Sleepwalking Stories: Coins

About three years ago, I was at my friend Alex's house. A group of about 8 or 9 of us decided we were going to read scary stories in the dark. I don't remember the stories being very frightening. In fact, I don't remember the stories at all because I fell asleep.

Now, as you might imagine, it is not a good idea for me to fall asleep in public places. I try to avoid sleeping on public transportation, for example. Imagine if I started talking, or worse -walking in my sleep while on a plane. I would probably do something to get myself arrested.

But I fell asleep at Alex's house. It wasn't the first time either.
The first time, there were maybe four of my friends watching confusedly as I walked around demanding my cactus book, and putting pillows in the freezer.

So they were prepared for this. When they saw that I was asleep, they chose not to wake me. Especially since I had already started moving my hands, spelling words in sign language. I soon opened my eyes and demanded my cactus book again.
Ok, maybe I should talk more about the cactus book.

Cactus Book Tangent!
In my undergrad in California, I lived with a girl named Laura. The first time I ever did anything in my sleep in that apartment, she was walking by my room at 4am. I screamed "LAURA!"
She walked into my room. "what?" she asked, sleepily.
"Where's my Cactus book?"
"Your what?"
"My cactus book. I lent it to you, and you never gave it back. I need it."
"Are you asleep?
"They're coming, Laura. The cacti are coming, and I need my book!"
"Go to sleep, Lizzy."

She then went back to her room. I lay there, still sleeping, and now very annoyed at Laura. I got up, went to the closet between our rooms, took out a large shampoo bottle, and dropped it from chest height onto the floor. I did this with several other heavy objects until Laura came out of her room.
"What are you doing?" she asked, still sleepy and getting annoyed.
"I'm looking for my book!"

For the three years I lived with Laura, I asked her for my Cactus book many many times while sleeping. It became quite the theme.
My friends joked that they should just buy a book about Cacti, and give it to me. But they never did.

I had an elaborate dream about the cactus book, in which the Cacti were a species from another planet. In the Cactus culture, Etiquette is Extremely important. If anyone breaks a rule of Etiquette , they were killed. The Cactus book was a book of Cactus Etiquette , that I was studying because I was chosen to be the ambassador to their people when they visited Earth.
Sounds pretty damn important to me.

Back to the Coins story!
So, I'm sleepwalking at Alex's house. After a while of signing random words, and gazing around me for a while, I asked them who was at the door.
Noone is at the door, they told me. But I insisted someone rang the doorbell.
Ivan got up and walked to the door.
"Who is at the door?" I persisted.
"Ivan's at the door." They said.
"...No. Ivan answered the door."
I think they got scared that I seemed to know what was going on around me.
After a pause, I said "Where is my book?"
They handed me a random book. I took a look at it for a while, then threw it across the room.
"That is not my book." I insisted, firmly.

I did some other things that I can't remember now. I believe I took a jar of jam out of the refrigerator and presented it importantly to someone. I think I tried to go outside, but they dissuaded me from that idea somehow.

What I do remember vaguely is going into the hallway, and taking everything off of Alex's sink, and arranging it into a small structure. Apparently I said, "Where is Laura? This is for her."
They went to get Laura, who was still in the livingroom. I asked her "Where is my book."
She groaned and said once again. "I don't have your book!"
I proceeded to knock down the structure I had made. It was probably a peace offering in return for the book.

Alex also had a large container full of loose change. I spilled these out on the carpet, and sorted them. With Ivan as my fascinated helper, handing me certain coins when I demanded them, I placed the coins in a pattern on the carpet.
This picture is the only record of that active sleepwalking night:



Alex said it looks like a spaceship. That's a flask on top there, and a pin with a picture of David Bowie in Labyrinth sitting on top of it.

Eventually I woke up while walking around, got a little freaked out and demanded to know what the hell happened. They relived the night for me, which is why I know the details.

Dream: Big Screen Tree

I had nothing but category 1 dreams last night. But one funny thing is worth mentioning.

In the dream, I walked into the livingroom where my friend Anjin was watching television on the largest TV I have ever seen. It wasn't wide -maybe 3 feet wide, but it was over 12 feet tall. I was impressed and tried to change the channel. As soon as I touched it, it shut off with the ominous sound a computer makes when it improperly shuts down. Smoke came out of the top.
Anjin looked at me with horror and fury and screamed "You killed the Great Deku Tree!"

I woke up horrified. Then I chuckled before falling back asleep.

Dream: The Fifth Restricting Stone

I dreamed that my fiancee died. I couldn't bear it, I was dangerously overcome with grief. I followed rumors and half-remembered myths until I found a witchdoctor, who I heard could bring people back to life.

She gave me the means to bring my fiancee back. It involved a complex ceremony to be performed over his grave. I had to say opening prayers/acknowledgments to certain spirits while facing specific directions, and then wash something that represented my fiancee in a copper bowl of my own blood. (gross. Why does my subconscious choose these kind of images?)
The witch doctor told me that once my fiancee was raised, his new life would be connected to mine. If one of us died, the other would die as well. This seemed more than reasonable to me, in order to get my fiancee back.

One step in the ceremony that I MUST NOT FORGET involved what the witchdoctor called the restricting stones. She gave me a beautifully embroidered satchel with them inside. I must put the restricting stones around the grave. If I did not do this, the power of the ceremony would not be restricted to that one grave, but spread through the cemetery.

I went to the cemetery, full of desperation and strained hope. I placed the four restricting stones beside the grave in each cardinal direction. I performed the ceremony, washing a crown in my blood. (I don't remember why it was a crown. There was a good reason for it, but I can't recall.)
When I was done, I sat down and waited.

I waited for hours upon hours. I began to rock back and forth slightly, too weary to cry, stretched to the limits of my emotional endurance. Dawn was breaking when I thought I heard something. I held still, and listened hard. The sound was coming from the ground in front of me, a kind of scuffling. I began to dig with my bare hands into the grave. When I was three feet into the earth, my hand hit something warm. It was another hand. It flailed until I grabbed hold and pulled as hard as I could. Slowly, a body emerged from the grave. It was my fiancee. He was alive. He seemed to know what had happened, because he didn't' act confused. We held each other, gasping and weeping at the base of his grave until the sun was well into the sky. Finally we gathered ourselves up, and I led him out of the cemetery.

What I didn't know was that there was a fifth restricting stone.

The next few weeks passed in a blissful kind of dream. My fiancee was back. We had our apartment again -I hadn't changed anything. He told me about what it was like to die. I told him about my grieving. We cried for each other's stories.

I was still going to CIM -my music school. I hadn't confided much about my fiancee's death to the people that I knew. They knew he was horribly ill, but I made it seem like he had a miraculous recovery. People couldn't be happier for me.

There had been a story at CIM that I had been told about 3 students (two vocalists and a pianist) who had died in a car accident a few years before I arrived at the school. I knew their names, but I had never met them. One day, one of these people showed up at school. They were walking around the halls, going to a few classes as if they had never left. At first, I think, people didn't recognize them. But as they started to talk to other people, everyone realized they were the students who had died in the accident.
"What? The car accident? You thought I died in it! Oh how horrible! No, no I didn't die. Obviously. I was badly injured and dropped out of school for a while. I've been abroad for part of the time. I'm back now!"

I met one of these students, the pianist, and shook his hand. I told him I had heard the stories of how he had died in the car accident, and was glad they weren't true. He was very nice to talk to, but as he walked away, for a split second I thought his face changed. Just as he was turning away from me, I thought I saw that his face was covered in blood, part of his skull crushed in. The expression in his eyes was hateful, evil. I blinked, startled, but his face was normal again.
As I was walking up the stairs, wondering what it was that I saw, I looked down at my right hand -with which I shook his hand. It was covered in blood. I flinched, and it was normal again.

More and more, people who were known to be dead started appearing all over town. I heard stories from many different people about long dead relatives, or friends appearing with excuses of having been out of town, or in a coma this whole time.
I tried to talk to my fiance about this strange phenomenon, but he was oddly touchy about the subject. In fact, he was becoming more and more distant. Once or twice I caught him looking at me across the table with a look of pure hatred.

It turned out that the fifth restricting stone had fallen out of my satchel on my desperate journey to the cemetery. This restricting stone was supposed to sit in the exact middle of the grave. The ceremony's power had extended throughout the cemetery, bringing almost every corpse back to life. Their lives were all connected to mine, just as was my fiancee's. If any one of us died, all the others would die as well.
When the dead are brought back to life, they can never be quite whole. There is something off, something sinister about them beneath the surface. The longer they remain living in their second life, the more prominent this dark side becomes. They were turning evil, all of them.

Dream: Demon No Longer

I remember last nights dream being very interesting. But I can hardly remember it. That doesn't happen to me! That happens to other people! D:
I still blame it on the comfortable guest bed.

What I do remember is that I thought I was a demon. I had been raised with demons for as long as I could remember. There were demons, angels and human beings all living together on earth. Demons weren't particularly evil, angels weren't particularly good, and humans were pretty oblivious. We were all just people. But demons and angels did tend to stay away from each other. It was almost like a class system, with the angels being higher class and not wanting to associate with the demons. Wealth wasn't an issue though.

I had always believed I was a demon. But as I got older, things began to look different -my vision began to change. After a while, demons looked fuzzy around the edges. Sometimes I could hardly see them at all. It was very upsetting.

