oi, oi!! If you can't run, then wake the hell up! [Because this is her dream, right? Can't she control it or some shit? That, uh...lucid dream nonsense he heard about in a magazine article once.]

[candyapplechild]

H-How...!?

[ It's fortunate that Chisaki is less unbeatable in her mind now than he was before, because he seems to take "damage" from Bakugou's blasts. Still, that doesn't mean that this 'Nightmare Chisaki' goes down.

Meanwhile, it's easier said than done for Eri. How do you wake up from a dream!? She's already terrified as is! ]

Makimura Makoto | Yakuza 0

[set_free]

The Memory

i.
[ Makoto sat down in front of the well-lit vanity mirror, eyeing her small collection of cosmetics. There wasn't much to it - just some sheer lipstick, a couple of eyeshadows, and her latest addition of mascara. The other girls had been telling her to try on some eyeliner but she didn't think it suited her. ]

Hey, Makoto-chan! The new dress that mama-san got for you is so cute! It's the latest at La Marche from the 1986 Tokyo spring collection! [ One of the other hostesses was holding up a soft pink strapless dress, and Makoto gave her a nod and a smile. ]

I'm really glad she lets me wear simpler things like that...

[ Compared to the other women, Makoto was quite plain. They wore fuchsia, electric blue, and burgundy so well. Whenever she tried it, she looked like a kid wearing her mom's clothes and makeup.

She swiped on a little lipstick, and dabbed it onto the apples of her cheeks as blush. Her eyeshadow was just a wash of shimmery pink to match her dress. One of the girls offered to tease her hair, but she shook her head graciously. She knew it would look awful on her.

Another of the hostesses taught her how to use a lash curler, and after a few attempts, she managed it. Two coats of mascara onto her lashes and she was done for the night. The other girls bustled around her, some with rollers and teasing combs in their hair, oohing and aahing over her "new" look. Which really was just the addition of mascara. ]

Thank you, everyone.

Girls, we're opening in thirty minutes! [ Mama-san walked into their dressing room, and the girls all jumped into a flurry to finish their looks for the night. ] The men are waiting to be dazzled! [ She turned to Makoto, gesturing to the new dress. ] Knock 'em dead, sweetheart. [ A wink, and she was out the door. ]

ii.
[ She was seated beside her first client of the evening. The first wave of customers always seemed the busiest, and Makoto was immediately assigned to a table. She could hear the chatter of the other girls, their voices lilting, some seductive, some cute, asking the men how their day was, what they wanted to drink.

Makoto bowed politely, her hands on her lap. ]

Good evening to you, sir. I'm really happy to have you as my guest today.

[ She didn't think she was half as charming as the other hostesses. She needed to earn a living here - so she looked up to give him a pleasant smile. ]

I mean... Thank you for making tonight special. I hope that I can help you have a good time.

[ Mama-san had done a bit of coaching with her and had advised her to make the men feel pampered. Makoto did her best to remember her lessons. ]

Shall I prepare a drink for you, sir?

ii

[dokodemo56]

[ His first thought? She's new. Not the most flattering reaction hostesses are looking for. Normally even with a fresh face on the floor you hope her looks floor the guy enough to put him a little off his game, get that good old Halo Effect going. But even if it's his second thought instead of his first, the looks do get to him, he'd want to forgive her for anything from murder to watering down the drinks, and it's not an appeal he can place. And Majima Goro is good at placing, at putting girls like this in a box for sales purposes, good enough to earn big bucks on of an old broad in yoga pants and a leopard shirt.

She's polite. Skill oriented, going for that classic Japanese service appeal that middle managers who wanna feel like CEOs just eat up.

He tries his best disarming smile, normally something done to loosen a girl he's analyzing up, but some part of him wants to put her at ease for his own sake, for less utilitarian purposes and that makes it less easy.]

I'll go with what you recommend. Your specialty, house specialty, whatever's good.

[ That ought to do it. Let her start him off with a high dollar order, practically a dream scenario for one of these gals, right? ]



[ ooc: Mid-0, post-0, closer to K2, post-K2, if you have any preference for where in canon they are outside the dream, or want me to change anything, let me know. Assuming only his subconscious recognizes her for the moment, and in-dream he's in 0 form but "dream logic!" ahoy, so not married to any of it.]

hiii!

[set_free]

[ He wasn't her usual clientele - not that she'd built up her reputation enough to have regulars just yet. Normally she was requested by newly minted salarymen who were just as nervous as she was, or by older guys who wanted to chat up a seemingly innocent girl. The occasional manager who'd originally come from a small town province and found charm in her simplicity.

This man, however... He was sleek, charming, and devilishly handsome in his tailored suit and steel-toed patent leather shoes. However, there was something familiar about him... especially his voice. She didn't think she'd ever seen him before, but there was this nagging feeling that they'd met in the past.

She almost laughed at herself. There was no way someone as sophisticated as him would be acquainted with her outside of this sort of thing. ]

Oh... for that, I'd need to ask you a few questions. [ Makoto gave him a smile and another polite bow. ] How are you feeling this evening? Would you like to relax after a long day's work, or do you have something to celebrate? Are you looking to have fun, or to unwind?

[ For some reason, she had images of herself with a clipboard... Assessing patients for appropriate treatments... Treatments? This was a cabaret club, not a clinic. How silly of her to be daydreaming at this time. ]



[ ooc; hi there! ♥ Makoto's freshly post-0, so if you're alright with that, I think that would be a great canon point for them. c: ]

ii

[jadedlynx]

[ There are two good reasons Ash stands out, the first being his physical appearance. In a world of Japanese men, he's clearly American with platinum blond hair and jade green eyes. Nothing about his appearance blends in at all. In jeans and a white shirt, he's also not the best dressed in the establishment.

