Home for Christmas

I'm at my mother's house for the holidays. Last night we apparently had a full conversation in the middle of the night when she got up. I remember none of it, not one word. She thought I was awake. A good start to the holidays.

On the plane, I tried very hard not to sleep. I dozed for one moment, and woke up yelling  "WHAT!?" I startled the poor guy next to me, and had to apologize.

Also, my cat is so happy to see me that I woke up every couple of hours because he head-butted me in the middle of the night. With most cats, that's a gentle thing, but my cat is huge. He also tried to sleep directly on my face at one point.
It's good to be home.

Sleep Texting: Too many to handle.

Sleep texting with Sarah last night. I don't remember doing this, as usual. I didn't have any relevant dreams to accompany it. This is my second time sleeptexting with Sarah, so she knew what was going on.


Me: Twenty thousand of them. I can't believe it!

Sarah: What should we do? There are so many!

Me: We'll just have to learn how to ride them. You will have to get your moth licence.

Sarah: Don't you think that will take too long?

Me: It's the law, regardless. We might have to hire a moth wrangler or two until then.

Sarah: I think we will need more than 2 to handle twenty thousand. In the mean time I think I want to try to ride one!


Moth wranglers? O_o
I'm guessing either the moths are huge, or we are very small. Twenty thousand giant moths is an unsettling idea.

Dream: (warning: Explicit Language)

I wouldn't normally post something like this. But I will, for two reasons. 1. It's kinda funny and had me giggling when I woke up. 2. Not much has happened lately in terms of sleeptexting or sleepwalking.


In this dream, I was the Queen of a vast country and its many provinces. The dream consisted of me sitting on my throne while one by one, people came up and informed me of problems around the country. Land disputes, economic issues, water shortages in one province, duels among the nobility. To every single problem that was told to me, I had the same answer:

"I don't give a flying fuck about that."

The subject who had informed me of their problem would then bow, and leave. Then the next in line would approach. I always listened benevolently to them. My answer had no aggression or malice behind it. It was simply my honest answer.
 I've never used that phrase in my waking life. It was an oddly satisfying dream, though.

Dream: The new solution to Infertility.

I had a gross dream last night that I wouldn't post about, except that the concept is interesting enough in a creepy, sci-fi kind of way.

I dreamed that pregnancy kits were available in vending machines. Basically, you put $10 into the vending machine to purchase a small, insertable capsule, which contained donated sperm. In the kit was a variety of three capsules to choose from, from three different donors. The kit contained a little notebook with pictures and information about the potential fathers. You chose one of these, or if you didn't like your choices, you could try a different row in the vending machine, which carried different donors.

I dreamed I ran into an old friend. She was pregnant and I congratulated her. She told me that her husband turned out to be infertile, so she had purchased one of these vending machine pregnancy kits.

I was a little creeped out when I woke up. Buying sperm from a vending machine? Ew.

Sleeptext: Dangerous reading

First post in a while. I haven't been doing much in my sleep worth writing about the past couple weeks. I have woken up a lot to find myself sitting up. But not much else.

I texted Jake late last night. He was asleep and didn't respond. Here's what I said to him:

"Oh, be careful with that book. I heard it starts to eat you if you fall asleep reading it. That's why every once in a while, one of the chapters is really boring. The book does it on purpose because it wants you to fall asleep."


What a creepy idea.

Smoking Dreams

Most of my dreams last night were centered around cigarettes. I spent the whole time either look for cigarettes or smoking. I was even smoking a tobacco pipe at one point.
As I've said before, I have never smoked a cigarette in my waking life, but I dream about them all the time.

I have come up with a theory.
Whenever I have smoking dreams, I wake up the next morning with a headache. I often wake up gasping. I have never been officially diagnosed with apnea, but I know for sure that sometimes I hold my breath in my sleep.
I think my subconscious makes up the smoking scenario because I'm not breathing normally as I sleep. I need to take deep, real breaths, so my dreaming self is associating it with something you inhale.

I've had smoking dreams for years and years, and this only just occurred to me. I wonder if there's some truth in the idea.
Or maybe I was a chain smoker in a past life. :p

Sleeptexting: Flower

I didn't even have this friend's number in my phone until two days ago. Already I am sleeptexting him!

It was at 2am, so he was asleep and didn't respond. This is what I said to him:

"Have you been experimenting with the flowers in the window box? They are almost as big as the windows!"

That would be rather suspicious.

Dream: Behind the Wooden Door.

I  had a little nightmare last night that freaked me pretty badly in the middle of the night.

I dreamed that I lived in an old chateau. It was an extremely large estate and there were many rooms that I did not use.
I dreamed that one day I was looking for an antique mirror that I knew I had somewhere in one of the unused rooms. I was looking around when I noticed a staircase at the other end of the room that I couldn't remember having been there before. I walked over the the staircase and saw that it led downwards to somewhere I had never been. I walked slowly down the stairs, curious. The walls went from being white plaster, to being brown stone. I was in some sort of cavern.

I could hear a rattling sound coming from straight ahead of me. As I made my way down this cavernous hallway, the rattling got louder, and I thought I could make out a small voice humming.

The hallway widened, and I came upon a thick wooded door, with a bolt and a doorknocker on the outside. The door was shaking slightly, causing the doorknocker to make the rattling sound. There was a voice coming from behind the door. It was humming very softly.  Beneath the sound of the humming was a very quiet growling sound.

I said, "Hello?" There was no response.
I went up to the door, and took the heavy doorknocker in both hands. The knock wasn't loud exactly, but the sound echoed for much longer than it should have around the cavern.
The humming stopped, but the growling did not.  I heard a giggle from behind the door. Then the voice started to laugh. It wasn't a loud laugh, but there was something utterly disturbing about it, and it echoed around the cavern like the knock on the door had. 

I became very frightened and ran away from the door. I ran back down the cavern hallway, up the steps, through the unused room, and all the way to the kitchen where I stayed with a cup of brandy coffee until I felt more like myself.

That night while I tried to sleep, I could hear the the quiet sound of the laughter that came behind the door. It echoed very quietly around my bedroom. I heard the soft humming all the next day. I could not escape it. In the late afternoon, I went back to the unused room, but the stairway was gone.

For one week I tried to live my normal life, while the sound of the humming followed me everywhere. I could hardly sleep. All I could think about was that heavy wooden door and what might be behind it.

Early on the next Sunday morning. I went again to the unused room. This time, the stairs were there across the room. I was frightened, but I felt extremely compelled to go back to look at the heavy wooden door. I descended the staircase. White plaster turned to brown stone. I followed the sound of quiet laughter down the cavernous hallway. I could hear the rattling of the doorknocker.

When I reached the door, and I stopped moving forward, all went suddenly silent. It was the sharp silence of anticipation. I knew I needed to open that door. I had never been more compelled to do anything in my entire life. I stared at it for a long time, trying to overcome my fear, trying fruitlessly to make myself turn around and leave.

I sprang at the door, opened the bolt, and pulled it heavily open. I stepped back a few steps and stared. Inside was an unnatural darkness. Pitch blackness was clinging to the inside of that room, and I could not see inside.
Another giggle. Out from the darkness stepped a very young boy, maybe four years old. He had unnaturally large, beautiful green eyes. He was carrying something in his arms covered by a large cloth.
He was the most intense looking person I had ever seen. Even though he walked slowly in a relaxed way, something about him reminded me of a predatory animal. The sound of laughter was still there, and I knew it came from him even though he didn't look like he was making a sound.

"Thank you." He said. "I have been in there a very long time."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"My name is Pocalypse. I'm very happy to meet you. And I am very happy to be out of the dark room."

I stood there, paralyzed with uncertainty and growing fear. Finally I asked "What are you holding?"
The laughter stopped.
He looked down at the cloth-covered bundle in his arms with a strange expression on his face.
"A long time ago," he said. "I was very angry about being in the dark room. I thought if I could not see, what use were my eyes?" He looked up at me with his enormous green eyes.
"So I gouged them out," he said.
"My sister, Hope, was in the dark room with me," he continued when I didn't respond. "And she had eyes that could still see in the blackness."

He dropped the bundle in his arms. The cloth fell off the body of a very young girl. Her face was terribly smashed in, and her eyes were missing.

I tried to turn around and I couldn't. I was frozen to where I stood. The laughter started again, and the little boy smiled.
"My name is Pocalypse. I am very happy to meet you. I will not be going back behind the wooden door."

Sleeptexting: Camel

It is amazing how my friends receive so many sleeptexts from me that they really just take it in stride these days. One of them receives a strange text from me in the middle of the night, and doesn't miss a beat. They are much less weirded out by these conversations than I am.

This happened at 2am last night. I don't remember this at all.

Me: A camel? Really?

Catheryne: Yes. A camel. Are you really so surprised?

Me: Well, when you said you were going to get me a pet, I was expecting a turtle or something.

Catheryne: But a camel is so much more practical than a turtle, don't you think? At least you can ride it.

Me: Under which circumstances, exactly, would I need to ride this camel? And where am I supposed to keep it? In the pantry?

Catheryne: Well, if you're ever in the desert, it would come in quite handy. Plus, having a camel as a pet is all the rage in Paris. You can always keep it in your bedroom. I hear they are quite cuddly.

Me: They are all the rage in Paris because they might come in handy...in the desert?

Catheryne: I don't try to understand the trends in Paris...it just seemed  like a popular pet.
Catheryne: Don't you like it? I thought you would. But I guess I was wrong. I suppose I could always return it...