I found out that I was actually only 1/4 demon. I was 3/4ths angel! And I also discovered that angels usually can't see demons. They know of them, but unless they concentrate really hard, they don't see them. I hadn't known this, but it explained a lot. Why angels always ignored me and my demon friends at school. Why angel adults used to be startled when I was suddenly in front of them, and hadn't seemed to notice me before.

As demons began to disappear from my vision, angels started paying more attention to me. They started trying to be my friend, inviting me to things. I was insulted, even disgusted by them, as I had been all my life. I desperately wanted to get back to living with the other demons, but they were shunning me.

I found that the only way I could see them clearly, was if I let my eyes relax and cross slightly. It was just like when you're trying to see an image in a magic eye picture. But when I did this, they looked different than they had when I could see them normally. The tips of their fingers were dark red, the area around their mouths was dark, as if in shadow. Their eyes were golden.

I woke up to my mom gently shaking me awake. I was muttering something like, "I'm really a demon... I can't see them anymore..." My mom was less surprised than you'd expect.



This isn't the first dream in which I've been part angel. It also happened in an old post called The Devil's Favorite.
Seems to be a reoccuring theme. No idea why.

Dreams: The New Teacher

I think my mom's comfy guest bed, coupled with my cat sleeping next to my face is making me sleep more deeply than usual, and therefore dreaming less. I haven't sleepwalked or sleeptexted since I got here. My dreams are more normal, with less detail than usual.

For example, last night I dreamed the tires on my car were stolen. By beavers. The end.

The night before I dreamed that Roberto Alagna, a famous opera singer, came to teach at the music conservatory I go to.
Here's a picture of Roberto Alagna.


Everyone was very excited -it was the buzz of most of the gossip between students. He was going to teach an opera history/opera workshop class. I was also very excited, I had just seen Alagna in Carmen in a live broadcast from the Met, and looked forward to what I could learn from him.

We had a welcoming ceremony for him in the lobby of the school. All the voice students were there, and there were balloons and banners. He was very gracious, and smiled and shook hands with everyone. When he saw me, his smile dropped for a moment. He smiled again, but his eyes were piercing when he looked at me. Throughout the ceremony he glanced at me every once in a while. I began to feel a little uneasy, and I told my friend Anjin about it. She said I was being a stupid 4**, thinking everything was about me. I laughed it off with her, but I still felt strange about the vibes he was sending me.

I took his classes, with all the other voice students, and they were fascinating. He had a lot to say about the history of opera, and about his own experiences. His opera workshop classes were useful and challenging. When he posed a question to the class, I raised my hand. His eyes always fell on me first, but he purposefully called on other people.

One day noone else raised their hand but me. He stared at me for a full thirty seconds before calling on me. My answer was correct. He stared at me again, and a grin spread slowly across his face. It was a wolfish grin, and I felt uneasy once more. At the end of class I was slow moving because I had a lot to pack up into my backpack. I was the last person out the door. Just as I was walking out the door. I thought I heard a faint "Lizzy!" from right behind me. I turned around, and suddenly he was there. He slapped me sharply across the face with the back of his hand. I wasn't that hurt, but I was so shocked I hardly had time to recover before he was saying "Good work today, Lizzy. I'll see you tomorrow." He showed me out the door with a smile, and shut it again after I left. I stood there in front of the closed classroom door for a few minutes, utterly stunned. Did he really slap me? Had I just imagined that?

A few days passed without incident. I stayed quiet in his classroom, no longer raising my hand. I even ditched class once. I felt sure by now that I had just imagined the backhanded slap, but that did not worry me any less.

A few nights later, I was walking towards the school building from my car. It was dark already, but I wanted to practice before I went home for the night. It was snowing, and I was alone in the parking lot. I heard something in front of me, and looked up. At the end of the parking lot, standing under a holly tree was Professor Alagna. He wasn't wearing a coat. He was staring at me with a fierce grin that made me take a step backward. I took off the hood of my coat to get a better look, but he was gone. I'm imagining things again, I thought. What's wrong with me? I started walking again. I was in the middle of the field on the side of the building when I felt something grab me by the back of the neck. It felt like a very large hand. I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

Then I woke up, dammit. It was very frightening while I was dreaming it, so I probably forced myself to wake up -nightmare wake-up style. But I want to know what happens!
This dream is different for two reasons: 1. There's not quite as much detail as other dreams. I blame that on the comfy guest bed. 2. I'm not often myself in my dreams. I'm usually playing a character of some sort. This was me for-sure. School even looked exactly as it looks in real life. My friends acted as they probably would. The new teacher was the only variable, which made it extra freaky.



**4 is on the Enneagram scale. It's a personality scale that I've read about. According to the scale, I really am a 4,. 4's are supposed to be creative artists, rather moody, and they think they're special. They're also reluctant to be categorized by numbers. :p


Update: 1-19-11
Last night, in real waking life, I parked in that parking lot that was in this dream. It was after dark, and I wanted to practice, and it was snowing -exactly like in this dream.
Halfway across the empty parking lot I suddenly got a feeling of uneasiness, and a chill raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I stopped in my tracks and looked up. There was the holly tree that Professor Alagna had been standing under in the dream. Noone was there.
I looked down, and found $20 bucks on the ground, half buried in the snow! yay! I wouldn't' have found it if I hadn't have had a creepy flashback to this dream.

Childhood Dreams

I am home for the holidays, at my mom's house. I was going through some old papers, and files on my mom's old computer, and I came across a few dreams I had written down years and years ago. Some were written down in brief summary by my mom because she thought they were interesting. Here is one I found written when I was very young:


"People are picking flowers and holding them up to their faces looking at them. The flowers are closed and then they open up and mimic the expression of the person's face that is holding them. They have little flower faces. One looks very happy and another looks grumpy and then surprised. Flowers from somewhere else?"

I don't remember that dream. I wonder how old I was when I wrote it. I'm assuming young enough to be ignorant of the use of commas.
Its too bad I didn't write down my dreams when I was a teenager. I used to have at least 3 long, vivid dreams every night. I was too lazy and angsty to write them down.

Here is one my mom wrote down. She just wanted to write a brief summary, so I'd remember more of the dream later. I was very young when I dreamed this too:

"Lizzy walks into a completely deserted town. She hears a crackly voice from somewhere say to her, 'Now that you are here, you can never leave.' She turns towards the voice and see that it is a crow talking to her. In her dream, Lizzy has walked into a town that has been quarantined with some horrible disease. Law officials show up and try to shoot her because she has been in contact with it."

That dream I do vaguely remember. I remember the talking crow anyway. I must have been 7 or 8 years old when I dreamed that.

Sleep Text: Falsehoods

I texted three people last night in my sleep, and none of them responded.
To all three of them I said:

"I cannot be held responsible for the consequences of your falsehoods."

It was at 2:30am, so I'm not surprised no one responded.
I've never posted the ensuing morning conversations I have with the people I sleeptext, but some of them can be just as amusing as the sleep texts themselves.

One of the recipients of this text was my sister, Jesse.
This morning I had a short text conversation with her about it.
Jesse: "Hahaha!! Hey -you finally texted me in your sleep!"
Awake Me: "Sorry about that! I'm glad you knew it was in my sleep, and that I wasn't just strangely angry at you."
Jesse: She's an angry elf!
Me: Shut up you. At least I'm not the one telling falsehoods.

Dream: WWIII

I dreamed that World War III had happened, and 2/3rds of the population of the world had been killed. The main enemies had developed weapons that could kill every living thing within a specific radius, without harming inanimate objects. They had also developed weapons of torture. One weapon was a bit like a gun, only it had unlimited range, and caused every single pain receptor in the victim's body to activate. The weapon also prevented the victim from losing consciousness from the pain.

My entire family had either been killed or kidnapped. The enemy had pressed me into their army by torturing me and holding my family hostage. It had been months since I became one of their army, and I could barely feel anything anymore. I committed horrible acts of violence, even genocide, without emotional consequences. I thought my soul had been shattered, and I was just a body, acting out of habit now. My job usually included being part of the execution squad, killing lines of innocent people with automatic weapons.

One day, we were marching through a small village in rural china. We marched on foot, and set up camp every night. I didn't know what the point of our mission was, and I didn't have enough humanity left in me to care. We seemed to just be walking from town to town, killing.
Following orders, I gunned down about 20 people who were forcibly lined up against a wall. After they fell to the ground, one of the villagers, a little girl, stood back up. She couldn't have been older than two years old, and she had ducked when I fired my weapon. She was the most beautiful child I had ever seen.

My commanding officer saw what had happened, and ordered me to take her behind the houses, and shoot her. I took her out of sight, and pointed my smaller firearm at her.
Something inside of me broke. I didn't think I could feel anymore, but tears started pouring down my face. I had locked my soul away somewhere, and the eyes of this tiny beautiful girl had brought it closer to the surface again. I lowered my weapon. I already loved her.

I hid her with my equipment, which was kept in a all-terrain, tank-like vehicle. I made sure no one found her, and that she kept quiet. There was nowhere safe I could bring her. Each village and town that we went to, we brought nothing but death. I kept her safe for months this way, not knowing what else to do. She began to call me Mama, and I loved her with all of my being.
One night, after I had set up my camp, I left my tent to go get water. When I returned, five officers were standing around my tent, my equipment spread out on the ground. The little girl was nowhere in sight. I was seized, and was roughly forced to walk for twenty minutes until we reached the center of the village we had decimated that day. There was a raised platform in the middle of an open space in the village center. On the platform stood my commanding officer, his hand on the shoulder of my little girl, who stood by his side, blindfolded.

