tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28058632161200421642024-03-14T00:17:40.593-07:00WILD DreamingDevelopment Journal for the WILD RPG as well as a collection of dreams to inspire the gameDavid F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-13106224462754827662020-04-13T03:13:00.002-07:002020-04-13T03:13:45.196-07:00Wicca buildingsI was on the top floor of a massive gothic building. There was something strange going on, and part of it started crumbling and collapsing - parts of the stained glass were dropping down the central stairway. I fled the building, running down the stairs, and out into the street.<br />
<br />
I couldn't get to where I needed to be, people were in the way, but they needed to be warned of the collapsing building, but the bottom floor of the building was currently being occupied by a Witchcraft and Wicca convention.<br />
<br />
I can't remember the rest!David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-44447938181778262232020-04-13T03:09:00.001-07:002020-04-13T03:09:31.224-07:00Painting and PlanesI was part of one of those painting programmes, where they get amateurs in to paint a still life and judge them. We were in a studio surrounded on three sides by full windows looking out over the sea and beach of a tourist town.<br />
<br />
The time was up, and my painting was of a vase. It wasn't finished, and it was awful. I heard the judges, and I smeared purple paint over the front of the vase in an arty way, before handing it in. As the judges started talking I heard the sound of a propeller driven plane buzzing past the window. I looked and it was horribly close as it went by. The other contestants looked at it, and one of the judges said that they would call the police.<br />
<br />
As we watched, the plane came around again, and did a loop-the-loop over the sea, but it hadn't given itself enough room and smacked into the sea with a horrible splash. There was no explosion, and as the water settled there was the wreckage of another two or three similar planes floating in the water. The judge started to call the coastguard.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-49825477430717498202020-04-13T03:04:00.000-07:002020-04-13T03:04:17.425-07:00Fingers and waking dreamsI woke up. Or at least, I'd thought I had. D was getting dressed and was very stressed about something. I got up and came over to the top of the stairs to see what she was doing. She was trying to plug in a small portable light, and I asked her what she was doing. She was making something with a machine, but it was early in the morning.<br />
<br />
I said, "It's four in the morning" and as I said it I noticed that my hands were strange. There was an extra knuckle and as I looked I could see an extra finger on each hand hidden behind. I was confused and shocked, and knew something was wrong. I started panicking, knowing that something strange was going on and I wasn't sure if I was awake or not.<br />
<br />
D tried to console me, and told me to lay down on the folded duvet that was on the floor.<br />
<br />
I just remember saying, almost crying, "Don't make me go to sleep, I don't think I'll be able to wake up..."<br />
<br />
I woke up in reality with a start.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-24368936185849644842020-04-13T02:58:00.002-07:002020-04-13T02:58:26.832-07:00Trent Reznor and VulturesI was supposed to be getting to a "getaway car". It was parked outside a fast, glass fronted library. I couldn't see it yet, but I knew I had to get to it. Ben Whishaw was there, and pulled a gun - trying to stop me. I ran for the door, and had to push my way through a dozen girl scouts who were actually small robots...<br />
<br />
They were in the way, but I managed to scramble through and past the barriers outside. In the carpark it was on two levels and I ran to the lower one. The car I needed was parked up against the railing on the raised level, and I could see Trent Reznor prepping the car. His left arm was raised, and he had a vulture perched on it, with its wings spread. As I clambered up to the car, he moved around the back of the car - a black american sports car - and the vulture flew off. He climbed into the back seat, and pulled a blanket over himself so he couldn't be seen, and I got into the driving seat.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-62249399836734249732020-02-15T05:29:00.000-08:002020-02-15T05:29:25.094-08:00Snakes, Spiders and OwlsThe basement of the house was unstable. I don't know how, but the very earth beneath the basement was deteriorating, and the basement shifted as one complete unit. The back of the basement dropped suddenly, and I could see cabinets and cases fall to the floor and shatter - snakes and spiders escaping and moving across the floor.<br />
<br />
I remember seeing the creatures running away as the basement lurched and suddenly dropped, the back pitching down and then the whole basement dropping away.<br />
<br />
