18 April 2013


The cold, wet air clung to my skin.

Freezing needles of water stung my face.
         Rain or snow, I could not tell.

    Wind whistled, knocking bare branches together like a fifth-grade percussion section.

As I strode down the driveway, the wind whipping at my hair, filling my cloak like the sails of a man-of-war.

    I stopped walking and closed my eyes.

First, I was standing on the balcony of a palace overlooking rolling plains.
     It was sundown, but instead of colors streaked across the sky, I saw only forbidding clouds.
                         Approaching like a prowling wolf.

The wind slammed into me, yelling into my ears, 
      "Run! Run while you can, before it's too late!"

Then, I stood at the bow of a mighty ship.
     A man-of-war.

Nefarious clouds glared at me from the horizon, the baleful scowl warning me to 'beware'.

    A cold breeze whispered into my ear,
             "Beware, for I am coming! Beware! Beware the mighty storm!"

Then, without warning, the cold breeze grew into a mighty gale, barreling into me.

It threw back my deep hood, cloak billowing behind me, as it had never done before.
My arms grew goosebumps.
Wind drew his icy fingers down my back, chilling me to the bone.
As I turned to return to the main deck, I heard once more, a chilling whisper:
    "Beware! Beware the mighty storm!"

15 April 2013

Another Dream Pirates of the Caribbean-style

In this dream, I was a small red-headed girl of about twelve, living with her father, a merchant, on an island in the Caribbean. One day, a certain band of evil pirates just happened to decide to attack a certain trading island. That island just happened to be the one that my father and I lived on.

When my father glanced out his office window, he noticed another ship coming into port. Nothing unusual. Then, he noticed the black flag. He gathered all of his important documents and hid them where absolutely no one would find them. Then, he ran out into the street warning everyone. Then he sprinted off to find me.

“Go!” he shouted. “Hide in the woods!” I didn’t want to leave him, but he insisted and pushed me in the direction of the woods. “Go! RUN! I'm not about to lose you to those [censored]!”

In shock at his use of that certain word and the attack, I ran as fast as I could, wiping tears from my face. When I reached the second tallest tree, I started climbing to the top, where I had built a secret fort.

It wasn’t much, just a platform of scrap wood with a canopy roof. Inside, I had hidden a few blankets, shells, colorful stones, and a bow with a few arrows. I reached for the waterproof box containing the bow and opened it. Underneath the bow, I found brown pants, a green shirt, and brown boots. They had once belonged to my older brother. He was the only other person that knew about the fort.

I changed into my brother’s old clothes, grabbed my weapons, and climbed down. I raced to the edge of the forest and into the lower branches of another tree. Nocking an arrow, I scanned the area for a pirate. No such luck. Then, out of nowhere, a young high-ranking British naval officer spotted me and ran over.

He tried to hide his shock at seeing a girl dressed like a man, but he didn’t do as well as he hoped.

“This is no place for a young lady. You must come aboard with me where you’ll be safer,” he said. I just stared. “Please, it’s for your own good. You can come aboard with me either the easy way, or the hard way. Take your pick.”

Hmm, let’s see. The “easy way” meant willingly, of my own accord, and the “hard way” meant forcibly, against my will, probably with additional issues. Who knew with the British navy? Sighing, I left my bow and arrows in the tree and climbed down, obviously not the least bit pleased.

Carefully, we made our way to the ship. I constantly worried about my father, and even once thought that I’d seen him keeping two or three pirates at bay.

On the ship, everyone was running to and fro. No one paid attention to the inappropriately dressed girl standing at the bow. The pirates drove off the Brits (while I was still aboard) and ransacked the island.

Two days later, The Flying Dutchman (commandeered by the infamously ruthless Davy Jones) overtook us and attacked, sinking the ship.

For reasons unknown to all, Jones gave me a choice: die, or go on board his ship with them.

He promised that neither he nor his men would touch me in any way. I made the obvious choice and watched as they all swore an oath not to touch me.

Surprisingly, I made friends with half the crew. Jones couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t figure me out. He tried to scare me, but everything he tried failed.

Finally, he lost it. He just broke down and started sobbing. He told me his whole life story and how he became a pirate and about his hatred of the world. Then, he mastered his emotions and became angry. I left and went topside.

We stopped somewhere, and Jones told me that I had to either stay for the foreseeable future or leave. I had no family left: my father had been killed in the attack. I had nothing really to do with my life. However, I made a difference to these people. Many turned against their piratical ways and left. They respected me, and I helped make them live right.

01 April 2013

Another Dream

In this dream I was a man, about 23 years old, I think.
It was sometime in the early 1800s.
Anyway, the entire British Government was after me for something I did not do.
After quite a while eluding them, they caught me after an almost-epic chase (but only because someone tripped me most unfairly).
There was no trial. 
They made me do hard labor for a while. (I think it was at the docks, but it looked more like a canal. It was something like pulling canal boats, but not quite. I have the picture in my mind, but I cannot quite describe it. [EDIT: actually, I recently saw Les Miserables, and the opening scene was uncannily similar, minus the water, the surroundings, and all of the singing. Here's the clip of the opening scene:])

 During this, a fellow unfortunate was complaining about his life and how hard it was and how much he had suffered, et cetera, et cetera. So, during a short break, I pulled off my gloves and rolled up my sleeves and showed him my arms. They were partially black from an incident involving tar that I had to go through to escape the British Regulars. (Oddly enough, I had all of the scars that I have in real life, but they were almost a purplish color, and they, along with the scars I had acquired in the dream, really stood out.)
A while later, the Brits got in a war with France (It seemed WWI-like, based on the uniforms and equipment), and they forced me into their army.
Needless to say, everyone hated me, except for a friend that I have in real life (Williams) who was also there for an unknown reason.
The commander despised me and took every opportunity to make my existence miserable.
Towards the end of  the dream, he was separating our group into two.
In order to do so, he had us take off our boots and set them on the floor in front of us with the tops open.
Those who could jump into them on the first try were sent to one place on the front, and everyone else to a different area.
When I turned to say something to Williams, the commander replaced my boots with a pair much too small for me, but not so small that the difference was noticeable at first glance.
Williams succeeded, but I obviously failed. Just like the commander had planned.
Then I discovered that my father was fighting for the French, and he was killed right in front of me.