Sometimes Dreams Feel Like More

Obviously I know the real connection all my dreams have. They are all manifests of my imagination. Really, this unusual feeling I've been getting lately can be easily explained away by this. It's just quite a strong feeling. It usually stronger the first moments just after waking up. I'm typing this before bed, so the prospect of this blog entry actually seems quite silly right now. The only reason I remembered to make this entry is because I journaled my most recent dream the moment I woke up.

What you're reading isn't the journal entry -- that's much shorter. Rather, this is my attempt to flesh out the story in detail from the nonsensical notes I hastily thumbed into my Google Keep Notes at 4AM.

The earliest moments in this dream were difficult to recall, even when I was trying to write it all down. I'm not sure how I got where I was, or why, but I remember helping two women cross a stream with a strong current. Maybe I was some kind of coyote or liberator. The context felt like I could have been helping North Koreans escape to China, or Central Americans cross into the United States. 

I was already standing on the other side and directing them to where the only large rock was hiding just beneath the surface of the water. Huddling each other, the women, who I think could have been mother and daughter, trusted my words and stepped onto the rock. It was a brief moment of relief while the rock was steady. When it shifted, the younger lady slipped into the rushing water. Her mother cried out to me for help.

What was I supposed to do from the other side of the river?

Dreams are strange, in that, sometimes you just know you can do certain things that wouldn't even cross your mind in the real world. So I moved the rock with my mind. If I could move it under the young woman and lift her out-

Stupid me, I just dropped the older woman in with the rock. Both of these women were pissed off. That was until, I reasoned that, if I could move the large rock with my mind, I would obviously be able to lift the women out of the water. So I did. I brought them the rest of the way across.

I really struggled trying to recall the segue into the next part of the dream, but I found myself taking a dutiful position. I was dressed like a rural police officer, but knew I wasn't really a police officer. For some reason, I felt like I was protecting the public because, for reasons unknown, the actual police weren't extant to do so.

I was standing at a post, from where I could see a bridge, which crossed a river (different river), just in front of a waterfall. I don't even remember seeing the top of the waterfall. The cliff face was more like an enormous brown rocky wall.

I distinctly remember seeing a baby blue pick-up truck about to cross the bridge. I remember the truck looked like it was from the 1970's and had white trim. Somehow, I knew the truck was carrying a payload of grappling hooks and that they were too heavy to make it across.

Not sure how I managed to get from my post to the truck (it's a dream, after all), but I was able to stop the truck. The driver was a blonde woman, maybe about thirty, wearing a flannel shirt. She seemed rural and rugged enough that I assumed she was local. I asked her if she knew what she was carrying. She said she was carrying a surplus of grappling hooks.

I revealed to her the extend of the payload in her truck and she was shocked. She knew what she was carrying, but she had no idea how much. She became furious, though not at me. I don't recall the name she was cursing, but she seemed to be having an epiphany about someone trying to murder her and make it look like an accident.

And then, another poorly timed transition... 

...but to a much weirder dream.

Now, I'm painting, only not with a brush. I'm dipping my fingers and knuckles into think pasty colors and using my bare hands to put them to canvas. Whatever I'm creating must be supernatural, because there are people standing around me, watching and gasping. 

I have an assistant. I remember he was a somewhat stocky guy, with a gentle face that kind of made him look naïve. However, I also remember that I knew him to be highly intelligent and resourceful. It seemed like he was more aware of my powers than I was. 

As it turned out, these powers apparently included prophecy. While, what I was painting reflected that I did have some skill, I wasn't the greatest artist. What people came to see me paint, however, was the future. It wasn't their individual futures. I wasn't a fortune teller. I was apparently painting things like major natural disasters, who would be at peace and war, our first contact with extra terrestrials. The predictions in my portfolio obviously must have been proven accurate or I wouldn't be drawing such crowds in this large gallery (Or was it a convention center?).

There was one terribly annoying draw back to this power. I couldn't see what I was painting. I wasn't blind. It was just that even if I deliberately took red and tried to paint a line across the canvas, all I could see on it was a greyish blur. It was as if my vision was being digitally censored from seeing my own artwork and, by extension, my own prophecies. I had to take other peoples' words for it when they told me what I painted. I also couldn't paint if I wasn't looking at the grey blurry canvas. I was in full control of my arms, just kind of making random gestures, but I couldn't see what I was creating.

I came into this part of my dream already equipped with the knowledge of a purpose. I did know that I have been doing this for years. I was also aware that, for these years, I was to find a particular witch before she found me. My personal prophecy didn't include what was supposed to happen once we fought, but I did know that I was to find her one day and confront her. I don't know why or what she did, but she was evil.

Keep in mind, when I say "witch", I'm not talking like the ones we have in the real world. I don't mean someone who might light a candle and say a spell for motivational self improvement. In this world, which may or may not be earth, only very few have actual magical powers. The one who I was supposed to find was the witch. Maybe there were others I didn't know about, but she was the I was supposed to confront. I just knew (felt?) that the stakes were high. 

You see, because of the nature of my power, which was related to major world events, I'd have to face a witch who likely had the power to destroy the world -- or a large part of it.

So, there I was, kind of enjoying all the attention. The oohs and ahhs surrounding me as I let my magic arms do all the work. I was in control of my arms, but hell if I knew what it was I was painting.

