Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

I just had a dream I held a dying man in my arms.

It started, we were in an arcade. Many of my friends an I loved the games in this three story arcade. We often wondered why they’d closed the two basement levels – five stories of games would be great. The old guy who worked there, Bade, would often chase us away when we hung around the stairs. We’d never been nice to Bade, and he’d never been nice to us – At one point in the past, he’d shot me in the arm for trespassing.

We finally saw he was distracted, so we bolted down the stairs. We had stolen a key, too, so we could get through all the doors. We were all gamers, this was a game to us.

Bade was an old man, so we knew he couldn’t keep up with us, but he shouldn’t have taken this long to chase us out…

We kept looking around, there were curling rinks and bowling lanes down here. We looked in several lockers, and we found giant Monopoly pieces for the big Monopoly board.

It started to worry me that Bade hadn’t found us yet. I walked back to look, my friends shouted at me, “You wanna get shot again?!” but I kept going.

And I found him. He was lying on the ground next to the seats by the bowling lanes. He was moving only slightly.

I asked him if we was okay, and he said, “No . .. no, I can’t feel my left side.”

I straighten him out and put my jacket under his head to give him some support and make him more comfortable, and I notice his head is bloody.

I shouted at my friends and told them to get help, to bring me their coats and such. I held Bade’s head in my lap, and I was becoming covered in blood.

Most of the kids just stared, no one ran. A few gave me things to soak up the blood and apply pressure.

The other kids were happy that Bade was dying. They had finally won the game.

Bade said to me, weakly, and all other sounds seemed to die out, “Why are you helping me? After all I’ve done, I’ve even shot you.”

I replied, “This is a game I do not want to win,” and then I turned to my “friends” and shouted, “SOMEONE GOT GET HELP!”

I guess the distress in my voice finally convinced them of something—some were afraid of me, a couple ran. I turned back to Bade, and he was whispering things now, just mutterings.

I spoke to him, “I don’t want you to die, Bade. I don’t want my friends to have this hanging on their heads, that when a man died, they stood and laughed. I don’t want my friends that evil…”

A priest/healer came some time later to look him over, but it was beyond his control. Bade had had a stroke, and injured himself too greatly in the fall. Nothing could be done from the start, but I had tried anyway.

Bade was still in my arms then, he started muttering words in song. His eyes closed, his arms went limp at his side … and a small green orb flew from his chest and started glowing as it was sent off.

I reached for it, and my friends thought I was crazy for reaching at nothing.

Another dream.
For some reason, I was wandering around Stony Ridge Park, and there were haunted houses and such to tour. I had fun in them, yay.

Later, I walked into this place that looked a lot like a dig site, but at the front door was a bunch of people lifting weights. I followed the wall around. The floor looked like a black, rocky waste. At the far end of the room, I can see that it is/was a hangar for aircrafts. There’s a plane right outside these giant doors. Suddenly, there’s a rumbling – a plane is flying low overhead. It jostles something loose in the ceiling, and we wait for it to fall down the chute – it’s a silver toilet. I laugh and walk up the mound of black rock. I see something that interests me – someone’s using magic. Since this entire place seemed to be a training facility of some sort, I decided I wanted to learn to use lightning like I’d seen someone just do. Earlier, I had seen a man showing his apprentice how to fly. I walk up, and poo, it’s not a teacher – it’s a bank. I look inside their vault and see nothing but amethysts. Big, shiny amy’s. My birthstone. I look at the banker and inquire who they belong to. He states that he’s not allowed to tell, but he can take my name as a person who can be told once they’re claimed. I give him my name, and he almost faints. They’re mine, I put them in the bank hundreds of years ago, and no one was permitted to know they were mine until I claimed them. Whee! He gives me the key, and a bowl of shrimp pasta.

I’m hungry.

Originally done when I was still in high school, so the entry has been back-dated to a million years ago.

Freestyle roleplay means we all had superpowers. SHINY ICE POWERS ACTIVATE.

Next >

Okay, that dream was just disturbing.

There was this huge explosion at a nearby farm, and, for some reason, my dog was over there. We rushed to go get her. We drive around the emergency crew, around an old steam engine that’s decorating the farmyard, around some water mains that broke in the explosion, and finally to where the dog is and, what do we see? She’s just sleeping. I bundle her in the car (I’m holding teddy tails the entire time) and we look around the place.

It’s a farm from a previous dream. The leatherworks/blacksmith’s shop from that old dream had gone kablooie, the barn was now some hacker central, and the railway that passed in front had blown up as well.

Wha-booooooom!