My commanding officer saw that i had arrived, and nodded to a soldier. The soldier took out a pain-weapon, and pointed it at my little girl. I screamed, and tried to get out of the grasp of the three men holding me. I was hit hard on the side of the head with something, and forced to my knees. They waited until my vision had cleared before they used the pain weapon on my little girl. I don't know how long this went on before they stopped, and forced the girl to her feet. They took off her blindfold so that I could see her eyes, and placed a shotgun against her head. My little girl looked at me and screamed "Mama!" I awoke from this dream as the gun was fired.

Wtf subconscious?? I was already crying when I woke up, and could not go back to sleep. It's a terrible feeling, not wanting to go to sleep for fear of dreams.

Sleep Writing: The General

My dreams last night were all very strange and jumbled as normal dreams usually are. I think the highlight was when a reflection of a mutilated little girl appeared in the mirror and shrieked "Only sinful children look at me! Only sinful children look at me!" over and over. Then my friend Alisha poked the reflection in the eye, and said "Don't listen to her. She's licentious."
No idea what this dream means, and I'm not sure if I've ever used the word licentious out loud.


However, I did find this old piece of paper tucked away in a journal. It was something I wrote in my sleep a few years ago. (2006, it says in my awake handwriting.)
It is a paper torn out of a notebook. It's not a poem, exactly. It almost seems like an excerpt from story, or play. The quotation marks are actually written in. Here's what it says:

"Yeah, okay. But now you can listen to me, sir. I will take my cushy job, and my paid-for education, and my real relationships with my friends and kin. I will take that over your death and your insanity. And by god, General, I think I win."
The General's face flooded with rage, but Jack cut him off before he could speak.
"You believe that because you've seen first-hand the worst that humanity is capable of, that you are more of a person than I am? The fact that you've killed other human beings means that I must be the one to rethink my life? I must improve my character, make my life more valuable by ending the lives of others? I'm sorry, General, but I would rather win my life than this war."


I think this was the first thing I had ever written in my sleep. I remember being weirded-out when reading it in the morning. I've tried googling phrases from it, but it doesn't seem to be from anything. It's strange how it's in dialogue form.

Sleep Texts: The Cheesemaker

Me: Pardon me, but where can I find the cheesemaker at this late hour?

Laura: I believe he is at the tavern having a drink before he heads home for the night.

Me: Thank you. I must find him right away.

Laura: Is everything ok? Is there anything more I can do to help?

Me: Well, not particularly. Unless you know the cheesemaker? I don't know him by name unfortunately.

Laura: I stop by the shop from time to time. His name is David, I believe. We are friends.

Me: Thank you for the information! You have been most helpful. I am Gwyn, the physicians assistant. Who are you?

Laura: My name is Lumen. My father owns the bakery.

Me: Well, thank you again. I'm off to find the cheesemaker. Stop by the physicians workshop sometime.

Laura: I will stop by sometime. Bye, Gwyn.


Then, about a half hour later:

Me: Excuse me, sir, are you the cheesemaker? I was told the cheesemaker might be here.

Chris: Cheese? CHEESE? Ugh, is this what I'm reduced to? Yes, I make cheese, and do many other more important things as well. What are ya looking for?

Me: I'm afraid I've interrupted your drink rather late. But I am sent on an errand of importance. The physician needs to know if you keep a stock of lillywax cheese in your shop.

Chris: Lillywax, eh? That's a rare one these days. I hope you have the coin for it. What's that physician up to anyhow?

Me: He is preparing an antidote that can be administered only by the lilywax cheese. If you don't mind, might we go get it now? The patient could probably wait till morning, but it's best if we get it to her sooner.

Chris: A medicinal trojan horse! What a clever man. Alright, come around back, I keep it in the cellar. It's much too humid these days. Will this be goin on the physicians tab then?

Me: Yes, thank you.

Chris: Not a problem. You're just lucky I was still up. The misses usually calls me to bed earlier, but she's at her sister's for a time yet. Oh, and tell that physician to stop by sometime. We haven't had a good chat in too long.

Me: I will tell him. He has his hands full these days with the misadventures of His Grace's twins. Every week it's something. And now little Emily has gone and eaten the poisonous heath flowers. Hence the lillywax.

Chris: Ah! I had forgotten about those flowers... Bless those children. They've brought so much joy to that man. Hurry along now, Emily is not one to wait for anything, even health heh heh heh.

Ok so, I don't remember any of this. Sometimes I vaguely remember the story behind it, but this time I don't. It's a pretty clear story though, I even have a name this time.
Also, Lillywax cheese? O_o

Dream: The Death of a Sacred Lion

I dreamed that I was from a sprawling city which looked most like a middle eastern city, or perhaps somewhere in India. In my culture, lions were sacred and very common. It was the law that you could not hinder the doings of a lion. It was also considered extremely socially incorrect to even show that you noticed them at all by looking directly at them or avoiding them in any way. This was considered extremely prideful and arrogant, as if you are saying that you know God's will and think you can control it.

But, of course, these were lions wandering around the city, so they did very commonly attack people. When this happened, if it happened in front of you, you were expected to fall into a ritual prayer of thanks, or ignore it completely.

Also part of this dream was a back story that there is only one gun in the entire world. It was a pistol, and I had only ever heard stories and myths about it. I knew that people were always stealing it from one another, and the possessor of the gun always died gruesomely . There were groups of men who spend their lives hunting it down, trying to posses it. I had heard recently that it was rumored to be somewhere in the city. I wanted nothing to do with it.

One day, I heard that a lion had been shot. (in the indirect language my people used to discuss lions.) Later, in the marketplace, I had gone to get some supplies, and I was walking among merchant and lions. I looked into my bag for some money, and there was the gun.

Dream: The Sorcerer's Vision

I dreamed I was taking a nice relaxing bath. My drain stopper didn't work, so I was using a purple dishtowel to stop it up. I opened my eyes and noticed something purple floating on top of the water. I thought it must just be bits of fuzz from the cloth, so I scooped it out. It was hard to the touch. I examined it and saw that it was wax. Suddenly a huge ball of wax fell into the water from above. I looked up and the entire ceiling was like the top of an upside down candle. Where the light fixture had been in the center was now a flame shooting downward. Drops of wax fell everywhere. I went to get up, but found that I couldn't move. Most of the water in the bathtub had been displaced by wax, and I was stuck in it. The bathroom started to fill with melted wax, and soon it was up to my neck. Surprisingly, it wasn't too hot, and it did not burn my skin like melted wax usually does. I was panicking anyway. The wax was almost above my head. Suddenly, the candle flame in the ceiling snuffed out, and I felt the bottom of the bathtub move downward, away from me. I screamed and fought against the wax as I sunk deeper into it. Soon it was above my head, and I lost consciousness.
I awoke as I hit the ground. Apparently I had been falling. My whole body felt like one massive bruise, and I lay there moaning for a while before I opened my eyes. When I did I saw I was in a large room, with a fireplace in one corner and several ornate windows lining the walls. I remember the windows had wooden designs of celtic knots across the glass. I lay in the center of the room, still not wearing any clothing. Just as I was starting to pick myself up, I heard a small door in the corner of the room open. Before I could do anything, a man came in and caught sight of me.
"Good Lord!" he yelled and ran out of the room. I could hear him calling for someone. I saw a woolen blanket laying across a wide, wooden chair nearby. I snatched it and wrapped it around myself. Just as I got myself covered a woman entered. She smiled at me and dipped a small curtsy.
"This way mistress. Let's get you something to wear," she said gently. She led me into a small chamber adjoining the large room. In it was a large basin with water, and a tall freestanding screen to dress behind.
I heard movement in the next room, and the man called out. "I'm very sorry about this! All will be explained! You are perfectly safe, young woman!"
The girl, who said very little, handed me a dress made out of soft white cotton on the inside, and white and purple silk as the outermost layers. The dress was complicated looking and I gazed at it dubiously before the girl smiled at me and helped me put it on.
All this time I was panicking inwardly. I half-believed I was dreaming or hallucinating -perhaps I had slipped and hit my head getting out of the bath?
The girl brushed my hair as I fidgeted impatiently and asked her questions. Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you, and who was that man? Her only reply was that the master would see me as soon as we were done, and he would answer my questions.
She eventually led me to another small room that had the same ornate windows, and a matching beautiful wooden table. There was another fireplace in here. I sat down at the table, and the girl left the room. A boy came in, and set some soup in front of me. I tried to say hello, but he gave me a terrified look and practically ran from the room.
Soon the man I had first seen came in.
"I'm terribly sorry about what you had to go through," he said. "I have been trying for years to invent a less abrupt method of time transport. But this seems to be the only way, alas. For now, I can only apologize for the alarming nature of your arrival"
As I ate my soup, (having found that I was suddenly extremely hungry), the man explained to me that he was the king's sorcerer. "Sorcerer, wizard, mage, magician, call it what you will. It means nothing to me. All the king knows is that I have studied the magic arts, and all he cares about is what that can do for him and his kingdom."
He told me that the kingdom was at war with several barbarian tribes from the north. Apparently the tribes have banned together under one leader: Childrik. Chrildrik and his army posed a real threat to the kindom with their terrorist strategies. They apparently liked to capture enemies, skin them alive and send their severed heads back with one survivor as a message. If the kingdom and it's outlying areas were overrun with these barbarians, noone would be spared.
I wondered what this could have to do with me. My mind was boggling anyway at the whole thing. Time travel? Barbarians? Magic?
The sorcerer asked me to come with him, and we returned to the room in which I had first arrived. He went over to a table on which sat many strange objects: a hawks claw mounted on a stick, a deck of cards with strange colorful pictures on them, old books bound in very dark red-leather. He picked up a blue silk bag and came back to where I was standing.
"Hold out your hands" he said. I did so.
Out of the bag he took a small glass sphere. It was extremely delicate looking, and he handled it with much care. He placed it into my hands, and I nearly dropped it. It was much heavier than it looked. It felt very solid, and as if it was made of a very heavy metal, not glass. The sorcerer looked surprised when he saw how I handled it. We both stared at this glass ball, me wondering what was going on, he looking more and more disappointed.
Then suddenly, a tiny light appeared in the center of the ball. The sorcerer cried out as it grew brighter and brighter, until it was dazzling, and we could no longer look at it. I had to turn my face away -it was as if I was holding a tiny sun.
The sorcerer reached for the ball, and as soon as it left my hands, the light winked out abruptly. He placed it back in the bag, placed the bag on the table, and turned to look at me again with an extreme intensity in his eyes.
"You are she. It is confirmed." he said. "I have seen you. In my visions, I have seen you leading the armies of this kingdom. I have seen you riding before our enemies with this glass bauble shining in your hands. I have seen you face evil, and I have seen you trample it. I was right to bring you here. You will save us all."