"Sir", my assistant calmly called me from just off to the side.

I had to stop for a moment to turn to him. He nodded toward a young, pleasantly smiling woman casually finding a spot to stand amidst the other spectators.

"Sir", he said, but with a bit of urgency. He gestured again, for me to look at the woman.

Like my assistant, she just had a face that looked pleasant and innocent. She may have perhaps been from whatever clan or continent my assistant was from. Despite this, I found myself squinting. The more I concentrated, the more I could see it.

Something wrong.

Something terribly wrong.

Of all days, why would it have to be now? The more I focused on the woman's face, the more I realized it wasn't her real face. She hadn't yet dropped her illusion, but I saw her. I suppose it was another power I had.

Sunken eyes with dark circles around them and white irises. A wicked smile with sharp teeth. Her hair was a pale yellow with streaks of black. I'm a fan of the macabre and freaky, so had this been any other person with the same face, I'd probably give them a compliment. However, this was the real deal.

"I know it's you.", I told her.

The gallery hall went silent for a moment. Some people began to murmur to each other and began slipping out of the hall.

She reeled back in surprise that her disguise was so useless. It was as if I offended her.

Then, her form quickly changed, though not an illusion. I could tell this was a real shift because it sent the rest of the crowd into hysteria.

Before me, I saw the same sharp teeth and white eyes, but now in the form of a true beast.

I love puppies, but this dog was no puppy. The witch was now a large, ghastly hairless, canine looking creature, with a long tail  mindlessly thrashing behind her, destroying priceless exhibits and tokens of history. She seemed to be stalling while she glared at me. I stalled too, for lack of knowing the details on how I was actually supposed to do this confrontation thing.

My assistant ran off, though, I trusted him enough that I knew he had a plan.

The witch's neck slowly began to grow. I could sense that she was charging a magical power for an attack that I didn't want the displeasure of discovering.

With my left hand colorfully spotted in paint, I curled my fingers half way and focused my magic to my knuckles. I lunged forward and stuck my hand into her neck. My hand actually disappeared into her neck, but there was no blood. This shrunk her neck back down half way.

I couldn't let her cast whatever it was she was trying. Where was my assistant, though?

As I swiveled my head about to look for him, it broke my concentration and her neck began to grow again. I thrust forth both hands and her head was snapped back toward her body.

She lunged toward me. Her head meeting my chest with a blow so powerful it sent me sliding on my back across the floor.

"Sir!" was perhaps the only thing my assistant knew how to say in my language?

I looked up- er, behind me to see him standing in a doorway, holding up my magic white lab coat I sometimes used as a smock. He was too afraid to come into the gallery, but he motioned for me to follow him through the doorway and into the hallway.

The witch began screaming some nasty things that I don't remember now. I just recall that it was the usual big bad kind of stuff villains do, "Now is the time to meet your fatal destiny" and such. 

I got to my feet, which she really didn't like. She shifted her canine face back to her face, which I really didn't like. She opened her gaping and growing mouth to reveal the rows of teeth, rot, and black slime and charged toward me.

I tried to slow her with a barrier spell, but I could only get my arms extended part way before she hit it. This slowed her down. She was running at full force but moving half the speed towards me. Even as I ran backwards to keep the half-assed barrier up, I began to smell her hot breath. This is not the olfactory experience I wanted to shuffle off this mortal coil with.

Thankfully, before I expected, I was already in the hallway, and ran backwards right into wearing my lab coat. The embrace from my assistant was kind of comfy too, but I had to tell him to run for his life.

The witch grew larger as she burst through the barrier and down the hallway towards me. Her mouth gaping wide. I suddenly caught the rush of power from my lab coat and was ready to take this prophecy on. I felt the familiar chill and goosebumps of the magic coursing through my arms just before it shot forth from my palms. It was at that moment-

I woke up. I fucking woke up.

Nothing woke me up, either. It was about a quarter to four in the morning. My brain was racing with thoughts and feelings. I had this feeling before. Some of it is frustration at not seeing the fight through, but most of it was just a feeling of familiarity.

This is the feeling I was talking about in the beginning. Despite all my rational thought, I can't help but feel this possibility that a lot of the times, when I dream, I literally actually project to another world into someone else's body. It's as if I have a duty to fulfill in each one of them, and because I've led my host to their preferred destiny, I'm ripped out of the story just as it gets interesting.

If you're familiar with the TV show, Quantum Leap, it kind of feels like that, only I don't have Sam, and the places I go are otherworldly. I suppose that's what dreams are. In fact, I'm very aware that's all dreams are. But I still have this feeling I can't shake. 

This isn't the first time I woke with this feeling. I've had it before. I was doing something that mattered. I was doing something real. This wasn't just in the imagination of my subconscious. Or maybe I'm seeing the beginning of another mental disability. Medically speaking, I am prone to develop dementia later in life. Either way, I kind of want more of it. I feel like I haven't been able to change this world much for the better, but if I'm changing many other worlds for the better, how awesome would that be? Alas, the only realistic explanation is that it's all in my head. That's the most frustrating part of it all.

What if I really am traversing dimensions and worlds with different physical laws? It's an interesting concept, even if it's absurd. What if I'm not the only one? What if we all do, but only a few of us get this feeling and begin to realize what's "really" going on?