The next thing I remember I was in a house - I'm unsure if it was the same house as the basement. The house had a second floor with a ladder and an open area. There was an owl, and I saw it drop from its perch and its wings deteriorate. I panicked, and ran from the house and called for help. There was an expert outside I knew could look after the owl. She came in with her friend, and she climbed the ladder with me as I lead her to the owl. Her friend stayed on the ground floor. She commented that we were six-feet-seven above her. There were gaps in the floor, and we had to stand on the tops of bookcases to get to the floor with the owl.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-10255374099109930362019-10-10T23:35:00.000-07:002019-10-10T23:35:08.282-07:00Time and Time againCan't remember much of it, but I remember I was sat on a seat outside on a giant school campus - there was a girl, she was wearing old school robes, and she said that it wasn't going to work, if they found out that was liked each other she would be kicked out. The next thing I knew, she'd run off and I hear that she'd killed herself.<br />
<br />
But it wasn't the first time. I remember later she was there again, and we were about to be kicked out of the airlock of a spaceship. As I was about to be thrown in, the guard asked "Do you want to be saved?" - and they took a sample, plugging it into a device so they could create a new version of me from this moment. At that, knowing I'd be recreated, I was fine with being kicked out into space. I didn't think of the ramifications of dying, and another me being created. I just knew that I would drift in space, becoming an icicle, and that it'd be okay.<br />
<br />
I met her again. There was a fight, hundreds of guards, and I was armed with a shotgun. We'd failed, and as I fell to the floor, I could see her again, laid in a pool of blood - she looked different, but I knew it was the same girl. As I fell, I could see a weird spiderlike creature, almost a silicone chip with longer legs and an interface needle, crawl out of her cheek - I knew she'd been backed up, and would be recreated.<br />
<br />
We'd meet again.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-57425660922075180792017-09-18T02:05:00.000-07:002017-09-18T02:05:48.965-07:00Catfish and BugsI was in a huge house. It was a modern, American house, with a vast drive and patio doors. I was sitting in the living room, talking to a middle aged man I didn't recognise about how I met the owner of the house. The owner, who wasn't there, was an amateur film-maker who I'd met briefly when I was helping him escape from a particularly scary catfish. She had faked her identity and moved into his house.<br />
<br />
(I'm starting to forget bits already)<br />
<br />
There was a sequence when he was escaping, running down a mountain. This flashback as I was describing it played like the low budget movie he'd made. He was being pursued by people, and there was a bit where he'd laid traps for them. As they failed to work out math questions or understand how to get past the traps, they fell apart into blocks as if they weren't real.<br />
<br />
As I told the tale of his escape, the door opened and loads of people came in lead by the film-maker I recognised. He'd arrived in a trailer that was so big it had to be carried on the back of an 18-wheeler that seemed impossibly huge. The drive was still big enough for it.<br />
<br />
The film-maker, we'll call him Dennis, said hi and said he was glad I could make it, then went off to sort something.<br />
<br />
I remember looking over in the corner of the room, getting up from the sofa and getting down on my hands and knees. The carpet was sprouting things in the corner - tiny creatures were growing. I looked at my left forearm and there were dozens of little black worms spiralling up through the skin. I brushed them off, and they fell out of the holes in my arm, tumbling to the floor where they joined the other creatures, growing into tiny soldiers, tigers, and bugs.<br />
<br />
The worms kept sprouting from my arm. Dennis came back down and started zooming in with a small handheld camera to film what was happening. I asked how I could stop them, and he suggested moving over to a different corner of the room and seeing if the creatures that would sprout there would form another army that would fight the original.<br />
<br />