Me: I'm just not sure what you're trying to tell me, giving me cuddly bedroom camels.

Catheryne: I just figured it would make a good companion for you.

Me: I suppose he's alright. I suppose it could have been worse. You might have decided that I needed a pantry bear. Or a bathtime shark friend.

Catheryne: What are you going to name him?



Who knows what that was all about. It seemed to be set in a modern setting, unlike the usual old fashioned eras my subconscious seems to gravitate towards.
I wasn't as mean as I usually am to Catheryne this time, although I don't think my subconscious can help but be a bit snarky.

Sleepwalking: The Most Frightening Way to Wake Up, Ever.

I just thought of another story. This one deserves its own post.


This happened when I was an undergraduate in Davis, California, -about four years ago. I lived in an apartment with my friend Laura. This apartment was where my sleepwalking activity really started to pick up.


One night I woke up in pitch blackness. My bedroom is never that dark, so I was confused. I tried to sit up, and hit my head on something hard. I fell back down into a laying position and tried to bring my hand up to my head, but my hand came in contact with whatever I had hit my head on. I felt with both hands, and found a layer of solid wood about a foot and a half above my face. Feeling around with my hands, and trying to kick out, I found that the wood stretched the length of my whole body. I realized that i was also laying on a wooden surface. I felt to the sides, and found hard wooden surfaces on both sides.
I was in a coffin.

I was very close to a panic attack. I felt frantically on all sides, finding only solid wood. I broke out in a sweat. It was pitch black, and I was in a coffin. I closed my eyes, and forced myself to calm down. It took several minutes.
I tried to think rationally. It was highly unlikely that I was in an actual coffin. When I had my panic under control, I felt around more carefully. The ceiling and the floor were very solid, so was one wall. But when I pushed hard at one of the sides, it gave a bit. I felt it very carefully, and found a crack in the corner. I forced my hand in, and pushed it sideways.

In the hallway of that apartment, between the two bedrooms, there was a large closet with a sliding wooden door. The shelves inside were big, about 6 feet across, and two feet high, maybe 2 feet deep. I had somehow climbed into the bottom shelf, and closed the heavy, wooden sliding door while I was asleep.

It was still night when I climbed out of the shelves, but I couldn't go back to bed for a while. I think I took a shower and then watched a Disney movie or something.

I don't recommend this to anyone. It is not a pleasant way to wake up.

How I broke my hand in my sleep, and other sleepwalking stories.

I just realized that I started this blog exactly one year ago today. Happy Anniversary! A lot of sleep activity has happened in one year. O_o I'm glad I have this blog, otherwise I wouldn't quite know how prevalent it is.

It occurred to me that there are a plethora of sleepwalking stories that occurred before I started this blog, and I haven't dipped into them much. Here are a few:

I broke my hand while I was sleeping in early 2010. I think I dreamed I was attacked. I sat up in bed suddenly and punched in front of me very hard. Oddly, I punched with my left hand, even though I'm right handed. My bed at that time was next to two windows, with a solid wooden frame between them. I punched the frame, and fractured my forth metacarpal. I remember clutching my hand in pain, and yelling. But then.. I somehow went back to sleep. I don't think I completely woke up when it happened.

When I woke up the next morning, my hand was swollen and bruised, and I was very confused. I went to the doctor, and had to explain what had happened, giving basically the same explanation I just gave, feeling stupid.

No one at school knew yet about my sleepwalking habits. This was how everyone found out. When I came in with my hand in a brace, I told them the truth when they asked.
Interestingly, my father broke his hand while he was sleeping as well. He dreamed he was in a fight, and punched his metal bedpost. He and I don't talk much, and I have never lived with him. It is strange for this to be what we have in common.



When I was little, I sleepwalked a lot, but not as often as I do now. (at least, as far as I know...)
One of my earliest memories of sleepwalking was when I was 6 or 7. My two sisters, my brother and I were staying at my father's house. I fell asleep on the couch while my siblings were outside playing just after nightfall.
They came inside and told me, "Time to go to bed, Lizzy."
Without waking up, I open my eyes and say, "ok."

I get up and walk in the opposite direction. They all stand there watching me as I walk over to the fishbowl, stick my hand in the water, and swirl it around.
"What are you doing?" they asked, staring at me. I didn't respond.
"Bed is this way, Lizzy." my sister said.
"Oh ok." I said calmly. I took my hand out of the fishbowl and walked with them down the hall. They were silient, looking at each other incredulously.
"What were you doing?" my brother asked me.
"What did it look like I was doing?" I asked, annoyed. "I was playing with the fish."
Then I closed the door and went to bed.

My family still tells this story a lot. Strangely, my sisters have not seen me sleepwalk a lot. So this story is still vivid as a good example of my sleepwalking to them, even though it was so long ago, and I've done much crazier things since.

Sleeptexting: Deserters

So after the last time I texted my professor, I took his number out of my phone. But this semester, I'm filling out a lot of audition forms and applications, and I'm having to write his contact information as a reference on a daily basis. I was getting really tired of having to look it up each time.
So, I put him back in my phone, under the name "D" I was hoping my subconscious wouldn't think to text him if it wasn't under a real name.

I was wrong. My subconscious wins. It cannot be fooled by me.

Here's what I wrote to him last night:

"There is a sea of soldiers heading towards us. We can stay and fight for this madman, or we can take our chances and run. I need to know that I can count on you."


He assured me today that I can count on him.
I give up! I'm going to leave him in my phone. If he gets texts from me, so be it. Hopefully by giving up, my subconscious will stop caring. Also, hopefully I wont say anything worse than what I've said already.

Dream: The Slave Market

I dreamed last night that my name was Sarah Francis, and the year was 1855.

I was a very wealthy plantation owner in the south. I think I lived in South Carolina or Georgia. I was already from an old wealthy family, and marrying my husband and moving to his plantation made us one of the wealthiest families in the state. My husband died only four years after we got married, leaving me a 23 year old widow.
For several years I was courted by men of all kinds from all over the south. One young man even came from as far as New York to pay a call to my house. After a few years, however, it became clear that I had no intention of re-marrying. My disdainful treatment of these gentleman callers became notorious, and I was known as a mean spinster by the time I was 26.

I was a slave owner. My plantation was vast, and needed many many workers to maintain it. I had a small staff of hired white workers running the household, but I owned as many as 30 slaves at any given time.

I was somewhat of a hermit. I was known to collect books from all over the world -a strange thing for a woman to do. Other than the booksellers, and the slave traders, I rarely spoke to anyone. Rumors started to spread about me through the nearby towns. Rumors of disappearing slaves, of scandals that took place in my household, of bodies appearing in the nearby river. I became an urban legend, and people maintained their frightened distance.

In the nearby city, a slave market was held once per month. I never missed a market. It was well known that I went home with 5-10 slaves from every market. I was a favored customer of slave traders, but even they had heard the rumors.
I went through slaves. Even though I took 5-10 home with me, I generally did not have more than 30 at a time. Rumors grew more gruesome about what happened to my slaves. Some say I killed them for fun. Some spoke about frightening sexual scandals. Some said I was a witch who sacrificed humans to the devil, using their body parts in gruesome concoctions.


One sunday, I had made my way all the way to Charleston to attend the slave market. I hardly spoke to anyone, but everyone knew who I was, and they maintained a curious, superstitious distance. A new shipment of slaves had arrived in Charleston a few days before. One group of slaves huddled together. There were 9 of them total, an older man, a young couple, and six kids ranging in age from infant to 12 years old. They were going to be split up. I told the slave trader that I wanted to inspect them. I looked them over, even holding the infant myself after it was taken from its mother.
It bought them all. Word of my purchase spread through the market, with fascinated speculation about what I would do with the children.

They were brought to my plantation. I ordered to meet them in my private sitting room, with my three usual strong guards keeping them together.
I closed the door and turned to the terrified family.
"I am so sorry. I am so sorry for what your family has been through. I am going to help you." I said to them. They stared at me.
My maid stepped forward and spoke to them in their language, translating what I had said. The adults eyes widened in surprise. The young woman turned to me and said "My children and I speak English."

I was relieved. This would make things easier. I told them the truth.
I had spread the terrible rumors about myself. I was an abolitionist, doing what little I could for individuals and families. The slaves who worked on my plantation, I explained to them, were paid workers. I attend every slave market, choose as many as I can without arising suspicion, and help them to find their way to a better life. Most stayed on my plantation for a while, doing a little work for a generous wage, while planning where they can go to be free, and a way of getting there. I helped them as best as I could. I was in contact with the underground railroad. I took a yearly trip to new york, bringing as many as I could to "sell" them to potential buyers, while really setting them up with as much as I could give them.
Many have decided to stay with me permanently. It wasn't a bad life on my plantation, and better than the risk of trying to make a life up north.

I explained to the family that if anyone found out what I was really doing, I would be stopped. But having them think I was a brutal murderer kept them from stopping me. Such was our society.

Sleeptexting: Sunken Ship

This was a weird one.

Me: I do not see how we can get in there. I can swim down that far but we would have to break a window to get inside.

Lexi:Then we have to break a window --we don't have another choice.

Me: Well, we can choose to walk away. But then we will never find out what's in there. And if an official finds out that this ship wrecked here, it will be salvaged and all that money wasted on the government.

Lexi: We can't walk away without trying. Think of how we might use that money!

Me:Besides, that's quicksand under there. It might be that no one else finds it before it sinks.

Lexi: Buy are you sure you can reach the window before it starts to sink?

