I am an alien, a warrior, a slave, a singer, an artist , a wife, and so much more, but beyond the many fantasy people I become; somewhere among them leys the real me. Inside my mind I define the principals of reality and dreaming. Sometimes I may be awake, other times I am dreaming but no one really knows the difference, not even me.
Chapter 1. Familiar.
I stood, my feet firmly planted in the ground and my sight fixed on the flying blundering fists targeting me. Blocking each one with precise movements, I move in for some pay back. With skills like mine this will be a synch. I swing under one fist, which was now heading into an empty void where my head use to be. Standing right behind my foe I made a quick strike to the back of his neck. He fell over, passing out into my arms. I awkwardly shoved him into the catching net then contacted the team. I clicked my boots together to aviate away near the spot my team would be settling at.
I’m cocky; I have caught someone very important to these people. My fellow pupils have jealousy written all over their faces and the teacher looks like he might explode. He begins to walk towards myself, watching yourself through your own eyes was an interesting experience. You can see how cocky, how sad, how stupid you look.
I waited, looking down at the sleeping boy’s face. The star’s, at a much closer view, look more frightening then memorizing and the planet’s feel like a sandy beach only slightly eerie. I examine what I was wearing to help me discover more about this dream. Something out of a dream of course, something a space fighter would wear. I admire my boots, they have so many odd flashing lights and buttons but yet in my dream I know what every single one is for. My team hovered above me, beckoning for me. I flew up to where they were hovering and held up the faceless boy in the net. The eyes of my team members, including my team captain’s, eyes amounted to about the size of a small apple when they saw this boy captured. I was victorious.
Cold air invades my lungs like a clear sharp stab. I squint at the bright scenery surrounding me. I am entrenched by bright white snow with an even brighter sun shining down. It is beautiful scenery but harsh weather. I quickly take note of my outfit, an average white snowsuit, maybe military, that would explain the many weapons on my suit. Sidetracked by my outfit I look up to see an explosion only ten pine trees down. The bright smoldering flames shoot up on a white surface. I don’t need telling twice; I pick myself up and break into a chilling run.
As I run, I breathe hard, my breath, a beautiful swirl of white fog every time I let my air escape. I have no idea where exactly I am headed; my dreams usually lead me wherever I need to be. I keep running at a steady pace searching around for someone or a path, anything. It’s difficult to focus when I can still here bombs exploding the ground, blistering the trees of their pine needles.
I stumble over something; I don’t fall but trip, regaining my balance I look behind to see if it was just some rock or log. This was no rock or log, this was a person, not exactly what I meant when I thought of someone to help me; this someone was passed out from injury. Great just what I need, a person to save while I’m running away from bombs in a not so sure direction. I pick the faceless man up and resume my running. It’s more of a jog then a run with the extra weight over my shoulders. I spot a small white fortress, like the snow, up ahead. I begin to jog towards it.
Almost everything but my legs feels numb by the time I reach the fortress. I lay the man down on the concrete floor, he is awake…how disturbing. I just stare at his stare. It’s difficult to stare at a nameless, faceless, blurred dream figure but I manage. However no matter how disfigured the person is, I still seem to find a few details. He has black hair, probably handsome, with that "military look"; and dressed in similar clothes to mine. Stuck in internal thought I finally realize he is, very bluntly, glaring at me. He looks extremely angry so I back away even though he has no chance of getting up with that injured leg. Something about his gaze…it scared me…not just the dream me, the real me. I am happy to leave anytime.
A mirror, I haven’t seen myself in a long time. That seemed to be the only real thing, the only true thing I could hang onto. Of course I might look different in a mask but I knew underneath was still my permanent mask. I am short, about 5’6" 130 lbs. With pale skin, freckles practically made up my skin on top of that, pale blonde, almost white hair, and dark brown eyes. Yes, I was just a bunch of random contrasting stuff thrown together. I sat down in front of the mirror, closed my eyes and focused. I’m not sure why, but I need to focus.
What dream was this? I couldn’t remember when last I had been to visit this dream.
I am pretty sure this is just the physical dream form of my thoughts. I continue to sit and meditate it feels good to relax, not to be running around or fighting.
My dreams were going extremely fast I’m usually at least half way through a dream before I disappear.
That boy, did he I see him more than once? Yes I did, could that mean? No…impossible.
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