That's when I woke up.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-8141377353161611492017-09-15T13:31:00.000-07:002017-09-15T13:31:15.560-07:00Staring at the Sea<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was at work, only it wasn't quite right. The owner had decided to expand, building a new part of the building and I was looking around it with a handful of people. The front was curved, a complete 180 degree window panorama that looked out directly onto the beach. I remember standing up against the glass, looking out and seeing that the sand of the beach came right up to the wall at the bottom of the building, the curve jutting out into the beach itself. Out the window I could see the waves of the sea, huge and tumbling in slow motion, and at once I felt happy.<br /><br />I turned back to the group of people in the construction, and recognised someone from school that I haven't seen since those days. I remember turning to her and saying "I f***ing love the beach." Before striding off...<br /><br />I'd left the building, and I was holding a load of important paperwork in my hand. It was dark now, and I was walking into the town, but I couldn't help but feel I was being followed. I rolled the papers into a tube and gripped them hard like a weapon and made my way through a crowd of people in the town centre.<br /><br />There was a police car in front of me, parked. A couple of police officers were leaning against it, keeping an eye on people and chatting. I approached, and told the female officer that I was being followed and felt like someone was after the important paperwork that I had in my hand. The officer said that there was nothing they could do about it.<br /><br />I said, "What am I supposed to do then? What would you do if you were in my position?"<br /><br />She just turned to me and said, "Kill them all."<br /><br />I could see some of the dodgy people looking at me from a higher road level. I said, "If you say so," and drew a pistol and started shooting. There were more of them, hanging onto the side of a bus, and I remember shooting at them through the windows of the bus as it tried to make its way through the town.<br /><br />And then I woke...</span>David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-9565784111173042702017-06-08T23:56:00.002-07:002017-06-08T23:57:25.787-07:00Mechanical VirusThere was a spider in the house. But it wasn't a normal house, it was one I'd not seen before. A friend managed to get it out of the door but it was huge, and it left behind a sack that I was convinced contained eggs. Sweeping the spider (about the size of a hand) out the door with a broom, the scene suddenly cut to the bedroom.<br />
<br />
I was trying on clothes, trying to decide what trousers to wear. There were these cool black trousers that had highlights that glowed like something from Tron, but the person (I don't remember who it was) in the room told me they were over-trousers and I couldn't wear them. I needed to find some normal trousers. That's when the person's parter arrived. He was angry, and built like an american footballer. And there was me, without trousers.<br />
<br />
The scene changed again, we were breaking into a base, and there was a virus that the villains were releasing. It could be controlled, and it started like a strange floating mass, glowing, about the size of an apple. It reached out tendrils, and was grabbing nails, tools, metal and anything it could find to absorb the materials and grow into a dangerous, sharp force that could pierce flesh and armour.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-66111793616402001172017-02-07T03:21:00.000-08:002017-02-07T03:21:11.236-08:00Runaway DiamondThe motel room was being investigated by agents. There was a strange film, almost like a liquid cling-film over the glass on the door. It was solidifying, and becoming stronger. One of the agents had an elemental name, though I can't remember it now. I do remember thinking that they may have a connection to Sapphire and Steel, the old series from the 80's.<br />
<br />
There was a couple on the floor, kissing, but covered in blood and the agents seemed to be ignoring them. There was a girl in the corner with a guitar, and she knew she had to get away. There was something wrong with the agents. The couple stopped what they were doing, and made for the exit.<br />
<br />
Next thing I remember, was out in the parking lot, and the trio were about to make their escape. The agents were trapped in the motel room, the film on the door solidified harder than diamond. The girl threw her guitar, a bass, into the nearby trash and hopped onto the back of a motorcycle-sidecar.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-77230683548305604442017-02-07T02:57:00.001-08:002017-02-07T02:57:35.191-08:00The play's the thingWe'd gone to a play in London, a strange follow up to a massively popular play that we'd already seen, and were confused that they'd managed to create a sequel. Next to the theatre was a very old pub, and the landlord spent a while explaining the history of the place.<br />
<br />
The play itself didn't seem to make any sense - there was a suitcase full of water and angels, a child was being frozen under the water, and then it stopped for the end of Act 1.<br />
<br />