Then I woke up. I wish my dreams would play themselves out so I can find out what happens. It's very frustrating.

Dream: Isolation

I dreamed that I decided that life was too difficult. There were too many terrible things in this world for it to be worthwhile. So I took my leave, and went where I knew I would be bothered by this life's troubles no longer.
I climbed the marble steps of the Temple of Isolation. Michael the Archangel saw me. Before the door could seal shut, he appeared in a shimmering blue light and wedged it open with his sword. He told me that before I finalize my decision, I must walk through the corridor. He pointed at two large oak doors. I walked through and followed the empty, unimpressive maze of hallways. Finally there were no more turns, only a straight corridor that expanded and the ceiling of which rose until it was out of sight. A massive mirror made up the entirety of the far wall.
I hesitated. My apathy wavered. I knew that if I looked into this mirror, I would see Truth. I sould see my decision for what it really was.
I walked towards it slowly, my eyes fixed on the ground. I stopped, my face only a foot away from the mirror. I looked up. In the mirror I saw first my own reflection, then the reflection of my decision. In the mirror I saw the most terrifying, the ugliest, the most horrifying creature. I awoke before I could run screaming from the temple, the blue light of Michael still in sight.

Dream: Magic Cafe

I dreamed that I had to commute a long distance to work once a week. The commute was through a large area of undeveloped arid land, with pockets of wooded areas here and there. My car would break down in the same place every single time, no matter what condition it was in. It always broke down in front of the only building for miles: a chocolate shop. It was also a cafe, with many sun rooms to sit in that overlooked the garden. The garden was full of amazingly colorful plants, none of which I had never seen before. After I had had some coffee and chocolate, and sat in a beautiful sun room for a while, I would try my car again, and it would work perfectly.
The owner of this chocolate and coffee house was an extremely eccentric woman. She was quite young, but she had curly white hair down to her waist. Her large eyes were pale purple, and her aged-silver glasses seemed to change design as you looked at them.
Eventually I began to plan ahead to spend time at the chocoalte shop on each trip. Whenever I planned this, my car would not break down.. I asked the owner about this phenomenon, and she looked at me sternly and said "Well, now there's no reason for it to break down, is there?"

Sleepwalking Poem: Tree of Golden Light

I wrote this the same night I texted with Catheryne the "Sapling" conversation.
I had forgotten about it because after I had written it, I folded it up and put it in the freezer.

First, let me describe the other sleepwalking things I did that night. I'm piecing this together based on my own very vague memories, and the discription of events given to me by Anjin and Chris the next day.
My roommate Anjin and her boyfriend Chris were still awake, in the kitchen. Neither of them had ever seen me sleepwalk before, so this was a first. First thing I did was walk out of my room, grab a bottle of olive oil from the counter, and went back in my room without looking at them. I appeared soon after, and I can't remember the exact order of events, but I made a little structure out of hangers, an empty tissue box, some candles that I have that are shaped like frogs, and a bunch of coins. I sorted the coins first, and layered them symmetrically around the box.
According to Anjin, I found a coin that just didn't fit in with the others. It was only then that I looked up at them. Apparently this really creeped them out, because they didn't know if I knew they were standing there. I insistently handed them the coin, and went back to what I was doing.
I think at one point I had a cd in my hand, and was trying to offer it to the cat...But I can't remember that too well.
Then at some point I sat down and stared at the table for a while. Then I said "I need a pen." Anjin describes my voice as having been high pitched and creepy, like a little girl's voice. Anjin got freaked out and said "We don't have any pens! Go to bed!" but Chris said "She's gonna write something!" And gave me a pen.
I stared at it for a while, then said, "I need paper." Chris got me music staff paper. He was probably hoping I'd write some music.
Instead I wrote a little poem between the staffs. Here it is:


I came upon a tree of golden light.
I met his eyes and let myself sink into them.
I saw my own body and spent the winter shaking
my head at the thought of my old ways.
I drank the sun and filled myself to the
tip of every leaf.
I loved for the first time, everything.


Having written that on the same night as the Sapling texts, made me think I was a tree while I was texting with Catheryne.

Dream: Scurvy

I dreamed I was a young girl in an Inuit tribe. It was probably around the turn of the century, and white explorers and anthropologists were starting to be seen by us more frequently. My tribe was small, but we were connected to several kin groups that lived within a few miles.
This group of missionaries came to our camp, and stayed in their own tent nearby. At first it was not a problem, they were a strange oddity that we girls were asked to stay away from. The old women were very amused by them. The men too, although they kept a close watch on them.
They spoke some of our language, and had the strangest habits. Their clothes were strange and obviously not warm enough. They shivered a lot. Their hair was the color of urine. I had never seen such hair.
They became more and more insistent in their ideas. They talked to the men for hours about something, I never knew what. What did affect me though, was that they were trying to change the way we ate. They insisted that we light fires and roast all the food we caught. They seemed to be shocked by the eating of natural meat. My people did sometimes cook food this way, but mostly we ate seal and caribou meat as it is as soon as it is caught, or frozen. If we did heat it, we usually boiled it for a short time. We began to roast the food. I did not mind, because meant we light fires more often, which I have always enjoyed.
After a period of several weeks, I began to feel sick. I started to get spots all over my body. My once pretty skin looked pale and thin. It hurt to move around.
We realized it was because of the new way of roasting the food. I realized (even though I couldn't' have known this exactly if I was an Inuit girl,) that I wasn't getting any vitamin C. There is Vitamin C in raw seal and caribou meat, but not if it is cooked. (Which is true actually. I remember talking about that in some class many years ago. I had forgotten about it though.)
I started eating raw seal blubber again. But it was too late, and I died of scurvy. I was the first of my tribe to die, but several followed me. The elders decided that these white missionaries were bad spirits, and they were driven out of our camp.

Dream: Sons of Mozart

I dreamed that me and my twin brother were the youngest direct decedents of Mozart. Our father was a very well-off composer who was well known for several famous and near-genius compositions he wrote as a young man. He had not written anything since that time. When asked by the public, he claimed to have a work of utter and unspeakable genius in the works which has taken all this time. He even told this to us, his children. My brother and I have always suspected it to be a lie. We suspected that he had lost his gift.

Growing up, our father taught us the art of music. he taught us the mechanics, the subtleties, and the art. He exposed us to the world's best musicians and composers. After all, the children of the "Next Mozart" should be musical. But we were absolutely forbidden to write music ourselves.
"You're too young," he would say. "You're not ready. You wouldn't' want to write anything you're not proud of. You wouldn't want to disgrace the family name, would you?"

This, despite the fact that he wrote his first symphony when he was twelve, and W.A. Mozart himself when he was only eight. My twin and I were eleven years old. We had been writing music in secret since we were old enough to hold a pen. We wrote duets, mostly, which is understandable. But we also wrote chamber music -quartets and quintets. We performed them ourselves in secret, only able to hear two of the instruments at a time.

Our father had no objection to us learning to play instruments. After all, performance is a lower art, and our jealous father had no qualms with us indulging in it. We spent all waking hours consumed in music -most of our dreaming hours as well. We learned to play everything, and we composed for everything.

One day, my brother and I were playing a duet that I had composed for violin and cello. It was beautiful, its main melody haunting. We were almost crying in happiness as we played, for the sheer joy of playing this new beautiful music. Just before the end, our father burst into the room, tears on his face. We thought he wasn't home. He had been listening in the corridor. He had heard my composition. He had an expression on his face of horror, betrayal, and most of all, fear.

Over the next few months, our father did not speak to us. Our instruments disappeared. It caused us near-unbearable pain to be without them, but we thought it best not to go looking for them just yet. We were eventually informed that within days we were to be sent to St. Noble's Academy for Boys. Students at this school, generally the sons of the wealthy nobility, studied three subjects: accounting, politics and military tactics. More importantly, the arts of every kind were strictly forbidden to the students of the Academy, dismissed as unsuitable for noblemen.

