Post of Obscene Length

I had a dream. A rare occurrence.
There was the usual gibberish at the start. My longer dreams generally start with flashes of nonsensical images before settling down into something concrete. In this case, something to do with kittens of various sizes climbing stairs made of tiny houses, with the one on top entering a space dungeon to collect shiny objects and shoot down a red and green spiny moon. I didn't dwell on that for too long.
Then there was me. And Danica. The setting changed rapidly from an ice rink to a children's theater to settle on a cinema. A few people miled around near the front. We sat together in an empty row. The film was something experimental: a series of sixteen shorts that flowed together. The first started. It was pale, yet rose-tinted. Danica laid her head on my shoulder and turned her face towards me. I stared into her eyes and put my arm around her. A beautiful moment.
The second. People were driving in cars and buses through a small canyon. I watched from above. I raised my rifle, aimed for one of the drivers, and fired. Chaos below. Vehicles were swerving and crashing, and people ran for their lives. I fired again and again. I couldn't see if I was hitting anything, but it was having an effect. I was at the bottom, amongst the people. Someone was shooting at us. I fired back and missed. I ran. The bridge was so close.
The third. Alone on a narrow suspension bridge. It is guarded by a rotund fish monster. It is a musical; monsters, frightened people, and unseen voices sing fear and destiny. Fat raptors appear at each end of the bridge, trapping me. The creep closer and closer. Then they leap past me and strike the fish monster. They devour it. I run, across the bridge, away, down. There's a stony path down to a beach. I've reached the ocean. I'm free. There's an orange pillar topped with a thick grey liquid. I touch it. A horrible wrenching and I'm drawn into it.
I wake up. Danica is talking to someone. She says that I began acting strange, going through the motions as though I was in the film. She is relieved to see I've come back, but she asks me to move away. She doesn't want to be near me if it happens again. She is very nice about it and though I am reluctant to leave her side, after a minute I do.
The fourth. I reform on a small bridge. There are orange pillars lining the side. People walk by. They seem not to notice me. The little pillars move things from one place to another. If you could use them to go anywhere, where would you go? I am wearing a trench coat. Something is wrong with my face.
The fifth. It is night. I have left the bridge and am walking down the cobbled street running alongside the river. There is no one in sight. A small, dark-skinned boy is sitting on the corner, where the river turns. He smiles at me. A flash and he is a grinning demon. I leap at him, crushing him to the ground. He is a boy again. I don't want to hurt him. He is a pale-faced robot reaching for me, and I tear at his face before he can hurt me. I have to kill him. He is a boy, hurt and barely conscious, and I hold him in my arms with tears streaming down my face whispering apologies. I feel unbearable guilt. He is a monster. I pound at him. Danica finds me. She runs at me and drags me off of him. I scream, crying uncontrollably. The boy does not move. They are squirming, hissing piles of entrails. I throw her down and crouch. The yells at the boy to run and he slithers off. She is Danica again. I dive and claw at her, cackling inhumanly, pushing her into the river, forcing her under the water. She thrashes and kicks and screams at me but I force her down again and again and she finally stops moving. I am me again and I stare at her as the water closes over her head and all I want to do is hold her in my arms again.
I wake.
(My interpretation: first, the desire to love and be loved. In this moment when I know this to be true, I am happy. When I disappear into the film it shows my mind's ability to draw me into things that it knows are not real, and are often more dangerous and frightening than reality. Being asked to move away shows my fear of being abandoned because of my disconnection from the popular reality. But when this happens, I just lose myself even more in the frightening dreams. Finally, the attack at the end is my ultimate fear: that some delusion will drive me to hurt someone. I don't want to do it and it doesn't even make sense, and on some level I know this but in the moment I can't stop myself. I feel unbearable remorse because I know what I've done and I can' t live with myself. When Danica arrives to stop me I kill her instead. This is to show that even if they save me, should I ever snap the ones I love will be the ones who are hurt the most. Beloved, I don't want to ever hurt you...)

"Well," said Prophet, "it's sure a good thing we got out of that one."
Lank blinked. He blinked again, slowly, and looked around. They were outside of the Citadel of Serpents. The door was still caved in, but the path home appeared to be danger-free. "How..." he stopped. Prophet was smiling. There was no point; he would never get an explanation out of him. Most likely there was no explanation, and this was one of those inexplicable things that just happened. "Yep," he finished lamely. Whisk, seeing that Prophet wasn't at all fazed by the development, simply shrugged and went along with it. Lank ran his eyes over her body. A little stuck up, he thought, and not the most brainy, but in a good light she looked pretty... hot.
Prophet saw Lank's gaze and took Whisk's arm. "We should be getting back." To Whisk, "There's a place up north I think you'd like. It's near the swamp but it's cozy and has a great view and it doesn't smell at all, I promise."
Whisk didn't answer. She was staring up at the sky, far beyond the Citadel. "Look at that," she whispered, her mouth slowly dropping open. The others looked.
Far above, illuminated in red light, was the edge of the Dream Jar. Great black shards that spun lazily through the sky, connected in places to one another by sinewy strands. "You can't see this from the Blue Mountain," gasped Lank.
"The Dream Jar is a sphere," Prophet explained calmly. "We think of our world as a sphere as well because it's easiest. Certainly it wraps around to the east and west, joining the far oceans, but it appears that the north and south are open and flat. You can probably see a similar view from the Northern Sea."
They stared for several minutes. Finally Whisk said, "We should go." They turned and headed for home.

"This is really stupid," muttered IMPACT as he trudged up the cold grey path. Rubble and debris were all around him. Ahead was the grim purple palace set into Grandfather's Mountain. "I don't see why I'm alone." The grumbling continued. All sounds faded as he approached. There was silence save for the wicked calling of scraggly birds overhead (probably Doom Vultures or something equally ominous). A menacing porticullis was set into the side of the mountain, no doubt leading through some dark and dangerous passage through the mountain up to the castle. IMPACT approached the narrow gate. It was made of soft stone with skulls set into the sides. "Okay, a ghost wall," he remarked. "That's okay. I'm not afraid of curses." He stretched out a hand. "Where does one get skulls around here anyway..." the hand passed through the barrier.
An invisible force picked up IMPACT and hurled him away from the gate. He landed roughly on a pile of stone. "Ow." He sat up. "Okay..."
There was a flash. A streak of blinding light rose from the top of the Blue Mountain and moved rapidly towards him. Skeleton appeared, clad in full battle armour, and struck the ghost wall with his war hammer. He vanished with a small popping noise. IMPACT stared in disbelief. "Okay..." he said. "That didn't happen."
The light at the top of the Blue Mountain went out. The sky went dark. A rippling blackness shot out of the sky and pierced the mountain's peak. Cracks formed. The earth began to split. "No, no, no," shouted IMPACT, terror rising in his voice, "this isn't happening! This isn't happening!" He ran, tripping and stumbling, away from the wall. The air became darker and darker. There was a rumbling and a great scream. Everything blew apart.
A tiny push as he breached a barrier. IMPACT tumbled to the ground, then looked up. There was no darkness. The Blue Mountain was whole. Skeleton's familiar light shone at the top. IMPACT looked back. The purple mountain still loomed, forbidding. He hastily composed himself. "Okay," he said aloud, "that really didn't happen. It's a Palace of Fear of some sorts. I should have guessed." He set off back to the shore to make a new plan. The sound of faint laughter echoed on the wind.