Me: I can reach it fine. But the problem will be breaking it. I can use the old iron canon as a battering ram. But I don't know if it will have enough force underwater.

Lexi You should be able to move it easier underwater, but if it's stuck in that quicksand, we could really be in trouble. Are there any canon balls left? That might be too good to be true.

Me:Of course not. You know how old it is and you can't shoot a canon underwater anyway. It will be easier to move underwater but the force behind the impact will be greatly lessened. It will be like trying to break a window with a wet sponge.

Lexi: I meant to hit the window with... That damned trigger probably couldn't fire under the very best conditions. I can't believe there aren't any rocks around here. Do you see any?


I have no idea what that was all about. I think there's a bit of a miscommunication between us, because it only kind of makes sense.
I read a short story last week about a sunken ship. I haven't thought about it since, but obviously my subconscious was thinking about it. It may be the first time that a sleeptexting session has been a pretty direct reference to something in my life.

Sleep...falling.

Next to my bed is a small table. Sitting on it is my old desktop. The keyboard is separate, and huge, and gets in the way a lot. It was sticking out rather far towards my bed last night while I was sleeping.


At some point during the night, I fell out of bed dramatically. I hit my FACE on the keyboard, knocking it off the table and onto my head. I have a cut on my face where I hit it!

Ow!

Sleepwalking: Force shield

In the middle of the night last night, I sat up and turned to the window next to my bed. As far as I can remember, I tried to put my hand through it. It probably woke me up partially, because I remember my hand vaguely hurting and saying "..some sort of force shield."

Then, as usual, I looked around in a confused manner for a while as I slowly rose towards consciousness.

When I woke up this morning my window was wide open. I must have opened it after the force shield incident.

Dream: Weddings Gone Wrong

I don't think about weddings a lot. I don't often think about myself getting married. But for some reason, I had nothing but wedding dreams last night. I had maybe ten weddings. And they were all disasters.

I got stood up at the alter.
I found my finance kissing another woman in the dressing room right before the ceremony.
I was getting married to a girl, and only realized that I wasn't gay while I was walking down the isle.
Someone told me at the reception that my new husband was, unbeknownst to me, my cousin.
I got splashed by a car on the way to the chapel, a wave of mud and water going over me in my wedding dress.


There was one highlight. My sister was at one of these weddings, and she had given each of the guests a handful of purple rocks. The guests were to throw them in the air at the opportune moment, after nightfall. They threw them all at once. It created rainbows in the air, and started raining popcorn. It was kind of awesome.
One guest was confused and put the rocks in her mouth, thinking it was candy. I saw her do it, and immediately went over to her and smacked her across the face to get her to spit it out. She got most of the rocks out of her mouth, but she was still spitting rainbows for hours.

Sleeptexting: Catacombs

First time sleeptexting with my friend Sarah. I don't remember this at all.

Me: I don't know what's gotten into you. We're going to get caught. We'll be thrown out forever!

Sarah: No, we wont!! I don't know why you get so nervous..

Me: We are not supposed to go in the Trial Catacombs until our eighth or ninth year! It's too dangerous.

Sarah: Catacombs, Shmatacombs!! And besides, danger is my middle name.

Me: Your middle name gets me in trouble a lot. Who knows what kind of evil things live in here. I heard the Catacombs themselves are living and can see into your mind.

Sarah: I heard about gremlins and goblins but not the Catacombs being alive. I think we'll be fine though, I have my wand!

Me: You're an idiot. This is too serious for you to be joking around. The whole point of this place is to confront you with your weaknesses. you might notice that it's not called the Fun Catacombs, or the Cozy Catacombs.

Sarah: What weaknesses could they possibly confront me with? I don't believe in this whole -the Catacombs live business anyway.

Me: Did you hear that? Was that a lion roaring in the distance? It came from over there.

Sarah: No, I think it must just be some echos...from something...wait, are you afraid of frightening, ferocious felines?

Me: I knew you would be the death of me someday. Well, at least we are here together. Let's try not to die, ok?

Sarah: We are NOT going to die. We can conquer anything together, so get rid of that negative attitude.


Way to be bold, Sarah! haha
Honestly, I probably wouldn't mind paying a visit to the Cozy Catacombs.

Dreams: Nightmares of the Almost normal variety

I think my subconscious is expressing the stress I feel in my waking life right now. I've been having a lot of very dream-like dreams. The kinds of dreams everyone has -in which you are yourself, with themes taken from your recent daily life. That's rather unusual for me.


I dreamed my teacher, Mr. Simmons, was teaching us the Korean language. "Don't you know? Most of your repertoire is in Korean, Lizzy. You have to be fluent. I can't believe you haven't' figured this out by now."


I dreamed that I was cast as the lead in the opera at school. Two days before rehearsal started, I broke my leg. I asked my director, very casually: "So, what would you say if I suddenly...I don't know, broke a limb or something."
He said, very seriously: "Your role would be taken from you, and you would be expelled from this institute, of course."
So, I went to the doctor and got myself a walking cast. I wore very baggy pants over the cast and tried to hide the fact that my leg was broken. I was in a lot of pain, walking around in rehearsals, but I tried my hardest not to limp and give myself away.


Last night I dreamed that I was sent to a mental institution in Germany. It was somewhere in the Black Forest. Everyone spoke only German, and I could not understand what they were saying. I was a high security patient, but I did not know why I was there.
It turned out that I was indeed insane. I only thought I was an American girl, and that I didn't speak German. The truth was that I was a German girl, and that I only thought I couldn't speak German, when really I could.



You don't need to be a first year psych student to be able to analyze these dreams. They're pretty clear, and not very fun to dream.

Dream: Placeholder Wife

I was not a character in this dream. I watched it in 3rd person, like a film.

I dreamed about a man of great wealth in the nineteenth century who took a pretty young woman as his wife. He was kind to her, and always treated her well. She came to live with him on his vast and beautiful estates and was given almost everything she could want. There were many servants working on the estate: kitchen staff, gardening staff, housekeeping staff. They were very loyal to the wealthy man. Though they were always kind to the young woman, they always made sure to maintain a professional distance despite her attempts to become closer to them.

Something was amiss. She sometimes caught her husband looking strangely at her when he thought she wasn't looking. The servants sometimes exchanged glances behind her back.
When she was brought to live in the estate, she was told not to go in a certain wing of the main house, by the back garden. The wealthy man told her that it had been his father's study. He wanted to keep it untouched in memoriam.
Packages were delivered to the estate every week. She never could never seem to find out their contents, even though she tried questioning the servants.

Her husband, over time, started to grow distant from her.

One day she decided to break into the forbidden rooms. She discovered a beautiful sun-filled bedroom and joining chambers. The walls were freshly painted white, and the furniture was painted with flowers. There were two armoirs filled with a woman's expensive wardrobe. Above the bed hung a portrait of a pretty young woman she had never seen before.

Her husband discovers her there several hours later, sitting on the bed, crying in confusion. At first he is angry and leaves for several minutes. But the wealthy man had always had an even temper and a reasonable nature, and he returned to the sun-filled room and told his young wife the truth.

He had always been gifted with the power to glimpse the future. He could not control it. It simply flashed, unbidden, before his eyes every once in a while. It was unclear how, but his staff of servants were in on this power. They were unnaturally devoted to the wealthy man, and had seen his future as well. They knew that the wealthy man would marry a woman named Emily, who was his one true love.

They also knew that the wealthy man would only meet Emily through the untimely but natural death of his first wife. He must marry this young girl. She would die. Then his real wife would appear.

His young wife listens patiently, crying silently throughout her wealthy husband's explanation. He told her now that she knew the truth, she had two options. She may leave and disgrace herself in divorce and return to her previous life of poverty. Or she may stay, living a comfortable life, knowing of her immanent death, knowing that she is paving the way for Emily's arrival.

Sleep Habit

One thing that comes up a lot in my dreams/ sleep activities is smoking.

I have never smoked a cigarette in my life. I never did as a teenager, and it's an impossibility now that I'm a singer. No one in my immediate family smokes around me. None of my close friends smoke. I've never even felt a real desire to try it.

But, I smoke a lot in my dreams. Especially lucid dreams. As soon as I realize I am dreaming, my first thoughts are often "Oh! I'm dreaming. Thank god. Where are my cigarettes?" I will suddenly have always had cigarettes and a lighter in my pocket and I get to smoke. I love how it feels in my dream. It's like taking a breath of extremely thick fresh air. It feels amazing in my lungs. O_o

A rather weird thing that I've done a few times in the past couple years is miming the process of smoking while sleeping. A few times now, I have sat up, patted my 'pockets', and mimed the whole process of smoking, with nothing actually in my hand. I bring out my 'cigarettes', my 'lighter', I hit the pack against my hand, I pull one out. I light up. I smoke. People have seen me do this. I remember doing it, vaguely, (except in my memory, I'm really holding a cigarette.)


I have no idea what this means. It's a strange theme to have reoccurring like this. It probably has something to do with supressed desires or some nonsense like that. But why smoking if I have no desire for it?

Lost dreams

The problem with being too busy to update the dreams that I have, is that I forget them. It's no wonder I can't remember most of the dreams I had before I started this blog, even though I was having many vivid and detailed dreams every night. Dreams just don't stick in your mind unless you pay attention to them specifically. It's as if they were created in your subconscious, and there is only a small window of opportunity to advance them to your conscious mind before they are lost in the subconscious forever.

One dream concept I remember from a few nights ago. I was crying feathers. I was crying about something very important, (of course, I forget why now,) and small black feathers were coming out of my tear ducts. They were about an inch long, and I had to pull them out with my fingers. It was a very much a texture dream. It wasn't creepy while I was dreaming it, but it is a bit now as I look back on it.