There was only one thing to do, of course: we ran away.
Our father searched for us. To the public he looked like a passionately devoted father looking for his children. We knew the truth. We knew he could not let us go. He needed to be the next Mozart.

We traveled by train, getting as far away as possible. For the first time, we saw the ocean. We stopped in an abandoned fisherman's hut by the sea. We used all the money we had brought with us on paper, pens and a shabby old harpsichord that we spent all day bringing back to the hut. We decided to write an opera, away from our father, and away from Mozart. It would be entirely our own, and it would be perfect.

Sleep Texts: Disgusting Peasant!

What a busy night of texting! I was quite mean to everyone. I'm guessing I must have been some sort of royalty or noblewoman.

Catheryne and I had been talking about a youtube video, and there was an hour long break between my last awake text and this one from her:

Catheryne: Omg, no kidding...but they always make me laugh.

Me: (now asleep) This is no time to laugh. Who do you think you are?

Catheryne: There is always room for laughter even in the most dire situations. I was sent to help you. How may I be of service?

Me: Away with you. I am incapable of tolerating purposeful stupidity.

Catheryne: Purposeful stupidity? Who do you think you are, treating others like that?

Me: Be gone this instant before I call my attendants. You come, peasant, begging a boon, and speak to me thusly. Stupid indeed.

Catheryne: Attendants? HAH! Your attendants do not scare me and neither do you. I simply ask for some kindness, but I can see that your heart is made of stone.

Me: Go away, little boy. It is not worth the energy to have you executed.

Catheryne: I curse you and your family for all eternity! You should think about being nicer to a child next time!

Me: Freakish ingrate, this one. Disgusting.

Catheryne: You're disgusting!


Sorry Catheryne! Also, I don't' think Catheryne was actually a child in my mind. I think she was an adult man, and I was belittling her by calling her little boy. Not sure though, but that's the impression I get from my vague memories of it.

At the same time, I texted Nathan, Ashley and Anjin, who where apparently my attendants.
First with Anjin:
Me: Attendants! Attendants! Remove this idiotic peasant from my presence.

Anjin: Ok, but I wont like it.

Me: Why am I surrounded by insolence in my own court! Remove yourself as well, I will not see you again here.


Then with Nathan:
Me: Attendants! Attendants! Remove this idiotic peasant from my presence.

Nathan: I am sorry my Lady. The peasants grow restless in these times of uncertainty.

Me: Did I ask for your evaluation? I will let you know when you are allowed to have an opinion. Go do as I say.

Nathan: Yes, yes, of course. They shall be thrown from your presence with exceptional enthusiasm.

Me: If I had the energy, I would execute you for sarcasm. Fool.


It's hard to find good attendants these days, apparently.

Sleep Texts: Sapling

Me: (still awake around 11): Are we still all going to the beach tomorrow?

Catheryne(12:46am): Yes 11ish I'm leaving at 2 to go to westside on my way back and then to work at 4

Me (now asleep): Why are you so hasty, young one. Take the Summer to think about where you are.

Catheryne (realizing I'm asleep.): I've been thinking about it, but I haven't come to any conclusions...sigh

Me: Of course you haven't. There are no conclusions to such things. You must learn not to be too hasty.

Catheryne: I'm trying not to be hasty but it's just so hard. I wish I could know now, but it's a good thing I have you to guide me
Catheryne: What do you think I should do?

Lizzy: Hasty questions. Go now and be still.



I remember the dream partially, and I think I was a tree, and Catheryne was a young sapling.

Dream: Five Hearts

My dream last night was less violent, and yet more upsetting than some. Also harder to explain.

I dreamed it was many years in the future, and I was reluctantly going to my mother's funeral. (In real life I am very close to my mom, so any dream about her is usually pretty upsetting. In the dream, we were not close at all, and I hadn't spoken to her for years.)
While going through her stuff, I found a novel that she had written. It was called The Five Hearts that broke Judith. It was about her children, and how one by one they betrayed and hated her, breaking her slowly as a human being until finally she died alone and half insane. There were so many details in the book that I only half remember now that I'm awake. In real life my mom has four children, but in the dream there was a younger sister, Christine, who drowned when none of us were looking. She was only three years old. I don't remember what finally caused me to disown my mom, but I remember that we had a huge fight. I turned to leave, saying this was it -I will never speak to her again. She begged me not to leave her this way, grabbing my hand. I tore my hand away and left.
I finished reading the book in the dream, and felt terrible. I remember there was good reason for me leaving. And my mom wasn't innocent -she was ruining her children's lives as much as we were ruining hers. But the book was so poignant that I wept for all of our sakes.

I think this was a basic category 1/nightmare. But those can be upsetting enough, and I was crying when I woke up.

Sleep Texts: Ember Ring

Me: Fetch me an ember from the hearth, will you? There's a dear.

Alisha: Of course darling. Potion making again?

Me: No, no. Be careful with that, please. Don't go burning us all to bits. If only we could make it into a wearable pendant.

Alisha: If only, but you know what happened when you tried last time. Lets get on with this, are you sure you only need one ember?

Me: Only one. Any more is just showing off. Maybe it would work as a ring?

Alisha: Maybe. It would be more simple than a pendant anyway. What other components shall we use?

Me: Well, a leaf from the gold tree, probably. We wont be able to get one until next month, though.

Alisha: The crystalline heather may already be ready. Although the color isn't very fireish. Sunlight?

Me: Perhaps some pomegarnets?

Alisha: Delicious and gorgeous!! I'll go fetch some from the royal gardens right away. How many will we need for the setting? Four at most I should think, for a ring.




I love the idea of Pomegarnets! Like a pomegranate fruit, but with garnets inside.

Dream: Elvenkrist

(pronunciation note: Elvenkrist =the krist is not pronounced like Christ, but with the short i as in Chris. Daetian = Day-shun.)

I dreamed that I lived in a large house with my mother and many servants. I never had a father, and I never thought to ask about him. My mother and the maids always insisted that I keep my bed next to the window in my bedroom. My window faced the front of the house. If you stood in the garden, you could see my entire bed clearly. I could see the stars as I fell asleep.

I was usually a very deep sleeper, but occasionally I would sleep restlessly. During these nights, I always sensed a powerful presence, strong and watchful. I thought it was just a recurring dream. On one such night, I could feel myself rising towards the surface of wakefulness. I opened my eyes slightly and saw a man standing outside my window gazing down on me. I was too sleepy to be startled. He was a tall, barrel-chested man with a shaggy beard and a powerful intensity in his eyes. Looking into them, I saw a deep sadness.
"Father." I said aloud, startling myself.

The intense sadness deepened for a moment before he hurried away. I got dressed as fast as I could and followed him. I followed him to an area outside town, through the vast forest. He hurried into a medium sized house surrounded by acres of trees.

The dream cut to after I had confronted him. He confirmed that he was my father. I decided to stay with him whether he allowed me to or not I asked him why he had never spoken to me before. He replied that it was in my own best interest, and that I was never to ask him again.
During my stay with him, he would disappear for a while every day and not tell me where he went. On on e of these days, I became bored in the house, and, disobeying my father, went exploring in the forest. After wandering for an hour or so, I heard voices in the distance. I followed the sound and came to an enormous clearing. There was about a hundred people in the clearing, all dressed very strangely. After a few moments, I realized that the people themselves were odd. Some had glowing eyes, some had elongated ears. They were grouped in a large circle, their attention fixed on something in the center.

I stepped closer to get a better look, and in the center I saw my father -who was floating ten feet above the ground. I gasped aloud and everyone turned. My father saw me and fell, startled, to the ground.We all stared at each other for a few moments in silence. Then someone from the back who appeared to have the legs of a goat said loudly:
"I told ya she'd find out. I told ya you shouldnt've left her out of it. I told ya. Didn't I tell ya?"
"Quit your bleatin, Lunious." someone else yelled.
My father came up to me with that same ancient sadness in his eyes.
"I guess it's time I explained some things." he said.

He explained to me that there were many great races in the world. In the Golden Era, they were separate, each race breeding only with its own kind. But since the Golden Wars have been over and peace has reigned between the races, there was a lot of interbreeding and nearly everyone was a mixture of two or three. My father told me that he was King of the Gypsy races, but even he had some leprechaun, vampirial and some even some Jinn blood in his side of the family. As King of the Gypsies, he held the highest ranking in this part of the world. I learned later that there had been some trouble in other parts of the world. Some wanted to renew the Golden Wars and outlaw interbreeding. As King, my father had been the leader of the armies of this part of the world.

After the day in the forest clearing, everyone who needed to see my father came freely to the house. At any given moment there were ten to fifteen people of all types in the house doing various tasks. There was one man who was there everyday. His name was Daetian, and he was high in the chain of command of the Golden Armies. he would have everyone believe that he was a full-blooded vampire, but it was rumored that he had some demon blood in him. He had nearly-glowing blue eyes, and black hair. He was unrealistically handsome. It was said that he was first choice for my father to appoint as general of the armies. They spent a lot of time strategizing, discussing battle tactics. I distrusted Daetian or no real reason. Maybe it was because I had never met a vampire before. Whatever the reason, I mostly stayed away from him.