More than his appearance, his expression is the second reason he stands out. Sitting in a booth, being served by a cute girl, he nonetheless looks confused. Very confused. It doesn't even look like he's in the same country as he was when going to sleep.

Ah. A dream. But why is he having this dream? What is this place? Isn't it kind of embarrassing to be having this dream? Maybe it would be fine for most boys, but Ash isn't known to have this kind of mind. ]

Who are you?

[ Nobody, probably. A random face made up for the purpose of this dream, but it still seems odd. Normally, the things that happen in his mind happen with purpose. He'd expect to see more familiar faces. ]

[set_free]

[ There were occasional American tourists in Japan but it was still surprising to see one at their cabaret club. Makoto assumed that their mama-san had assigned her to his table because she knew what it was like to be in a foreign country and their shared experiences could put him at ease.

He looked rather perplexed, and Makoto gave him an encouraging smile. ]

Ah - I'm your hostess for tonight, Makoto.

[ She gave him a polite bow. ]

Is this your first time at a cabaret club, sir?

[ He looked rather young as far as clients went, though there were occasional younger men like himself - likely sons of patrons as well, or rich heirs who were thinking of how to blow their cash. ]

[jadedlynx]

If I talk in my sleep, I'll have to kill anybody who hears.

[ The words come out as a groan, and Ash isn't really serious. He'll definitely threaten them with death, but it's as much as saying for him as it would be for any other normal person. It really is embarrassing, to be having this kind of dream.

Are these places even real? His first thought is a high-class strip club, but there aren't any poles or dancers. ]

It's my first time here, but I must've read about it somewhere.

[ If Ash is lost in his confusion, it seems he's willing to drag Makoto down with him. ]

What is it? I'm not looking for sex.

[set_free]

In your sleep? Did you already start drinking before coming here, sir?

[ Makoto let out a light laugh. That wasn't uncommon either; bar and club hopping was something that the younger crowd liked to do. However, he didn't look drunk or like he was about to pass out at any moment. ]

Oh - I think I've told you about it before, Ash.

[ Makoto blinked. Ash? He hadn't introduced himself to her yet, had he? Something was niggling at the back of her mind, like they'd spoken before...

At any rate, she shook her head. ] We don't sell sex here, sir. [ Not explicitly, anyway - what happened after hours was something else altogether. ] Our services allow you to drink fine liquor, enjoy our live band, and chat with our beautiful hostesses.

[ She sounded a little bit canned during that line, as if it were a sales pitch that had been drilled into her. Still, she did her best to sound more natural by giving him a warm smile. ]

Would you like a drink to start you off for the evening?

[ As soon as she said it, her brow furrowed. Didn't he mention something about being younger than her...? And she wasn't old enough to drink yet. ]

Sandalphon | Granblue Fantasy | OTA

[dejabrewed]

the memory.

[ sandalphon’s garden is a sprawling courtyard, littered with all sorts of trees and plant life. There’s a canopy of shade just by the entrance, lush and simple but filled with the energy any garden could bring. The sky above was a bright blue, making the whole garden feel as if it were paradise.

and yet, there was an overwhelming sense of loneliness that loomed over.

sandalphon can be seen setting a table with two cups. the person who was supposed to join him, however, never arrived. sandalphon’s face remained stoic.

do you join him? ]

Thirteenth Doctor | Doctor Who | ota

[dashofoutrage]

1. The Nice
The Doctor is sitting in the middle of a large field of flowers, with nothing else as far as the eye can see. A bright blue sky hangs overhead, and swarms of butterflies flutter throughout the entire scene, landing on hands and hair and noses as they please. She had lost the butterfly room of the TARDIS years ago, but this little bit of peace and quiet in her dreams was the closest she could get to it. Sometimes she missed that room.

2. The Memory/Personal Hell
The Doctor is sitting on the floor in front of a low table that is covered with papers and books. The room was a typical Prydonian Chapter dormitory at the Time Lord Academy, which meant it was cold, stark, and not the least bit comfortable. There are banners on the wall, but if you try to look too closely the symbols on them just blur. In fact, anything you try to look at too closely begins to blur until you can't make out what you were trying to look at.

The Doctor is trying to study for an upcoming exam, frantically moving the papers about and searching through books. Every paper is filled with what should be Circular Gallifreyan, but what is really only pages and pages of empty circles. She doesn't seem to notice.

"Come on, come on... I need the answer. It has to be in here somewhere." The answer to what? Well, she's sure she'll figure out the question once she has the answer. Sometimes you needed to work backwards in order to move forwards. Right?

3. The Nightmare/Personal Hell
The Doctor is in her confession dial, stuck in the dizzying, repetitive schedule she had been in for around four billion years. It shouldn't be a surprise that she kept coming back there, night after night. Appearing gasping into that teleportation room. Touch the shovel. Run from the Veil. Confess. Run. Pluck the Flower. Jump out the window. Sea of skulls. Change clothes. Dig. Confess. Run. 82 minutes. Confess. Run. 82 minutes. Confess. Run. 82 minutes.

7,000 years into the future. 10,000 years into the future. 100,000 into the future. One and a half million years. A billion. Five billion. Ten billion. Fifty billion.

Confess. Run. 82 minutes.

It doesn't stop, it just keeps going, everything blurring together until the night is over. The Doctor could be anywhere in the castle when she's found, tapping out the seconds in 82 minutes, or facing the Veil for yet another confession.