Sleeptexting: Virtues

I sent two sleeptexts last night. I was thinking that I hadn't sleeptexted since I read that article because it validated it too much, and now my subconscious didn't feel the urge anymore. I guess not.

I sent this to Lexi at about 1am:

"You are only allowed ten government issue virtues. I wouldn't waste my time with mercy."

Later that night I sent this to Alicia:

"And you? Which ones have you chosen?"

It's kind of a creepy concept.
Neither of them responded. They were both asleep. Well, all three of us were, really.

Proof!

I'm not crazy! Psychologists are no longer saying that sleep texting is impossible!

Take a look:

WEWS News: Texting while sleeping is new phenomenon

I'm not alone! I'm not crazy! Hooray!

Of course, the subject matter of most of my sleeptexts is still very...odd. I'm looking forward to hearing about more studies done on this subject. Perhaps I'll keep my ears open for some sleep studies done in my area.

It made me laugh when it says you can prevent sleeptexting by keeping your phone away from you when you sleep. I think because I'm also a super-functioning Sleepwalker/sleep-phone-go-getter, that doesn't work for me.

Dream: Horrors of Endearment

I have had a recurring dream since I was very young. It used to make me cry when I was a child. I'm almost used to it now. I wake up in a cold sweat, then get over it and go back to sleep.

In the dream, I am always standing on a very small platform, with just barely enough room to stand. It is like a land tower, something you'd see in a canyon. The best example I can find is something like this:
There is just one of them though, and it is very straight, and very skinny.

It's the only place to stand in an underground cavern full of lava. Not far from me, there is a large metal cage suspended from the ceiling of the cavern. Inside the cage are my loved ones -my friends and family.

I am put in this situation by a demon, who always asks me questions. Questions about myself, my family, music, history, geography, science. Every time I answer a question incorrectly, the cage lowers a few feet. I never see the demon; I can only hear his voice.
Sometimes the demon is just feeling particularly malicious, and lowers the cage even when I answer a question correctly. It is completely at his discretion, and for his entertainment.

The dream always ends the same way, no matter how well I answer questions. The cage finally reaches the lava, and my loved ones die, screaming. Then I wake up. I never wake up before they die. I always experience that part.

This might be my longest running recurring dream. I can remember having this dream as young as four years old.
My only defense against this dream is to make light of it. And I noticed that who is in the cage varies from one occurrence to the next. My mom is almost always in there, so are my sisters. But which friends end up in there always changes.
So I've begun to think of it as a term of endearment. If you were in my lava cage, that means you're one of my loved ones.

So a conversation with my friend who knows about this dream might go like this:
me: "Alisha, you were in my lava cage last night."
Alisha: "I love you too, Lizzy."

Dream: Kidnapper's Tag

This dream took place on my undergrad campus, UC Davis. I actually dreamed this before when I was a student there, and I had forgotten about it until the rerun dream last night.

In this dream Kidnapper's Tag is a game that my friends and I invented. There were 20 people playing, split into two teams of 10. Basically the point of the game is for the team that is "it" to kidnap someone from the other team. You are safe when you are in your own apartment, or in a classroom, but nowhere else. You are allowed to gang up on people, even ambushing someone of the other team using all 10 of your teammates.

When someone is kidnapped, they are taken back to the designated kidnapping area, which was the garage of a non-participating friend of ours. All 20 players had keys to the garage. The kidnapped person would be left tied up, (usually with duct tape). The kidnappers had to leave them one of two means of escape:
1. a knife with which they can cut themselves free, or
2. Their phone within reach.
If they have their phone, they can dial one of their teammates for help. (This was the more popular option. It was a good idea to have all your teammates on speed-dial.)


Once the kidnapped person frees themselves, they have to send a mass text to all 20 players that they were kidnapped, and therefore their team is now "it."


Gameplay was fun, but frightening. You had to be in stealth mode all the time, keeping an eye out for the other team. Sometimes you missed classes because you were kidnapped as you tried to get to school. If you were not 'it,' and you saw members of the other team, RUN! Get in your apartment, or a classroom asap. Especially if you are a smaller person, and you see someone who can physically overpower you. You are allowed to struggle/fight back when people are trying to kidnap you, as long as no one is actually hurt. This is why it's a good idea to gang up on the victims.


In my dream, they ambushed me. Sometimes you got calls from teammates who had been kidnapped, and you have to go untie them. Sometimes those teammates are gagged, so when you get a gagged-sounding person calling you on the phone, it's easy to assume what happened. The other team used this idea to their advantage. They got lucky and found the phone of one of my teammates. They used it to call me, talking with a gag in their mouth to make me think my teammate was calling for a rescue. They got me when I was almost all the way to the garage. Five of them jumped out of a van and snatched me off the street.
Tricky bastards!

Sleeptexting: Toll

I texted Alisha in my sleep two nights ago. She did not see the message until it was too late. This is what I said:

"Think you could lend me five copper pieces for the drawbridge toll? You know I'm good for it."


I don't remember anything about this. Wonder where it would have gone if she had responded. Copper pieces sounds like a currency in a fantasy novel. Drawbridge toll sounds Medievalish. Who knows.

Sleeptexting: Gods on Holiday

There was a big thunderstorm last night. I think that's what prompted this sleeptexting session. I did not even notice these messages until about 3pm today.


Me: Oh great. What did you do now? He's obviously furious about something. He'll never believe I didn't do anything this time.

Nathan: It couldn't be helped! Something had to be done. I will take the blame, he will certainly listen to me.

Me: You haven't been talking to any of the little gods, have you?

Nathan: Oh, no! No no no, I'd never do something so foolish. Cross my heart!

Me: You better not. You know they'd tell him where we are. He probably just realized that we're gone. Throwing lightning around. He's so dramatic.

Nathan: It's a bit ridiculous, true, but no one would listen to him otherwise. None of the others say it, for fear of their hides, but they don't take him half as seriously as they used to.

Me: Hahaha! I dare you to say that to him! I dare you! Not yet though. I don't want to be found and forced home yet. You promised we'd stay gone for as long as possible. He has probably already sent some runners, if not gods, after us.

Nathan: Oh we will, you can be certain. Much as I'd love to ruffle his feathers with more truth than he's accustomed, I'm not too great a fool to know there will be a time and place for it.

Me: And I'm sure his threat of stripping you of your divinity has nothing to do with it. Hahaha! It's not as if he would. You're his thirteenth born. And just because I'm the fifteenth born doesn't mean I'm not entitled to a little fun down here! It's so boring up there!

Nathan: Right you are! I rather enjoy my freedom. "Cutting loose" as they say down here. No stuffed shirts telling me what to do just because they had the fortune to be born earlier or some other such nonsense.

Me: Humanely said! Hahaha! The thunder is getting louder. Let's go before some angry war god shows up. Let's go talk to people. How do I look? Convincing? Look at my boots! They are actually made from mortal animal skin! Yuck!

Nathan: I think we blend in well enough, though I share your distaste of the...questionable...things mortals choose to clothe themselves in.



Crazy. I have no memory of this conversation at all. No dream to go along with it.

Dream: fox

I dreamed that my mother had a pet fox. It was adorable. She was going on and on about how smart it was. I thought it was a hyperbole, considering how common it is for pet owners to exaggerate about their beloved pets.

That is, until the fox friended me on facebook.

His most recent status updates were all about this reoccurring dream he was having about a coyote-man that was after him. He had been really bothered by these dreams lately, and was thinking about doing some dream research.

Sleeptalking: Short and Sweet

Oh also, at some point last night I sat up and said:

"Mouse........Mouse? .....okay."

Dream: Lucidity Duel

I had so many dreams last night!
One dream I remember very clearly. I was standing suddenly in a Whole Foods grocery store. I was holding a jar of pasta sauce, and I was barefoot. I looked around in confusion. I don't remember coming here, I thought.
"Closing time! Please make your last purchases!" I heard over the loudspeaker.

As I made my way to the front, I tried to work it out. I'm barefoot, I thought. That's strange, right? I don't need any pasta sauce. I'll just put this back. And...wait a minute! I don't shop at Whole Foods! It's too expensive!
I'm dreaming! Thank goodness I figured that out!

I put the pasta sauce back on the shelf, just to be polite, and headed towards the door. I was the last customer in the store. There were three cashiers behind the counter. "Goodnight! Have a good one." they called at me with friendly smiles.

"Goodnight," I said. "Sorry about this whole dream thing."

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, you know," I said. "Sorry about how you only exist within the context of this dream."

Their friendly smiles faded. "What do you mean?" They asked.

"Well," I said, starting to get a little uncomfortable. "I'm dreaming, you see. And that means that you guys are just dream characters. I'm sure you wont notice a thing when the dream is over."

"Stay where you are." One of them said. They came out from behind the counters. "You mean to tell us that we are not living in reality, and that we do not exist outside your dreaming mind?"

"Something like that, yeah." I didn't like where this was going.

The cashier who had spoken turned to the other two. "Then, she must not wake up." The other two nodded. All three started walking towards me.

"Stay away from me!" I yelled. I tried the door, but it was locked. "I'm the dreamer here, not you. You can't control the dream."
I pointed at the door. "This door is open!" I shouted. And it was. I ran through it, but rather than escaping into the parking lot, I was back in the store. This time it was completely empty. No shelves, no food. Just a large empty room. I looked around and saw that the three cashiers had followed me.