We left the theatre, and started walking home without returning for Act 2. We walked home through the park, passing various children who had been in the play who said hello and greeted us by name. Out in the green of the park, a brightly coloured parrot was attacking pigeons and it hovered in the air savaging them. I tried to shoo it away with a blanket I'd found.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-84582836680624781432017-02-06T04:22:00.000-08:002017-02-06T04:22:19.980-08:00Bugs under the skinThe kid came up to me and said "I had the same problem, you just need to dig it out".<br />
<br />
I looked to my hand, opened my palm and I could see a little black hair sticking out. No, it wasn't a hair. It was a leg. I wiggled and squirmed, and eventually a flying ant crawled out of my skin. It crawled about a bit, then flew off.<br />
<br />
I looked again, and another had started to creep out of my hand. It too crawled out and flew off.<br />
<br />
A larger one tried to emerge from the heel of my palm, but it struggled and got stuck. I grabbed it, and pulled. It hurt, but not excessively, and a spider was pulled out. I freaked out a little and threw it across the room. My hand was messed up, little holes where the ants had crawled. They weren't bleeding, but in the biggest hole, where the spider had been, I could see a crater in the dermal layers going down to red-raw skin below.<br />
<br />
I could feel something else moving in my arm.<br />
<br />
The kid opened up a school drawing set, and withdrew a large set of compasses, only the point was larger, like a sharpened straw of glistening silver metal.<br />
<br />
"That's it, you just need to dig it out," the kid said.<br />
<br />
He grabbed the skin on the inside of my elbow, and forced it into a bulge I could poke with the compass point. Strangely, it didn't hurt, as a huge, hairy tarantula crawled out of the hole I'd made. There was no blood again, despite digging a hole out of my arm about two centimetres across. The tarantula crawled off, turned and looked at me, and did a mocking dance. I shoo'd it away, resisting the urge to kill it...<br />
<br />
And then I woke up.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-16268273082459865362016-12-29T02:06:00.000-08:002016-12-29T02:06:11.648-08:00Vans of Film-makersThe front of the house was mostly glass, a long window that stretched completely across the front. It was obscured by fragments of cling-film in sections, in multiple layers in some places. At intervals, pieces of torn paper hung in the cling-film, parts of shopping lists or notes from phone conversations hung in the air over the view outside.<br />
<br />
Outside the door, a van pulled up so close it almost touched the door frame. It blocked the pavement outside. An old, blue van. The driver vanished before I could tell them to move.<br />
<br />
There was a series of knocks on the windows, and I answered the door to find a group of film makers complaining that the van was in the way of walking along the pavement. I said it was nothing to do with me, not my van, and they'd have to wait for the owner to return. They tried to engage me in conversation, but I got frustrated, and my cat tried to get out of the door, so I shut it and ignored them.<br />
<br />
I remember the driver returning to the van, holding an old cine-camera. The van darted off, over a crossroads and was followed by the film makers in an old ford escort, filming it and giving chase.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-60364108500643826272016-11-06T01:15:00.000-08:002016-11-06T01:15:48.583-08:00Ocean inside of the WorldThe beach seemed to go on forever. I was walking along it, on a holiday with D, but the horizon curved upwards, as if we were on the inside of a giant sphere instead of standing outside the globe. The water was calm, almost still. I blue mirror of water.<br />
<br />
There was a shop in the middle of all of this. It looked like a kiosk from the outside, but there was more inside. D was unsure which icecream she wanted when I offered to get one, and I headed inside. Up a small ladder, the counter was cramped. The lady behind the counter had a strong Spanish accent, and she had a large black dog that was very friendly. D finally came in, and I shouted over to show her the dog, but by that time it was sitting on my lap on the floor trying to lick my face.<br />
<br />
And then I woke up.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-81150414755597728822016-10-21T00:39:00.000-07:002016-10-21T00:39:37.283-07:00Wedding MurdersI was at a strange party that was a combination of a wedding reception, and the celebration of the end of a play production. I remember getting into a huge lift with a group of the actors who were dressed in fake armour that was flexible. At the top of the lift, I remember getting out and there was an argument. There was a guy there who was acting like a robot - his actions were cold, deliberate and he was doing exactly what he had been programmed. He didn't look like a robot, just a normal young guy with close cut blond hair and wearing army green like an Action Man from the 70's.<br />
<br />