The day came when my father had to make the decision of who would be general. Daetian was at the house, as usual, going about the usual tasks with an impatient, eager manner. My father spoke in a casual tone:
"Daetian, Lunious has been evaluated as a candidate for general, and was appointed. The decision will be posted later today."
Across the strategy table, Daetian froze.
"What?" he said in a very quiet voice. My father took out a piece of paper.
"I have the orders right here. I just need to sign it." His voice took on a note of warning. "these are my orders, Daetian."

Daetian continued to stare at my father as if his gaze could pierce through him. I was in the room throughout this exchange. I was on Daetian's side of the table, leaning my back against the wall. Then, quicker than I had ever seen anything move, Daetian had a dagger out from somewhere inside his jacket, and pressed it against my throat. I had had no time to react, and I was pinned against the wall. My breath got faster and I looked at my father. His eyes narrowed in fury, his white knuckled hands gripped the table. Daetian spoke:
"Write my name on the papers, sign it, and pass them slowly over the table," he said quietly, almost casually, "or I kill the Elvenkrist."

Even in this situation, with the flat of his ruby-hilted dagger pressing hard against my throat, I couldn't help but think "the what? Elvenkrist?" My confusion must have shown on my face because Daetian suddenly grinned at me with amusement and disbelief. He addressed my father, but his eyes stayed on me.

"You still haven't told her, have you, your majesty?" he laughed. He spoke to me:
"You still don't' know what you are, do you? This is priceless! Allow me to enlighten you."
"Daetian." My father hissed in fierce warning. Daetian ignored him.

He explained that I was the Elvenkrist from the prophecies of the Golden Era. The Elvenkrist, he explained was a perfect hybrid of all the Great Races, and who is royally born. It is said that the Elvenkrist, if taught properly, would have all the powers of each race. After this the prophesy is vague. Some say the Elvenkirst will bring peace to all the races and finally put a complete end to any talk of war. Some say the Elvenkrist will bring continuous war. Some say the Elvenkrist will bring about purity of race once more.

I know, looking into my father's sad eyes, that this was the reason he had given me up as a child. he wanted me to have a happy life, away from terrors of war.
"Now," said Daetian, turning his hate filled gaze back on my father, "I wont have you ruining my fun. I will have my war. Sign the papers, old man."

My father, after several moments of hesitation during which the blade at my throat pressed tighter, signed the papers in golden ink, and pushed them at Daetian. Daetian also signed them.
"Thank you, your majesty." he grinned again. "Now if you will excuse me, I have important business to attend to." He put the dagger back into his jacket, but before I could edge away, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him.
"I think I'll take the little Elevnkristita. The cheeky blighter's growing on me."
"No!" screamed my father as he dove across the table. Suddenly, it was as if reality melted.

The next thing I knew I was in a small room with no furniture and no windows, still held in Daetian's grip. Apparently, vampires could disappear and reappear at will. I blacked out.
I don't know how much time passed before I came to. I was alone and shackled to the ground in the middle of the room. Daetian opened the door and entered.
"It's a shame you were never trained." he said bemusedly . "You would know how to get yourself out of this predicament."

He began to move around me in a circle, slowly.
"Do you know what vampires do, little Elvenkrist?" He smiled wolfishly."They absorb people's essences. Their power. Just think of the power that passes though your veins."
I didn't' know this at that moment, but when a vampire is about to bite someone, the victim's veins begin to glow golden. I looked down at my arms I could make out each vein as it shown through my skin like a brilliant golden light.

Then I woke up! x_x

Dream: Apple Tree Savior

Last night all I dreamed was that I was being chased by an evil ghost of a little girl, and I ran right into a lion's den and was ripped apart and eaten. Since that's just a short uninteresting little nightmare, here is a dream from a few weeks ago that I had written down:

I dreamed I was a nun. Another nun and I were the only people living in a small convent in the countryside next to a small town. We were both quite young and even attractive, but everyone in the town disliked us and shunned our little church. We knew it was important to bring people back to the church and to restore the dignity of the convent. We prayed to God for a miracle in desperation. God's messenger visited both of us in a dream saying that a miracle would come to us in the apple orchard.
The next day, we waited by the apple trees in front of the sanctuary. There was a ladder leaning up against the trunk of the largest apple tree. The tree started to creak loudly, and the trunk split open at the top. Down the ladder stepped a man. We knew immediately that it was Jesus, but his body was completely made out of wood from the apple tree. The wood moved almost as freely as a body made of flesh. When he got to the bottom of the ladder, he looked at us with such complex intensity, then stumbled as though he was unused to such a form. The other nun and I caught him and turned to bring him inside. We noticed then that there was a man standing on the path that led to the village. He was an old rival of our convent, always convincing the other villagers that we were not to be trusted to spread the word of God. He had seen what had just happened and he turned and ran down the path to the villagers. Before we were halfway to the sanctuary doors, most of the villagers were mobbing towards us, yelling for us to give up our Lord Jesus to them. They screamed that we were not fit to have him. Jesus belonged to the village, they yelled. We were terrified and went as quickly as possible into the sanctuary and bolted the doors behind us. We set the now unconscious Jesus down on a small bed in an antechamber as the villagers pounded on the giant doors.
We stood in the church looking at each other, not knowing what to do next when suddenly two men ran out from the shadows. One went after the other nun who ran into the hallway and out of sight. The other put a silver arrow to his bow, advancing while I retreated. I tripped on the alter steps. He set his drawn arrow in front of my face.
"Where is my Lord?" he said very quietly.

Then I woke up suddenly. I hate waking up at moments like this. I'll never get to know what happens! grrrr

Dream: Drunken Babies?

I dreamed there was a new societal order put in place, and everyone was assigned a job. This certainly isn't a new idea, I think I read a book cover that had a similar premise the other day, and my brain was probably toying around with it.
But I dreamed that both my friend Catheryne and I were assigned to be prostitutes. High class prostitutes, but still. I absolutely refused to accept this as my permanent occupation. So I ran away.
At one point in the dream, I needed to hide from the authorities that were after me. So I ducked into what I thought was a factory, stole some clothing and tried to blend in for a few hours. It turned out to be a research laboratory. In this wing of the lab, they were testing the effects of alcohol and possible hangover cures on babies. Something about babies being a better test subject because they were free of the environmental toxins of adults. (It made sense in the dream). There were hundreds of babies being fed alcohol, and I couldn't possibly save them and had to leave them behind.

Most of the dream was running and hiding from the authorities. I think at the end of the dream, I was captured and brought back to the "Companion house." I just thought the idea of baby hangovers was weird enough include here.

Dream: Battle

Every once in a while I have a dream that consists completely of a battle. These dreams are usually extremely long, very very detailed and gory. They take place in different time periods. I am always a male in these dreams. I wake up exhausted with feelings of post traumatic shock. It wears off, but still -these are some of my least favorite dreams.

Last night I seemed to be an ancient Celt. I think my name was Drusten? That's what my countrymen yelled at me when they saw me on the battlefield, warning me or calling for help.
We were not speaking English in this dream. (Although, it's my subconscious, so it must have been English, but I woke up remembering words that were shouted, and they were not English. Although I do remembered what they meant.)
We were fighting an enemy that in my dream seemed extremely alien to me, but now that I'm awake I realize they were Romans. We were losing. These Romans seemed like demons to me.
I carried a giant double bladed axe. I was one of the only men in my tribe who could weild it, which was a great source of pride to me. It was a formidable weapon, and did cut through the Roman armor, if I was lucky enough to land a blow. I killed so many people in this dream. But the Romans were faster, more numerous and better armed. I was shocked by how many of countrymen fell around me. I saw my father fall. I was too late to save him, but I cleaved his killer nearly in two with my axe. My father had been an important person in my tribe, which meant that I must now take his place. I tried not to think about it during the battle.
I can't remember the end of the dream. Just the image of looking around at all the carnage around me and realizing that these foreign demons were going to be victorious over my people. My people, who have never lost a battle.

These battle dreams are very disturbing. I live every moment of the battle, and I can remember details you shouldn't remember from dreams: pain, smell, the feeling of rain and blood in my eyes as I try to see, increasing fatigue, sunburn and dehydration. These are senses I shouldn't be experiencing from a dream.