"You are not the only lucid one here anymore." One of them said. "It's a shame you're being tied down with dreamer-proof ropes."

"What?" I looked down. There were glowing silver cords snaking their way up my body. One grabbed my wrist and forced my arm behind me. While I still had one arm free, I pointed at the ropes and at the cashiers.
"It's a good thing I have dreamer-proof rope cutters!" And I did. They were large silver scissors. I started to cut the ropes that were holding me tighter by the moment.

"Oh well, yes those are a nice model of dreamer-proof rope cutters you have there. They look so much like the real ones. But I'm afraid you'll find those are made of rubber." And they were. They sagged in my hands. The glowing silver ropes grabbed my other hand and forced it behind my back as well. I fell to my knees.

I was desperate. "It's a good thing I'm not the dreamer, then! Otherwise I'd be in real trouble. You are obviously the dreamer in this situation."
The ropes hesitated in their climb. I felt them loosen slightly. One rope end made its uncertain way over to the cashiers.

The cashiers smiled. One stepped forward and said. "That would be dangerous for us, indeed. Oh look! Is that a dreamer-seeking cloth? I haven't seen one of those in ages. I've heard those things always know a dreamer when they smell one. They also act as lie-preventives, or so I've been told."

Before I could make any more changes, a piece of glowing silver cloth wrapped itself tightly around my mouth.

Sitting on my knees, with my hands behind my back, the silver ropes tied me tightly to the ground.

The cashiers came closer, smiling. "You may be a dreamer," one said. "But we are made of dreams. Now, we are safe."

Before they left, they put signs all around me for a mile in every direction. The signs said:

Beware: Dreamer
Do not Approach

Sleeptexting: Backwards Invites

Small sleeptexting episode last night. I texted Alisha, whom I miss a great deal after leaving california. I texted her at 2:00am. She responded, but it was 45 minutes later. I was unresponsive by that time. I don't remember anything about this.


Me: Yzzil? What kind of stupid name is that? Who is she?

Me: Never mind, I don't care. Just decline her invitation. It sounds a little too paradoxical for my tastes.


Alisha: Are you certain? It could be a fun party nonetheless.

Alisha: Yzzil is a rather odd name. Perhaps she is a bit backwards after all.


Yzzil is, of course, backwards for Lizzy. I don't know if I would want to go to a party thrown by my backwards self, so maybe I made the right call.

Return from California

My sleep activity has apparently been almost on hold while I was on vacation. Maybe it was due to sleeping in strange beds for a month. Whatever it was, there is little to report.

Sleeptalking reports:

Once I sat up in the middle of the night and shouted "Chicken!" As usual, I have no idea if this followed more ramblings, or if this was the only word spoken.

Apparently one night I sighed in my sleep. Alisha was still awake, reading. I then said: "Oh no. I forgot to tip that guy. ...oh well."

There was one night of a long conversation between Alisha and I, she being awake, and I asleep. I have no memory of it, but she told me in depth about it the next morning. I want to get her to write about it instead of me. More on that later, hopefully.


Sleep texts:

I sent only one sleeptext over the entire month. I sent this to Catheryne:

"What is in the box?"
Catheryne, however, was phoneless in Italy at the time, and could not respond.


Dreams:

I have had many many dreams over the last month, of course. None so epic as to require me to write them the next morning.
I recall a dream about a boarding school I was attending. A factory was built next door that made certain prescription drugs. The faculty started to require that all students take these new "vitimins," as they called them. Only I realized that they were mind altering narcotics. I broke into the factory and trashed the main offices, and tried as well as I could to halt production. Patrick Stewart was the factory president. In my distructive process, I uncovered a genie-type being. She forced everyone to tell uncomfortable truths to each other. She forced Patrick Stewart to reveal to me that he was my father.
Strange dream. Would have been more eloquent if I could remember the rest. But that was the gist.


Now I'm back home. We shall see if my sleep activities return, or remain on sabbatical.

Offerings

Still on vacation. No big episodes of sleepwalking, and my phone always seems to be lost right before bed, which is probably for the best.

One thing I did last night: I woke up in Alisha's house, sitting up in bed. Sitting on my right palm was a box of tissues. Sitting on my left palm was a book. I was holding them out in front of me like an offering.

Also, I dreamed that I was flying around in the countryside (peter-pan style), and spotted an apple farm. I was hungry so I swept down and stole some apples and flew away eating them. I looked back to see the farmer standing next to the apple tree. He was very tall, almost 7 feet. He wore an outfit that was somewhere between farmer and turn-of-the-century gentleman. He was staring at me with an extreme intensity. I saw him grab an apple and hold it out in front of him. With his other hand he poured a liquid over it from a blue glass bottle. I looked down and the apple I was eating was becoming saturated with liquid.
That's odd, I thought. But I took a bite anyway.
I immediately started to shrink. As I became smaller and smaller, I was losing altitude. The wind resistance was all wrong, and I couldn't stay in the air. I crash landed. I was about seven inches tall.
I made my long and dangerous way back to the farm, almost getting eaten by a coyote in the process. It turned out that the farmer was also a voodoo priest. He told me that I could work off my debt by working on his farm in my currant state for one year. Then he would restore me to my true size.

California Dreamin

I'm off adventuring in my home state of California right now, with limited computer time. The posts might slow down a bit.

One thing I did say in my sleep last night: I turned to my friend Alisha, sleeping beside me, and said "You're here too??"
Which makes me happy. It's like, not only am I home, but my best friend is with me!

Two Little Dreams

I dreamed a lot about mind control last night. I dreamed I lived with this woman I thought was like a mother figure to me, and I was like her servant. Then every once in a while I realized that I shouldn't be there, that I had been hypnotized all that time. I would try to escape, but she'd come after me. Reality would shift all around me because she held so much control over my mind.
It was a trippy dream.


I also dreamed that I had been diagnosed with "Lawyers Disease." What that means is that several times throughout the day, I experienced almost complete amnesia for 10 minutes at a time. It was very dangerous. What if I was driving my car, or talking to someone important, or walking down a busy street?
It was called Lawyers Disease because Lawyers were the original people to contract the disease when it first surfaced a century ago. It was believed that it came from sharks originally, and Lawyers back then made attache cases out of shark skin.
There seems to be a common theme in my dreams linking Lawyers with sharks.

Sleeptalking: BBC

Apparently, in my sleep last night I turned on the radio next to my bed. I listened to the BBC news for who knows how long. I remember that they were talking about facebook and statistics of how much time Americans spend on it.

What I do remember is waking up saying "Bloody Yanks," while turning off the radio.

Then, right before I regained full consciousness, I said, "Hey!" as if I was offended.

Sleepwritings: Diamonds and Peter

I was full to the brim with dreams last night. It felt like I had about 15 different dreams.
A while back I started putting an open notebook and a pen next to my bed. The main purpose was so that if I had a complicated dream, I could jot down some details so I would remember in the morning. I rarely remember to do that, but it has had the effect that sometimes I'll write in my sleep.

I woke up this morning to find that I had written two different things. Here's the first page:

"Diamond farming -new technique.
Must catch when they spin off of tornadoes.
I go around the country teaching people how to do it.
Don't call me mother.
Nothing wrong with hard, dangerous work -especially when the rewards are high."

I have no memory of writing this, but I do have a clear memory of a dream that I had about this. I was a specialist. I was the first to notice that tornadoes were flinging off pearl-sized diamonds, that when left untreated, would melt. I developed a technique that involved standing very near a tornado, wearing weighted steel armor, and catching the diamonds with a refined catchers mitt. Then you had to immediately treat them in some kind of chemical solution. (I can't remember the details of what was in it.)
I did travel around the country, (mostly the midwest), teaching people the catching technique. I also had my own radio program about the tornado diamond market. I'd say things like "Don't bother with the diamonds from Nebraskan tornadoes from the past week. The clarity is too poor."
About the "don't call me mother part," -All I remember is that I was an middle aged lady in this dream, and I had miscarried many times. I was very sensitive about it, and rather gruff of personality. I think someone called me mother in the dream, and I got really cold with them.
For this sleep writing, I was probably slightly awake. But I was too sleepy to remember doing it.



Of this next thing that I wrote, I have absolutely no recollection. I think I was fully asleep for this one.

"Peter?
Which Peter?
Vicious cycle of Peters."

I have no idea what that means.

Sleeptexting: The Witchdoctor's Advice

I was awake for a while before I noticed these texts with Lexi on my phone. It's the first time I've ever sleeptexted Lexi, but of course, she knows about sleeptexting, and was happy to play along.



Me: You are being absolutely ridiculous. I refuse to talk to you until you take the alligator out of your mouth.

Lexi: It's not my fault it's stuck to my tongue!

Me: I warned you. I don't care what the witchdoctor said. There are easier ways of seeing into the future.

Lexi: How can you blame me for my curiosity? This is hardly a time for "I told you so's."

Me: Well, what do you suggest I do about it? This isn't exactly my area of expertise.

Lexi: Is there some kind of food we could give it? FOOD THAT ISN'T MY FACE!"

Me: Calm down. I can't even understand what you're saying. Remember the witchdoctor said somethings about how your two heartbeats have to be the same for it to lose interest and leave you alone.

Lexi: How is that supposed to help? Alright, maybe we can raise the alligator's heartbeat...I don't know... Maybe you should tickle it?

Me: Look, I know we have known each other for many, many years. You're like a sister to me. But I'm not going to tickle an alligator. Not even for you.

Lexi: Well, what else do you suggest we do?? Ugh, didn't that worthless witchdoctor have anything useful to say?