He'd killed someone at the wedding, and things had started to get confusing. I remember trying to leave, and someone was pushed, landing with the back of their head being impaled on a wooden spike that was jutting out of a doorway. I started walking down the stairs, and I remember I was holding a pencil. The tip had broken off and I had crushed graphite all over my left hand. I touched the cream, expensive wallpaper, but didn't realise I was covered in this graphite, leaving a grey smudge down the wall. In amongst the murders and confusion I was worried that I'd damaged the wallpaper and was looking for something I could use to clean it as I walked down the stairs.<br />
<br />
That's all I can remember.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-42131722577351394472016-10-10T01:20:00.001-07:002016-10-10T01:20:39.615-07:00Moving InI was seventeen again. For some reason I was helping a girl from school move house, and was crammed into a van full of furniture and boxes. We arrived at the house, which was huge, old and had multiple entrances and immediately started carrying the boxes in.<br />
<br />
Parts of the house were partitioned off with huge plastic sheets stretched tight over frames that acted as weird patio doors, but the plastic wasn't perfect, and gave everything a foggy look. It was where some of the walls should have been, and I kept walking into the while carrying stuff in. T that I used to work with many years ago was there, strange as he wasn't related to the girl whose house this was going to be. He hung around and directed where the boxes and furniture should go in his usual casual style.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-41395700467378005282016-10-07T02:32:00.001-07:002016-10-21T00:40:34.794-07:00LARP and Demonic EnemiesIt was some kind of elaborate LARP. I wasn't sure what was going on. Part of it seemed to be real, like I was there and taking part, and parts of it felt like I was controlling what was going on with my character remotely, as if I was online and the game was miles away. I was a magic user, and I remember having to try to take down the bad guy while we were all running through the woods. I was shouting out spells, making hand gestures, but nothing was working, and I wasn't even sure how the rules worked. I was just making up words and shouting them out, until I finally shouted "Summon Demogorgon" and everyone just stopped and it was game over. I'd killed the bad guy, and all of us too.<br />
<br />
We packed up and agreed to meet up later. We were out of the game but I knew something was wrong, and the demonic presence I'd summoned was still a danger in the real world. It was after someone.<br />
<br />
I bundled the target into a car, the driver was going to take us to Scotland to get away from it, but he didn't want to know where it was exactly in case the presence could read his mind.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-90595572321952236702016-09-26T01:18:00.001-07:002016-09-26T01:18:55.524-07:00TV, Towers and TaxisI was at home, but it wasn't any home I recognised. It just felt like home to me. My parents were there, which was odd. I remember turning on a huge TV on the wall, must have been 60"+. There was a programme on I wanted to see, but being a dream the remote control wasn't working properly and I couldn't get the volume to the correct level. It was either off (on mute) or insanely high.<br />
<br />
I finally managed to get it to work, and the programme came on. It was a new drama featuring the kids from a recent, popular supernatural TV series. They had started putting together a towering cake in celebration of someone's birthday. It was multilayered, like a wedding cake, but each layer had candles. It must have been about 12ft tall.<br />
<br />
By now, I was no longer watching this on TV, I was in the room of the programme I had been watching.<br />
<br />
I was concerned about the candles, knowing that they would set fire to the card that kept the cake together of the layers above. But they kept going. One of the kids grabbed a goldfish out of a bowl and started climbing the ladder, saying the fish was important to finish the birthday surprise...<br />
<br />
I worried about the fish, but discovered I was no longer in the room. I was in the back of a taxi travelling around a big city. The cab was a movie style yellow cab, and the driver had the fish hanging in a large bag from the rear view mirror. We were on our way to a big cinema, like the Chinese Theatre, to go to the premiere of a movie, but I didn't see what film it was. Before we could get there, I woke.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-22294432567653959622016-09-23T23:56:00.003-07:002016-09-23T23:56:52.547-07:00Bored GamesI was in a vast building that I later discovered was a school. It didn't look anything like any building I remember, but I knew the day was over and we had to leave. For some reason I seemed to be leading a class of late teens who were sitting around various rooms on the top floor looking bored. Some were playing board games, so I was obviously doing a great job of teaching.<br />