Dream: Soul in Hand

I dreamed I was riding in my friend Ashley's convertible with my other friends, Anjin, Catheryne and April. We were driving down Mayfield rd when suddenly a car going 70mph in oncoming traffic swerved into our lane and hit us head on. We were all killed.
We woke up in the middle of a dark forest. After asking around to make sure all of us were okay, we noticed each of us held in our hand a ball of glowing light. Everyone's was a different color.
Mine was indigo purple.
Aprils was royal blue.
Ashley's was orange.
Catheryne's was rose pink.
Anjin's was emerald green.
We didn't know what these glowing balls were, but we knew somehow that they were extremely important. None of us wanted to set them down, or put them away, so we just kept them in our hands.
Not knowing what else to do, we started walking through the forest, trying to find anyone or anythign that could give us some answers. Eventually we came to the edge of the woods, and saw a small cottage. A short, odd-looking man was chopping wood out front.
"Excuse me," we called to him. He looked up, startled and unfriendly. We tried to ask him where we were. He didn't seem to be listening. He was staring at my left hand where I was unsuccessfully trying to conceal the indigo light that was shining through my fingers. His eyes widened.
"Put that away!" he hissed. We stared at him in surprise.
"Get in the house. Go!" he whispered frantically. We fled quickly through the door. The woodcutter followed us, looking around at the forest fearfully as he shut the door. Inside was a large, comfortable room with a big wooden table and a woodstove. A small plump woman was busy cooking something. She looked around at us all in surprise when we walked in.
"What's all this then?" she asked. Then she caught sight of Ashley's glowing orange ball and her eyes grew wide and fearful.
"What do you mean, bringing them in here!?" she hissed at her husband. "The last thing we need is that kind of trouble!"
"Hush, wife." he said. "Can't you see they don't even know where they are? If we let them go by themselves, they'd be killed in hours."
We all sat at the table and they asked us our story. We told them that the last thing we remembered was the car accident, and they nodded as if this confirmed soemthing they had already suspected. They told us that sometimes when people in our world die, but were not supposed to die, they came to this world. It didn't' happen often, but often enough that everyone of this world knew of it. They told us that our only chance of regaining our lives and returning to our world was to petition the King, who lived in a palace in the center of the kingdom. There we would have to present our case to the King's bureaucrats and wait for the chance to petition the King directly. He would then decide whether or not you should return to your life, or remain here until you died properly.
We asked them why they were so afraid when they first saw us. They gave each other a knowing look, then the woodcutter took a deep breath. He told us that the glowing balls we carried in our hands were our souls. Only those from our world had them. If you lost your soul, you would die completely. He told us that our souls were extremely valuable in this world. They could be cut up and used as an ingredient in very rare, very powerful magic. An entire otherworld soul was worth more than most people made in their lifetimes.
"There are many," the woodcutter's wife said grimly, "who would be willing to kill you for even a tiny piece of your soul. Even the most kindhearted might be tempted. You must disguise yourselves. Try to blend in until you get to the palace. Keep those souls hidden! Especially from the warlocks..."
Warlocks? I asked. They exchanged another look.
They told us that the warlocks were a species of very powerful magic users. There was an unstable peace between the worlocks and the King. Our souls, they told us, were a tremendous source of power for the warlocks. They could sense them. If they didn't know of our presence yet, they would soon and they would be after us with horrible determination.
"Never stay in one place too long, or they will catch up with you." The woodcutter said. "Even information about you would be extremely valuable, if anyone is foolish enough to try to deal with warlocks."
The woodcutter and his wife gave us some new clothes to help disguise ourselves, and some provisions for the journey. They also gave us each something extremely valuable: small leather bags that were spelled to preserve the magic of their contents. We hid our souls in these bags, and wore them on a string around our necks, under our clothes. We were extremely touched by their kindness and generosity. They waved us away and wished us luck with grim expressions.

There was one point of the dream when we learned that the warlocks had been growing more and more powerful. One warlock had figured out a way to travel to our world for a short time. We found out much later that he was the driver of the other car that had hit us. We also learned that the souls that burn brightest are the souls of artists. We had been targeted, and our souls would give the warlocks enough power to take over their own world, and perhaps others.

Sleep Texts: Spice Merchant Again!

It's unusual for there to be a continuing theme in sleep texting. Although The cactus book theme was rather long-running a few years ago. Obviously whatever I have to say to the spice merchant is very important. In the other texts I said he knows where my husband has been taken.
This message I sent to my friends Chris and Adam, and one of my professors. It's the third time I have sleep texted this professor, which is rather mortifying. Luckily, he knows about it, and finds it entertaining.
Only Adam responded. Here is the short conversation:

Me: I have sought and found the blue rose of forgetfulness. Now, where is he who will trade with me for secrets?

Adam: I am a minstrel -well traveled, much loved, yet lonely. I have many secrets. Which secrets do you want in trade for your lovely rose?

Me: I want no musical secrets. Go away, if you cannot tell me where the spice merchant is.

Adam: Is that the spice merchant's ship I see approaching on the horizon? Sails billowing, flags flying, making good speed! Is this his ship?


Haha, nice responses, Adam. It's funny how my crazy subconscious brings out the creativity of my friends.

Dream: Lost Soldier

All I remember about last night's dream was that I was a soldier that had been wounded, and left on the battlefield because I was presumed to be dead. The dream had a medieval feel to it, and I think the war might have been the crusades. I was unconscious for weeks because of my injuries. When I awoke from that unconsiousness I was in a strange bed, in a room I didnt' recognize. It was night and my bed was by the window. I could see a huge city lit spread out below this window, as the house was high on a hill in the city. I could see torches, and candles in people's windows. I had never seen a city before because I was raised in a small village. It was beautiful. I remember very vividly the breeze from the window blowing across my half-bandaged face, bringing with it the smell of people's fireplaces. I couldn't move, but I started to cry.

When I woke up from this dream, I was sitting up looking out the window next to my bed. I really was crying, and it took me several minutes to regain my own identity. It was very confusing.

Sleep Texts: Fire Demon

This happened a few weeks ago. I was saving it for a post when I didn't dream anything worth writing the night before. This is probably the most epic of all the sleep texting. It's certainly the longest. I haven't spoken much to Kane in the past few years -we knew each other in high school. But he knew from facebook that I had been sleep texting people. So he was ready when he received a text from me.

Me: Why is the snow melting so fast? I think this is a bad sign. You should turn back, its too dangerous.

Kane: The mission is too important. Why do you think it's a bad sign? We have to go on!

Me: It only just started melting. And I have a feeling I'm the one causing it. The deeper we go into this wood, the tighter his influence is on me.

Kane: Whose influence? Why haven't you told me? You know I can't do this without you.
Kane: (after a long pause in which I don't reply): Your silence is damning.

Me: I know full well you have heard the strange stories that have come forth about my parentage. He is after me now, in exchange for the safety of the village. Go back and tell my mother I forgive her for keeping the truth from me.

Kane: Your mother would never forgive me if I let you go alone. What weapons do you have?

Me: Only water from the sacred spring. There is no weapon against a demon of fire. All he demands is me. I must claim my heritage to save the village.

Kane: What makes you think you can trust him? Have you forgotten the siege?

Me: The what? Is the wood madness beginning already upon you? You must go back. He will only kill you if you come with me.

Kane: You're not ready! Please, there has to be another way!

Me: Already his influence is closing on me. The snow melts in a radius around me. I will die, or be like him. You have been a brother to me, but He may use me to hurt you.

Kane: Did you forget the amulet my father gave me? It's old but there's still magic in it. His influence is too strong for you to resist alone!

Me: I cannot take it. It will melt in my hand. My skin is growing hotter. Touch my arm, carefully. Do I burn you?

Kane: It's...warm...hot even, but I can take it.

Me: It's protecting you, then. I'm afraid my father is awakening the fire within me. He said I can burn gods. I'm afraid of what he will use me for.

Kane: If it's protecting me, surely I can help. Are you sure he can be burned.

Me: Of course not. My father is fire. I fear he means to use me against the gods

Kane: Then how will you overcome him? Or do you even want to anymore?

Me: There is no victory. I go to save the village. He wants only me in return.

Kane: If he kills the gods the people of the village will wish they were dead.

Me: What are you suggesting then? Already I grow both weaker and so much stronger.

Kane: There are other sources of magic than your father's fire. Whatever he wants you to do, you need to avoid!

Me: No.
Me: I am lost.
Me: I am lost.

Kane: I know. But it's not too late to turn back and strategize.
Kane: Think of your mother
Kane: Are you there?

Dream: After World's End

I dreamed that natural disasters had devastated the world. I survived along with about fifty others. It was a mix of people who had previously been strangers to me, and people I had known -friends, a couple acquaintances. For all we knew, we were the only survivors in the world. We had not seen anyone outside our group in over a year, and it was too dangerous to venture outside. There were horrible blizzards and volcanic eruptions -sometimes at the same time.

There were some disagreements in the group about the best place to live and the best ways to survive. We eventually split into two groups. The group I stayed with lived in a small settlement we built ourselves in a a narrow ravine out of wood and shale rock. The others lived in a series of caves about two miles away. There were people in each group that had been rivals even before the trouble started.

Eventually competition for resources coupled with old rivalries and the insanity of isolation created violence between the two groups. It escalated when a fight ended in one of ours killing one of theirs. Full war broke out between us, manifesting in secret raids and lethal sabotage. The leaders of each group grew insane in their obsession with destroying each other.

At one point, what we thought were zeppelins appeared above us, and rescue workers came down to take a few of us at a time. to where they said other humans had built a society, safe from the natural hazards. We wept in relief. WE sent first a few people that needed to reach civilization first: a pregnant woman, three young teenagers and and old man. When they reached the zeppelin, the latter was suddenly drawn up and all five of our group members were flung overboard. They fell to their deaths right in front of us. The "rescue" workers were the other group. They had somehow constructed a small zeppelin-like flying device to search for signs of civilization.

Apart from our leader, of whom we were all terrified and to whom we were all in debt for our survival, our group tried to live in peace. I lived slightly apart, not knowing everyone as well as they knew each other.

A terrible winter came. The other group was becoming more efficient at finding food than we were. Our group would not survive the winter unless something changed. These problems caused so much fighting and stress among us that I took to being by myself more and more. I was walking outside on a milder day, just along the outside of a cave nearby our settlement. I sang a song I had learned from my mother before she died in the collapse of a building. It was a beautiful lamenting art song. I heard something on the opposite ledge and stopped singing. I turned to find three other-group members watching me. One of them was their leader. I froze, terrified, knowing it was too late. But they did nothing. They watched me with expressions I couldn't read,. Eventually they simply turned and left.