I wonder how that situation turned out. I don't remember anything about the context. I didn't even know I had sleeptexted at all. When I woke up, my phone was across the room in the place I left it when I went to bed.

Sleeptalking: "?..."

I woke up violently in the middle of the night. I was in the middle of saying something forcefully. I only caught the last two words of what I said, which were:

"...SARCASM TREBUCHET!"

I wonder what the rest of that sentence could have been?

Sleeptexting: Temple Servant

It has been awhile since I last texted in my sleep. I thought it was on hiatus. Apparently, it's back. At least for now.

At around 1:30am or so, I texted my friend Jake:

"Excuse me. You look like a servant of this temple. Is that right?"

He did not respond quickly enough. 15 minutes later I said:

"I see. As dumb of speech as you are of looks. I will ask someone else."

He eventually responded with: "Indeed I am a servant. Have you found what you were in pursuit of?" But it was too late. I did not respond.

Sorry Jake!

Sleepwalking: Sleep Fu

I don't think I've ever posted in the middle of the night, directly after an incident. But my computer was already sitting open, and my head hurts where I hit it...
So I thought, why not? I'm not falling back asleep any time soon, I might as well post about it now.

I woke up suddenly, and I was standing in the middle of the room. That happens a lot, and usually I just stumble for a moment while I get my bearings, and then go back to bed. But this time, I was standing in horse stance.
If you don't know what horse stance is, it basically looks like this.

When I woke up, I was startled, and in such a strange position that I toppled over backwards and hit my head on my bookshelf.


Whereas it might be fun to think I'm secretly practicing kung fu in my sleep, I somehow doubt it. Especially considering how gracelessly I fell over.

Ow.

Dream: Water, earth, fire, air, and.....?

This is just a category 1 dream. But it made me laugh all morning, so I had to share it.
If you have never seen the cartoon Avatar: the last airbender, this wont make much sense to you.

I dreamed I was born of the fire nation. I was from a family of very powerful fire benders, but I was disgraced because I was not a bender. I grew up without any bending power at all.

Then one day I discovered that I did have power. I was doing the laundry and I discovered that I could move the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer without touching it.
I was a laundry bender.

I tried bending regular cloth, but it wouldn't work. I could only bend laundry. (I'm not sure where the line would be drawn between regular clothes and laundry. Maybe it only includes large groups of dirty or wet clothes.)


This is what I get from spending my day off yesterday doing laundry and watching avatar for most of the day. Don't judge me.

Dream: Advanced Magic Studies

I dreamed I went to a boarding school that taught all the regular subjects for the first half of the day, and then split the students into specialized training the second half of the day. Specifically gifted students studied magic, others studied tactics if they had a propensity for military leadership. There was also advanced culinary arts, botany, library science etc. Within the magic specialty were certain specializations as well. You could specialize in magical engineering, (in this universe there was no such thing as electricity, but everything was powered by a specific type of magic.) It depended on your magical gift what you studied.

When I first got to the boarding school, I was already weary of my fellow students. My life up to that point had taught me not to let anyone get too close. My first few days confirmed it. I had always had an erratic magical gift. The second day of school, I had a bad dream and created a tornado in my sleeping dormitory. The other students and their beds were flung against the walls until I woke up. After that night, I was put into a single room. It had stone walls, and the window was so thick you could hardly see through it.
The next day at the midday meal, word had gotten around about what happened. A group of older kids decided to push me around a little. They pushed my face into a bowl of soup, and threw my papers all around the room while the other students laughed. I hardly reacted. I knew I couldn't trust anyone here. The biggest of the bullies tried to grab my arm, and was electrocuted. He spent a day in a coma. No one touched me again.

Four years later, I was still at the school. I had filled my days with every regular class they would let me take to avoid having free time. Free time either led to trouble, or led to me sitting alone in my stone room. But whereas the regular classes were lecture based, and I could sit there unmolested, the specialized classes were practical sessions. I had never finished even one term of a specialized course. Something always happened. I lost my temper and blew up the greenhouse, I fried the circuits of the electric magic class, I made the millions of books in the library levitate off their shelves at the same time, causing a massive panic among the library science students.
My magic power was immense. Not even I knew how far it extended. It was hard to control sometimes, and it would feel like power was simply coursing through me, causing things to happen that I did not intend.

None of the magic classes welcomed me back. I was banned from the library, and the greenhouses. I started a private study, which was difficult without the library, and still led to trouble when people tried to talk to me.

There was one class I hadn't taken. I wasn't sure if it existed. It was called Advanced Magic Studies, and no one could give me any more information about it.

I was sitting by myself under a tree one day when two bullies, the friends of the electrocuted bully, decided to get even. They had been studying all the magics for four years. They felt very advanced, and when they saw me sitting alone, they wanted to show me what they could do.
I watched them approach. I knew what they wanted. As they got within twenty feet, and were starting to build up their magic charges to throw, I gestured them away from me.
They were flung, fast, up onto the roof of the school one hundred yards away.

I smirked, my hand still in the air. Suddenly my hand stiffened and smacked me hard across the face. I couldn't stop it.
"What the f-" I started to shout angrily. It smacked me again, so hard that I fell off of the bench I was sitting on.
Then my hand reached into my bag and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. I couldn't do anything as I watched it begin to write.

"You are cordially invited to attend my class, Advanced Magic Studies, or more fondly known as 'the class that will teach anyone who has at least two brain cells to rub together.' As you can imagine, it is a very small group of students.
At 1:00, mentally ask for permission to enter the classroom. "

I suddenly had control of my hand again. It felt oddly tingly.
I looked at my watch. It was 1:00. Feeling stupid I thought the words: "...can I enter the classroom?"
An echoing voice answered me in my mind: "May I enter the classroom, PLEASE!"
I scowled. A bolt of electricity jumped from one hand the the other. I took a deep breath to calm down. "May I enter the classroom. ...please." I thought.

I was suddenly no longer under a tree. I was sitting on the floor of a giant room. At the far end were tables and chairs, but the rest of the room was bare except for the many strange things hanging on the walls.

"Welcome!" I heard a voice say. I turned and saw a man I had seen before around the school. (In this dream, he looked like Billy Connolly, and even had his accent.) With him were six other students, all male. They looked at me with hostility.
"What is she doing here?" One of the larger guys complained. "She's a freak."

The instructor looked amused. "Why don't you go tell her how you feel, then."
The student looked surprised. He started towards me. So did the other five students.
I didn't know what was going on. I gestured at them, and five of them were flung backwards all the way across the room, and crashed into the table.
The other student kept coming towards me. I was extremely angry. I had been invited here. How dare they turn on me so soon. It usually took a few classes before I was thrown out for doing something destructive.

I could feel angry heat building up inside of me. The other student stopped a few feet away.
"I've been wanting to try this. I'm going to make you beg me to stop. You have no idea who you're messing with now." he didn't bother keeping his voice down. The instructor was grinning with excited anticipation behind him.

The student took a step towards me. I blew a gentle puff of air at him. He caught fire.
He flailed around the room, screaming. The instructor stepped forward with his hands held out. He was laughing uproariously. He forced his hands together, and the fire snuffed out. The student was not harmed, but he lay there panting wildly. The other students had made their way across the room. They were looking at me incredulously. The instructor continued to laugh long and hard. When he could speak again, he wiped his eyes and said, "Welcome to my class!"

Every day I mentally asked permission to enter the classroom, and spent half the day with that crazy instructor and the grudgingly accepting other students. I couldn't tell where the classroom was. We spent some of the time outside, but the building we were in was in the middle of a vast field surrounded by trees. There were mountains in the distance I did not recognize.

Some of the classes were dedicated to combat skills. We learned to harness our magic against each other. I was amazed by the instructors ability to contain whatever magic got loose from me.

In one lesson, I showed up and I was the only student there. He told me the others were minding other specialized tasks. The floor of the large room was covered in coins, which were laid out in circles radiating out from the center. He told me to sit in the center of all the coins. He sat directly in front of me.

He didn't say anything for a while, so I used the time to calm myself. Whatever he had in mind would take concentration, no doubt, and I was glad the other students were not there to anger me.

"Lift them," he said. "All of them."

It took me a second to realize he was talking about the coins. I looked around.
"But there must be tens of thousands of them!" I said.

He looked at me in that blunt, unblinking way he had. "You lifted every single library book off of its shelf. There are over two million books in that library. You lifted books that were not in the same room as you."

"But that was an accident. I didn't mean to do that." I protested.

The instructor closed his eyes again. "Lift the coins. All of them" he said again.

I tried. I concentrated on the first few circles surrounding me. I wasn't used to this kind of focus. I usually just gestured things away from me quickly. I had a hard time holding them in the air. I managed to lift maybe a thousand coins that day. I thought the lesson would be over, but every day I returned after that, the coins were waiting until I could lift all of them. Then he made me move them in circles while they were in the air. Then every other circle of coins had to move in opposite directions. It took three months before I was able to do these tasks.


That's all I remember about this dream for the most part. There was one class where he brought what looked like a corpse to the large training room. He stared at it for a few minutes, before it suddenly got up and attacked us. We had to combine magic to fight this zombie. The instructor told us that he had not animated the corpse, and that it actually wasn't a corpse at all. It was a species of ghouls that lived in certain areas of the world, and were exceptionally hard to get rid of. Like cockroaches, but humanoid and very dangerous.

We also had a lesson where we learned a certain type of magic that would allow us to have a 100% accurate photographic memory for 24 hours. He said this was only to be used in an emergency because if used too often, it can cause brain hemorrhages.