<br />
Class had ended and we needed to get out, but most of the building was in shambles. Ruined and falling apart. I remember my wife being there, standing on a particularly fragile bit of floor. She didn't seem concerned, as it fell a couple of feet through to the floor below, held up by the furniture. She simply said that now she didn't have as far to go to get out of the building.<br />
<br />
I rounded up the rest of the class, and tried to get everyone to leave, when I woke.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-31290024943277105322016-09-22T00:40:00.000-07:002016-09-22T00:40:06.835-07:00Office of DoomThe building was a mass of strange corridors, short flights of stairs, and doors that seemed to lead into more corridors and stairs. None of it made sense, but I knew there was something I had to do here and get out before I was discovered. The doors were wooden, varnished, and panelled with signs carved into little wooden plaques.<br />
<br />
I remember thinking I was half way through giving myself a haircut. I knew it was incomplete, but the task at hand was more important. But it was too late. I'd been discovered. The only thing I could do was to distract them. When the first one opened his mouth to talk to me - a strange, generic businessman in a brown tweed suit and a shaved head - I just acted like I worked there and ask, "Do you know if we've been paid yet?"<br />
<br />
As I moved about the place, opening doors that lead into the sides of corridors and stairs, more of these businessmen milled about, flooding out of lifts. I changed my direction over and over, distracting them with "Do you know if we've been paid yet?" and moving away as they stood in confusion, wondering that very thing to themselves.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-45761897224822622152016-09-22T00:34:00.000-07:002016-09-22T00:34:26.975-07:00Trees and FireI was in my childhood home. I loved that place. A huge, four bedroomed terraced house. I'd gone back there for the first time in years. I noticed that the house two doors down had vanished, and a construction crew was busy levelling the ground. Outside our old house a group of tourists/joggers wearing brightly coloured safety vests stopped, jogging in place. They looked at the map, but the place they wanted to be was the neighbour's house that had been removed so they simply jogged in place, looking confused.<br />
<br />
Upstairs, the house was mostly the same as I remembered it. There was a sudden crash, and I looked out of the rear window to see a crane from the construction crew removing a massive tree. The didn't do a very good job, as the tree toppled and fell across the house. Parts of the branches burst into the house, breaking through the roof and some of the walls on all floors. For some reason (and it seemed totally logical) the tree was incredibly dry and the friction of dragging down the walls and roof made it burst into flame.<br />
<br />
Starting at the top floor, I grabbed a black fire extinguisher and started putting out the fires and making my way down, ensuring the fires were all out. I remember thinking that the fires were out and we were safe when I woke up.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-28016509970566081352016-09-21T00:37:00.001-07:002016-09-21T00:37:49.089-07:00Tactical WargamingIt was like a massive video game. We had to defend ourselves against horrible enemies, but my troops were the native inhabitants of the country, armed only with primitive weapons. We'd lost so many troops, it was getting close to being a lost hope.<br />
<br />
Our only chance was to sneak into the fortifications of the opponents, strange yellow creatures with massive eyes, and slip something into their water supply.<br />
<br />
We lost many getting in, even manipulating the land to create better defences didn't help, it just alerted the enemy to our presence. But we made it into the strange centre of their fort and we started pouring something from a black bag into their water supply, watching it turn a fizzing blue. The yellow creatures started to lose intelligence and motivation. We'd won, but it was at a terrible cost.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-88256549977343311402016-09-21T00:32:00.000-07:002016-09-21T00:32:16.896-07:00Strange pits and SleddingSomething weird was going on. It was snowing, and I was near Coney Island. I've never been to the States, so this was how my mind imagined it would be - a strange mixture of what I'd seen on TV and the suburbs of Australia. The snow was deep however, deep enough to sled.<br />
<br />
There were a group of kids, and they were standing on the sidewalk, jumping up and down. There was a kid sliding down the hill on a sled, and I remember looking like a movie camera, following the kid down until they reached the other kids when he/she suddenly vanished under the snow. There was a hole, hidden under the surface, and the kid just vanished. The others jumped up and down shouting - this is just what happened last time!<br />
