I say kinda nightmare because parts of it where a nightmare, and other parts were not... but only in retrospect. However, since I only got 3 hours of goddamn sleep, it was still a shitty fucking nightmare.
I remember wandering in the dream, a sense of aimlessness kinda consumed me. I yearned to find something, not a physical something, or even really a mental something. The weird thing was it was more that I yearned to find something to find. I felt like a shitty bunch of min-maxed non-background written characters in a seedy bar waiting for a shitty GM to come up with something to do. But instead of any mage or king or shifty eyed criminal hiring them, they just kept drinking and boozing and talking about how if there were any girls there, they wanted to do them.
The terrain kept shifting, forests and plains, crags and ravines, beside an ocean, walking across the waves, sand, inside caves, and everytime I would look somewhere for more than a moment I would feel a sharp pain from behind, or from my side. Little wounds would appear, little bite marks, all over, no real sense to it, just randomly getting bitten. Soon, blood began to be drawn, and I could hear familiar laughter from all over the place, stronger when I'd get bitten. The sounds of old parties, the sounds of people I used to know, and I distinctly remember the smells of Thanksgiving.
It was about then that I began to take off my clothes, I was getting really damn hot, the sun was baking down on me and for some reason I was sweating honey. I hauled ass into a cave and the sun crumbled the rock above, continuing to bake me. The bites kept coming harder and faster, and then blood began to spill out with the honey. I began to scream, to throw my hands around wildly, but my pudgy fists weren't able to do a goddamn thing to protect me. They'd hit something with the wet splat of a thrown mushroom sometimes, but the bites kept coming.
The longer I was being eaten, the more tired I got. It was not long after I left the cave that I started to see small shades flittering around, the hunched postures of people I for some reason trusted. Darting in, claiming more pieces of me. I remember screaming and feeling a surge of energy. I ran off across the plain only to have a lasso secure around my neck, shackles around the wrists, a bolo take me at the ankle. Felt like an elephant was stepping on my lower back as my face pressed into the grass which turned into an ash-stained, moldy carpet. Blades sharpening behind me, the sound of dice clattering.
Hunks of me were sawn off, and I remember being thanked that I had come back, that everyone had just missed me soooo much. It was then that I woke up, I remember my hands hurt from being clenched. Aleister was a subtle friendly warmth against the backs of my knees, and Sedalia was sitting inches from my head on the arm of the couch. I gave her a little pat, and in one of those purely Sedalia moments, she gave me a pat back. Not a swat, but just a small reach out of her paw, and a pat pat to my hand as it retreated.
I thought a lot about what it meant... I mean it's pretty fucking obvious really. Sometimes my mind is pretty fucked up when it comes to nightmares, but sometimes it just comes straight out and says "Yo dude, here's some science."
Anyway, that's my shitty kinda nightmare that makes me glad that I escaped the real one.
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