Sleepwalking: Driving Conditions

I'm still at my mother's house. Next to the little guest bed I'm sleeping in is a night stand with a lamp that looks a bit like this. Just behind the table is a big window with the shades drawn.
Last night I sat up, and sat on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor, facing the table and the window. I grabbed hold of the handles of the lamp.

I don't know how long I was sitting like that, or if I said anything else. All I remember is becoming frustrated and saying:
"Dammit! How do they expect me to drive this thing? I can't see anything!"
So I 'parked' whatever it was I was driving, and reached over and drew up the blinds of the window.

I only remember this much because I half woke up after opening the blinds. I was confused. I think I even said out loud "What am I doing?" Then went back to sleep. The blinds were up this morning, which prompted my memory.

What was I driving? The house?

Sleeptalking: Too Early

My mother woke me up rather early this morning. Apparently when she tried to wake me up, I pulled the sheet over my head and called her "licentious."
She snickered and said "What?" Which made me wake up.

There is one other instance of my subconscious using the word licentious. When it happened the first time, I had to look it up the next morning.
See Post.

I guess my sleeping mind likes that word. I never use it otherwise.

Small Dreams

I'm visiting my mom in New Orleans right now. I always seem to dream less when I'm here. Category 1 dreams only lately.

For example, I dreamed last night that I was wandering around in darkness wondering where everyone went. Some random stranger passed by in a hurry and I asked him.
"What, didn't you hear?" He said. "No dreams right now."
"Why not?" I asked.
"What do I know, I'm just an extra. They don't tell me nuthin."
And he hurried away.

In another dream, I was just sitting in the living room with my mom and sister, when I suddenly realized that I forgot to pay rent.
"Shit! I forgot to send in the rent check!"
My sister said "Well, don't forget. You'll have to do it when you wake up. But sometimes stuff like this is hard to remember between dreams and waking."
"You're right," I said. I turned to my mom. "Will you remind me when I wake up?"
She paused and said, "I can try. But I don't think that's how it works."
When I woke up I did remember, but I also remembered that I sent in the rent last week.


Maybe it's the heat. My brain gets lazy in 99 degree weather, just like the rest of me.

Why I shouldn't sleep on public transportation

I was on a plane yesterday, headed to New Orleans to visit my mom.
I was only resting my eyes.... I wasn't sleeping....
At least, I didn't know I was sleeping. For obvious reasons, I try not to fall asleep on public transportation -especially planes, where security is high.

Apparently I turned to the Australian girl in the seat next to me and said:
"Yes, most assuredly!"
I don't remember saying this. The conversation that followed was rather confusing and went something like this:

Her: "What?"
Me (waking up): "What?"
Her: "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Me: "I'm sorry, what?"
Her: "You just said something to me."
Me: "I did?"
Her: "Yeah. You said: 'Yes, most assuredly!'"
Me: "I did? ...I'm sorry."
Her: "Sorry? For what?"
Me: "I said that in my sleep. I'm awake now though. Sorry."
Her: "Oh! ...oh, ok."



Awkward.
At least what I said was very innocent. Imagine the trouble I could get into on a plane. Imagine if I didn't wake up, and continued talking.
No more sleeping on public transportation.

Dream: The Slavery Option

In this dream I was a middle eastern looking man. No particular country or time period, that I can remember.
I was heavy set, but powerful looking. I was the head of a deeply rooted, powerful illegal business operation that exported weapons and dangerous chemicals between countries. I was a very wealthy man, and a dangerous man to cross. I had connections everywhere, and been indirectly responsible for more than one political assassination.

I had two daughters, Shaia and Nasreen. They were both heart-breakingly beautiful, five years apart in age. Their mother had been killed a long time ago, soon after the birth of little Shaia. I loved them both, but I could bear to look at them only every few days, because they reminded me so much of their mother.

When Nasreen, the eldest was fifteen, I sold her to a group of extremists in exchange for Nuclear weapons. It was an important trade, one that would made me the richest of all underground weapons traders. Nasreen was forced into sexual slavery.

There were two kinds of pleasure slaves. The higher class slaves who were basically well treated, and the lower slaves -for whom anything goes. The lower slaves were blinded with hot coals, and were known by the purple blindfolds that they wore. I made sure my daughter was of the higher caste. She was well fed, beautifully clothed, she lived in luxurious places, she was never given drugs, and was only rarely treated with any kind of violence.

My second daughter, Shaia , was now coming of age, and was proving to be even more beautiful than her sister. I vowed that I would keep her in my household, and not sell her.
The extremest to whom I had given Nasreen, came back to me and demanded that I give them Shaia as a second payment for the weapons. They threatened to blind and demote Nasreen if they could not have both of them. I did not give them a response for several weeks -I was too furious to think rationally. I came home one day to a clear threat: a purple blindfold nailed to my front door.

That night, I stood over my sleeping daughter, trying to decide her fate. Shaia was only thirteen years old. I could not bear the idea of my Nasreen blinded into lower slavery. But my beautiful little Shaia was the last reminder I had of my beloved wife.

I woke up before I made my decision. I was really rather disturbed by this dream. Just the fact that I was a oily, middle aged man was bad enough. And then selling my children into sexual slavery and being fine with that decision?? My subconscious worries me sometimes.

Sleeptexting: Happiness

I sleeptexted my Professor again. x_x


Here is what I said to him:

"There are twenty-four types of happiness, just pick one already! Personally, my favorite is the purple kind."


I don't know what that means, and it would have made me laugh more if I had sent it to a friend, instead of my grad professor.
I sent him an email apologizing, and remarking on how rediculous the situation was, and how I never expected to have to apologize to a professor for something like this.
He wrote back saying there is no need to apologize, and that he finds the whole thing fascinating. It still is rather worrisome for me though. Everything I've sleeptexted to him has been fairly innocent so far, but what if I say something less innocent someday?

He wished me all twenty-four types of happiness this summer vacation. How sweet of him.

Dream: The Blue Goddess II

Wow. I did indeed dream about the blue goddess again. To be honest, I wasn't expecting to. My dreams are only rarely recurring, or related to each other.


In this dream, I returned to that place of pitch blackness. I was surprised, thinking, basically what I wrote above. Thoughts like: "Where am I? Oh I'm dreaming again. Wow, two dreams in a row about this place, that doesn't happen often."
The goddess came to me again, blue and shining as before. She held out her hand and said one word: "Come."

I placed my hand in hers, and suddenly I was no longer in that place of blackness. I was standing in an open air marketplace. It looked like a marketplace in India. I was startled at this sudden change of location (something that probably wouldn't bother me in a normal dream. This dream was much more realistic in how it felt, and my reactions.)

The goddess was no longer standing beside me. I looked around, but she was nowhere to be found. So without any other options, I decided to explore a bit. The colors of this marketplace were amazingly vivid. There were tents everywhere, lining the street I was on and branching off into many little alleyways. The stalls sold some things that I recognized, like dates and nuts and many fresh, colorful vegetables. Most of the tents on this street, however, sold spices. The spices were on display in beautifully carved boxes, or colorful cloth-lined barrels. There were thousands of different spices, and the air was extremely fragrant with the mixture of them all. There was hardly a dull color anywhere. The tents, the clothing of the merchants and the shoppers, the spices themselves, all vivid.

It was very warm. Temperature is also not something I usually take note of in dreams. I can't remember ever sweating in a dream before. No one at the marketplace seemed to notice me, but as I walked around, they would step to one side, making room without looking.

Only once did I bump into someone. I started to apologize, but when I looked up, I saw that it was Merlin.
Quick note about Merlin: This is a man who has appeared in my dreams every once in a while, since I was a very young child. He almost never participates in the dream, I just see him on the fringes, watching. He has always seemed to be a seporate part, as if he is just an observer. I have been able to talk to him only a few times. His name is not Merlin, but I started calling him that when I was little, because he has a bushy beard, and he seems magical to me. I told him that once, and he was very amused, so the name stuck. I'll talk more about Merlin another time, but what's important right now is that on the rare occasions that Merlin talks to me, he usually tells me to prepare myself for an important destiny, or some such dramatic thing like that. He told me once that all my ancestors have lived so that I might be born, because I have an important job to do in my lifetime. No pressure, right?
But I'm always happy to see Merlin anyway. He's like a father figure, or even a spirit guide in my dreams.

So when I bumped into Merlin, he smiled warmly at me. It was almost a mischievous smile.
He said, "I told you so." and walked away before I could speak.

After wandering around in the marketplace for what seemed like hours, I saw the blue goddess again. She was leaning against a table inside the spice tent I was looking at. I hadn't seen her arrive -it was like she had always been there, and I only just noticed her.
She said, "Time to go." She reached out and touched me on the hand.

Then I woke up. At least, I dreamed that I woke up. It was exactly like my bedroom, and I was myself. I quickly sat up, and what looked like blue/purple dust billowed off of me. I shook out my hair and more dust flew off. It looked like sapphire powder.
Then I noticed the fragrance in my room. I could still smell the spices. I sat in bed in awe for a few minutes, as the smell of spices slowly began to fade.


I dreamed I fell back asleep. The goddess was waiting for me in the place of blackness, smiling. We had a long conversation, only part of which I remember. I asked her what the blue dust was. She told me that until I learned to do what she was trying to teach me, she had to use to blue powder. She told me that it was a conductive material, to bridge the gap between worlds.