Later, we were visited by a messenger from the other group. He offered enough food to last our group through the winter. The only thing they wanted in return was me. The group raged at the messenger, who just stood there watching me calmly. I thought about it. What could they want me for? If they wanted to kill me, they would have done it near the cave. Either I go with them, or my people die.

I agreed. Food was left for my protesting, crying group. I went with the messenger.
I was led down into the caves. It was cold and the hallways were lit with torches. I entered a room deep below the mountain. This room was lined with fabric and was lit by oil lamps. The Leader sat at an old piano. I marveled at it, wondering where they salvaged it from.

"You are not a guest here." he told me with unblinking eyes. "I have brought you here for one reason and one reason only."
I was terrified. My mind raced with ways I could possibly escape.
"I have brought you here," he continued. "to teach you music."
I didn't move. "...what?"
"I heard you in the cave mouth. It was the first time in years I have heard a singing voice. You see, I play," he gestured to the old piano. "But I cannot sing. Everyone else in this society is about as musical as a pile of shit."
I just gaped at him.

He explained that he had been a conductor before the world's end. He had been driven slightly mad from lack of music ever since. He told me he would teach me what he knew. I was a musical slave. I was to learn opera. He would keep me alive so long as I continued to learn and perform music.

Sleep Texts from Last Night: More Spice Merchant

This time it wasn't initiated by me! I'm amused and only a little annoyed. My roommate and a friend who was visiting (April), waited until I was asleep for about a half hour, then sent me this message:

Ashley: April wants you to sleepwalk. Can you?

Me: When is April? And who are you?

Ashley: I am a friend. I come in peace. April is after the full moon.

Me: Go away. You are strange to me, and you smell of barley.

Ashley: Why can't I come with you?

Me: I don't know you, stranger. Be gone. I wait here for the spice merchant. I have waited for ten days. I will wait another ten if necessary.

Ashley: The spice merchant is dead.

Me: Don't lie to me!

Ashley: Why would I lie about that?

Me: If the merchant is dead, then so is my Anuin. And I cannot accept that. Go back to your little life and let me be.

Ashley: You will be waiting forever then! When did you last see Anuin?



I was pretty mean to Ashley there. lol. I guess I didn't appreciate her initiation conversation with me. She was probably just a stranger in the dream who came up to me and tried to have a conversation. "You smell of barley" made me laugh a lot this morning. What does barley smell like? O_o

Dream: The Tea Drinker

Let me preface this one: I'm not sure why I keep having religious-themed dreams. This dream does not in any way reflect upon my beliefs or opinions. It's just a dream -and an interesting story.

I dreamed I was a satanist. I lived in a satanist monastery that looked like a Californian mission, but the walls were made out of obsidian. It was in a very pretty, naturesque location. Across the narrow dirt road from us was a Christian monastery with monks. There was an ancient pact between the two monasteries that we would never harm each other or go onto each other's property. We teased each other from across the road. We hated each other in a familiar, almost friendly sort of way.

I held a high position within our monastery. I was second in command, next to Satan, in our order. We all knew Satan well. He was sort of like our adopted father. He was a creepy looking man with yellowish white hair, like a long-time smoker. He was shorter than me, but had a huge, intimidating presence. His eyes were always a different color. He visited me often, because I was his next in command on this part of the earth.

One day, I went to Hell with him for a visit, which was a great honor. It was an extremely large underground cavern, lit by an eerie blue light. The floor was water, except for a scattering of stepping stones. It was extremely cold. There was noone else there, but it looked as if the cavern went on forever. I suspected that this wasn't the whole of Hell, just what he was allowing me to see at that moment.

Satan told me that he loved me, and that he wanted to officially adopt me as his child. I knew that this was only granted to one soul forever. It meant that I would sit at his right hand in Hell after I died. It meant that I would be second only to Satan in all the universe. Satan was, of course, second only to God, but we didn't talk about Him. Satan seemed touchy on the subject.

We performed the tea ceremony that would make me his child. I drank the tea that was colder than any substance on earth. I knew I was supposed to feel different afterwards, but I didn't. I certainly looked different. I wore a black cloak and my face was white and mask-like. I knew this was a permanent physical change.

After the tea ceremony, Satan suddenly grew more fierce looking. I saw him then as an extremely intense concentration of power contained within the form of a frail looking, creepy old man. As powerful as I knew he was, this felt like the first time I was ever allowed to comprehend him.

He suddenly seized me by the throat and lifted me off the ground. He said: "You are now my child. I have given you your life. None but me can take it. You shall be spared from the torments of Hell. You, my child, will be the cause of them."
The next moment I was back in my room in the monastery.

Later, I stood outside alone, watching the Christian monks go about their business across the road. They stole curious glances at my new appearance. I thought about my life.
I had never asked to be a satanist. I was chosen by him as a child, and had spent most of my life in the monastery. I thought about the honor that had been bestowed upon me. Why wasn't I happy about it. Why wasn't I proud?

A thought crossed my mind as two monks walked past me in the road.
"You! Christians!" I called.
They looked around at me in surprise. It was unusual for us to try to speak to each other, besides the odd jeer cat-called across the road.

I asked them how people became Christian -purely out of curiosity, of course. I had never thought about it before. They told me that those who accepted and loved God and His son could be saved from Hell. They told me this with a mocking, jovially-hostile tone. I asked if anyone could be saved.
"Yes."
"Even a child of the dark one?"
"...Yes."
"Even the one who has drank his tea? One who is guaranteed the right hand?"
They looked at each other, and the humor fell from their faces. I saw a glimmer of fear. They said they didn't know, that they would ask the Prior. Then they hurried away. They were only novices after all.

I thought a great deal about what they had said. Never in my life had I harbored doubts. Never had I questioned my place, or his right to rule me.

Later, my fellow satanists and I were loading ourselves into the back of our blue truck. (Ok, so up to this point the dream took place in the past, maybe late 1600s style. But now we have trucks. It's a dream. go figure.) All satanist monasteries have blue trucks, Christians drove red trucks. I saw that next to us, the Christians were loading themselves into their red truck. One shouted at me:
"Hey! We asked! Apparently even the tea drinker can be saved if he really wanted to be." Everyone in both trucks started laughing uproariously at the idea. I gave the satanists a thoughtful look, then stepped down from the blue truck, and climbed into the red truck. The laughter stopped.
"I have decided to be Christian now." I said.
Every face, satanist and Christian alike, took on a look of absolute shock.
"What?!" someone shouted.
I told the Christians to drive away, quickly.

The car was silent for a long time.
"What just happened?" one of them asked finally, as they all threw amazed looks at me. I sat silently with my elbows on my knees, head in hands.
"The dark child just stepped down from the blue truck..." another one replied in awe.
"Yes..." I said, shaking my head slowly in disbelief. "And Satan's gonna kill me."

Dream

I dreamed that the Pope decreed that we may only listen to music in C Major, because accidentals are sinful.

Classifications

I think of my own dreams and sleepwalking experiences as having classifications. I have no idea if there are such things in the sleep study world, but I doubt it.

Dreams
Category 1: Normal dreams. -these are the dreams everyone has. They usually involve things from your everyday life. You are usually yourself in this dream. They don't make very much sense, and are therefore hard to explain in words.

Category 2: Nightmares -self evident. This can be combined with either type 1 or 3, or can stand on it's own.

Category 3: Epic Dreams -These dreams are long, and extremely vivid. They usually involve an explainable plot, characters, and are set not in my own life. I often don't play myself in this kind of dream. My dream about being half-angel and visiting hell falls in this category.

It's true that there are dreams that fall somewhere between normal and epic, but usually it falls into one category more than the other.

Sleepwalking
Category 1: Normal.
This is my least coherent type of sleepwalking, and what I hear about when other people talk about their sleepwalking experiences. Usually this involves walking around in a confused nature. I often just walk around touching various objects without any apparent intentions. Often this includes just standing up, or sitting up while sleeping. This category also includes just sleeptalking too. In this type, I do not respond when spoken to (unless I'm just talking, not walking around). I don't notice other people in the room. No problem solving skills. I hardly ever remember these events.

Category 2: Motor function: No Interaction.
This type includes the ability to solve problems, such as walking around the table instead of into it. In this stage I usually build little structures/sculptures out of the things in the house, sort coins, make designs out of candles etc. This is also the stage where I text, and write. If someone speaks to me in this stage, I usually don't respond. Even if I am aware of other people being there, they don't factor into what I'm doing and there is little or no interaction. Only sometimes do I remember type 2 or 3, but whatever memories I have will be confusing and distant, like the memories of dreams.

Category 3: Walking + Talking. Interaction.
This is the rarest type for me. This is when I am walking around, interacting with my environment physically and verbally. If there are other people there, I will interact with them. They usually play some sort of role in the dream I am having. In this stage, I usually can figure things out very well in my environment, such as doorknobs/locks etc.


I read that it is impossible to sleep walk or talk while dreaming. Dreaming only occurs during REM sleep, during which time your body is paralyzed. I'm not sure, then, why I usually remember contexts when I have memory of sleepwalking. I can picture the dream I was having, often quite clearly. What I'm guessing is that I have the dream either before or after, then my brain is firing randomly when I'm out of REM sleep, causing me to do things, then my brain makes the connection after I wake up. I'm not a neurologist, and have studied only the basics in the science of sleep, so I really have no idea. But you're always hearing about the brain bridging connections like that.

Anyway. Those are my classifications. As useless and useful as any classifications are.