<br />
I ran over and started digging at the snow, hoping to uncover the hole so we could rescue the child. I started pulling junk out and throwing it over my shoulder, frantic to find the kid.<br />
<br />
An old woman came out of the house nearby smoking a cigarette, shouting - "You found his entrance. You better not go down there! That's where he lives. The famous Coney Island Reptile Boy."<br />
<br />
Then I woke.<br />
<br />
<br />David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-467678698757884092013-09-25T23:52:00.000-07:002013-09-25T23:52:17.967-07:00Basement of Art<b>Dream</b>: I was in my childhood bedroom, trying to entertain a couple of people who seemed to be an amalgamation of one of my niece and a work colleague. She was obviously bored, so we left and went outside. Across a busy street with heavy traffic in both directions I could see someone I used to work with in my previous job. She was moving into a new ground-floor flat with a girlfriend and we went over to say hello.<br />
<br />
The front of the flat was completely glass, but some of it had broken and there was a workman putting new panes of glass in. The flat was mostly concrete and bare, but there was a strange square hole in the floor which I pointed out was dangerous. S said that it was the entrance to the rest of the flat, and we descended on a dangerous looking square lift. There was a lot more to the flat, two more floors underground, with brick and stone-clad walls that gave it the impression of a much older building. At the lowest floor was a huge kitchen, and I started to wonder how S could afford such a place, she was always so bad with money.<br />
<br />
There was a servant in victorian era cook's outfit milling about and seeing to the food, and there was an odd annex. A strange little room where a few people were carrying props and illustrations, before one of them finally shouted - "Look, we've got it!" They posed, with the cook, and it looked like a classical painting. The painting had stars and light, which they reconstructed by setting fire to the cook's hat. The cook wasn't impressed, and the strange men laughed and wandered off.<br />
<br />
I pondered the basement and how it worked. There were three lifts at least.<br />
<br />
And then I woke.David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2805863216120042164.post-37753840143289589762013-07-22T06:41:00.001-07:002013-07-22T06:43:36.955-07:00In Your Face<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dream: I was sitting at a table with my partner and another woman. This other wasn't someone I recognised, though she could have been someone off of the TV. She was someone my partner worked with, but not in reality. We'll call her M.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">M was an intense girl. When she spoke to people she liked to get into their personal space and get so close that her nose almost touched the person she was speaking to. M spoke to my partner, and I could see it wasn't a pleasant experience, and I pulled them apart. I turned to M and explained to her that it wasn't nice to get so "in your face" when speaking, and that it was an invasion of space. M leaned in to me and put her face almost against mine and continued on without really understanding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I tried to explain that with your face that close, if I mumbled, or spoke very quietly, she wouldn't be able to understand as she couldn't see my lips move to work out what I said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then I was walking over a bridge. It was an old bridge with art deco street lights. A team of workers were painting the bridge white, but they had only completed half of it. The were painting every part, including the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I crossed, a man ran up behind me incredibly fast. He seemed to be so impatient that he didn't wait to get around me (even though there was plenty of room) and he jumped off the the side of the bridge, and into the water. But he was running so fast, that he didn't sink, he just continued running on the surface until he hit dry land and ran off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I reached the other side of the bridge, some people I recognised were there. They were people I used to hang around with, but not any more. They were hosting a huge musical number with around twenty people all singing and dancing this strange tune and blocking my path. They danced around me, singing and spinning me around trying to make me dizzy and trying to force me back towards the river.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I kept protesting, saying that I couldn't swim, but they kept pushing and spinning me, the leader of the group grinning... this was all planned...</span>David F. Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08506286721440517642noreply@blogger.com0