Dream: The Blue Goddess

Last night, I was visited by a goddess in a dream. She had beautiful blue skin. I'm calling her a goddess, but she was beautiful in an androgynous way. She looked like the more feminine pictures of Krishna.
This was a short, lucid dream. I was standing in pitch darkness, thinking:
"Where am I? The last thing I remember is going to bed. This must be a dream." I called out a few times, but no one answered. I tried to wake up, but I couldn't. I tried to change my surroundings, because I can usually do that in a lucid dream, but I couldn't. All I could do was wait.

Then I saw a small blue light in the distance, coming closer. I waited as the Goddess walked slowly towards me, glowing with a faint sapphire light.
"Lizzy," she said in a deep, warm voice. "Prepare yourself for tomorrow night's dream."
Then she leaned over, and placed her mouth on mine. She breathed very gently, pushing air into my mouth.
I woke up gasping.



So... I guess we will have to wait to see what I dream tomorrow night. My subconscious is weird. If I do dream something tomorrow, it must already be in my mind, but I can't access it. I hope its not a nightmare.

Dreams: Recital Anxiety

I have a masters recital coming up. So of course I'm nervous about it, and it's leaking into my dreams.

Last night I dreamed that I was late to my recital. I was in my formal dress, trying to get ready as fast as I could. My roommate Anjin was my ride. As we were about to leave she said,
"No, let's not take the car. Let's take the Wonkavator! It'll be much faster."
(For those who don't know, the Wonkavator is from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. It was his elevator that could go in any direction.)

But as soon as we stepped into the Wonkavator, it started malfunctioning. It took off like a roller coaster, and carried us all over the world. At one point I was looking out the window as we flew over the Pyramids, shouting, "I don't have time for this! I'm late for my recital!"

When I finally arrived, 50 minutes late for my hour long recital, I got up on stage, opened my mouth, and passed out.
Anjin explained to the astonished audience, "Yeah, the Wonkavator can do that to ya."




In another dream, the audience for my recital was filled with all the teachers I've ever had, dating back from preschool.
My voice teacher came up to me backstage five minutes before I went on. She said, "There has been a very slight change in the plan. The dean has requested that you perform all of your songs in German. You're going to have to translate the other languages into German while you're up there. You should be fine. Good luck, sweet girl!" Then she pushed me out onto the stage.

I hate dreams like this. They're so dream-like. Everyone has these. They're ridiculous when you wake up, but at the time, they are utterly terrifying.

Two Dreams about the Human Condition

I dreamed that the human body did not actually need food to survive. Calories were an extraordinarily addictive drug that every human on earth was helplessly addicted to. The physical sensation of hunger and death by starvation were actually just symptoms of the withdrawal from this drug, which is too intense for most humans to live through.

The addiction begins in the womb, with the food consumption of the mother. If a person could be found who could survive the extreme withdrawal process, that person would no longer need to eat. A new race of people free from caloric addiction could be bred.




My other dream last night took place in the year 2341. Science has perfected a serum that, when injected intravenously, made the recipient immortal. They could still be killed, but they would no longer age, and would be immune to almost all disease.

The government decided that this serum could not be given to the general public because the population would grow exponentially. No one would die, but the birth rate would remain the same. This would probably lead to the end of the human race.

But it would be a shame to never use this serum. Imagine if they could have given this serum to Mozart, or Da Vinci. They could have gone on creating forever. We must preserve our geniuses, the government decided.

So immortality was given as a prize to those who earned it. It was like the Noble Prize, and they called it The Eternal Creation. It was given to those whom the Immortal Committee deemed the finest artists, and scientists etc.
It was a desperate and viciously competitive award. It led to much plagiarism, and murder.

Sleepwalking: Circles! D:

Minor sleepwalking event last night.

I sat up startled. I either thought or said out loud: "There are too many circles! Circles everywhere! I need some squares to balance it out."
I got out of bed with the full intention of going to get some squares. But wait! I thought. I need to wash my hands first.

In the middle of washing my hands, I woke up. Whenever this happens there is a moment of insanity where two things are true at the same time. It was the truth that I needed to go find some squares, and it was also the truth that that didn't make any sense. Finally the latter truth won out, and I realized I had been asleep.
I got back in bed, wondering what the hell "getting some squares" would have entailed.

This is a perfect example of a category 2 sleepwalking session. I probably wouldn't have remembered it at all if I hadn't woken up in the middle of it.

Little Big Dreams

I dreamed I was being attacked by El Niño. He was an assassin, sent to kill me. He had a theme song that played every time he was in the room. It sounded like a theme song to a cheesy 80s cop show.
"El Niño! He get's his man every time! Oh yeah! El Niñooooooooooo!!!"


I also dreamed I was sitting in bed petting my roommate's cat Musubi, looking out the window as it rained. It was a pleasant afternoon. Then Musubi turned to look up at me, and in a very deep man's voice (despite the fact that she's a girl cat,) she said:
"Your alarm is gonna go off soon. You're not gonna like it. I feel sorry for you."
Instead of being surprised that Musubi could talk, I looked at her slightly confused.
"What do you mean, Musubi? I didnt' set my alarm. I wasn't planning to take a nap."
"That doesn't matter," she said, "because you're asleep anyway."
I went from confused to slightly paniced that she might be right and I didn't even know that I was asleep. I went through a whole existential crisis about what it really means to be asleep, and how do we know if we are dreaming at any given time.

Then my alarm went off. Musubi was right, I didn't like it.

Sleep Texting: Watermelon

It's a busy time of sleeptexting!
This is ironic, because Anjin texted me in the middle of the night to talk about the sleeptexting I did the night before. I was of course, asleep.

Anjin: I just read your sleep text with Jake! That is so intense!

Me: Well sure. But what are you going to do with that watermelon?

Anjin: I was thinking about cutting it up and eating it. Did you have any other ideas?

Me: You know we're allergic.

Anjin: I have been dying for a good summer fruit! Look at it- it's so beautiful. Are we really going to let it go to waste?

Me: Maybe you have an affinity for anaphylactic shock. Personally I like breathing more than fruit.

Anjin: Ok. ok . You always did get your way. Now what will we eat for a snack? I'm hungry.



Meanwhile, Anjin texts Jake, to tell him that I'm sleeptexting. So I receive this text from Jake:


Jake: I have a seedles watermelon patch in my backyard. It is underneath the willow tree.

Me: Um, that's nice.





Me to Anjin: Who the hell is this guy?

Anjin: He's a friend of mine! Be nice! He just wants to hang out for the day. He's a little mentally slow. Don't judge him, ok?

Me: You two have fun. I think I'll go home.




Jake: Don't you know who I am?

Me: One of my sister's friends. She told me. Either that or just some strange guy who tells random people about his watermelon patch.

Jake: I am one of her friends. She told me to tell you that. We met a few weeks ago briefly.




Haha. How dare they ambush me in the middle of the night! No wonder I got snarky at them.
My tone is so different in this than it usually is. It seems to be set in modern times, rather than some fantasy past.
Also, I'm not actually allergic to watermelon. I don't know where that came from.

Sleeptexting: Sorceress in the Woods

Long sleeptexting conversation with Jake last night. No code this time. I guess it didn't take long for my subconscious to get used to the new format. It's almost creepy how adaptive it is.

Me: I get the feeling that you are lying to me. And yet I know that you are aware of how unwise that would be in your position.

Jake: Unwise? Perhaps. But how do I trust that you are speaking the truth to me? How do I know you are on my side?

Me: You don't. It's as simple as that. You came to my for my help, at your own risk. I owe you no favors. You had better tell me the real reason you need my kind of help.

Jake: I know your track record. The kind of help you give provides results. And I need results.

Me: If you have heard the stories of me, human, than you have discovered that I owe allegiance to no one. I am no common village witch, existing to solve your problems.

Jake: Indeed. I do not seek allegiance with you, but revenge on the village apothecary owner who poisoned my family. Forgive my inquiries about gaining your trust.

Me: Just a moment ago you said it was the King's physician who did the alleged "poisoning." You are brave to lie to me, but I am losing patience.

Jake: The King's physician was a lie. But it made the matter appear more dire. At any rate, my family is dead and I seek your help for gaining my revenge.

Me: I admire your courage. What makes you think, however, that I will even allow you to leave alive, now that you have seen the whereabouts of my home?

Jake: If you must take my life in the process, than so be it. At least I might be reunited with my loved ones. I traveled a great distance to find you here. The mysterious and dark woods frightened me, but I kept going. And here we are.

Me: How adorable. But I'm afraid I do not involve myself in such petty human affairs as revenge. If you'd like, I can make you a tonic that will lesson your grief.

Jake: Revenge is what I seek, but this is a matter of greater importance. Something that would perhaps make you more interested: the village apothecary owner is being guided by the powers of the Dark Host.

Me: How many times do I have to explain to you that I am autonomous? I care nothing for such things. Go find yourself a nice human witch. They'll do anything for a few coins. I shall not kill you, out of a newfound fondness. But do not trouble me again.

Jake: A human witch simply does not possess the powers needed to destroy this "man." I guess you do not either. I shall venture to the next town to see if Aegir will help me. He holds the power over the waters.


I'm not sure if I stopped responding at this point because my character had nothing else to say to Jake after saying "do not trouble me again," of if it was because Jake was making up a lot of details himself. He told me later he looked on the internet for good names, and Aegir is a norse god of the ocean. He's lucky I didn't call him a fool.
Although I did kinda threaten his life...that's new. O_o

I wonder what I was? A witch? A demon? A fairy-type being? Whatever else I might have been, I certainly wasn't very nice.