Thread: Mzzkc's Mind Games

Have fun, mate.

Spoiler for dream:

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

10.08.2010

The Way The World Ends (Non-lucid)

★★★★★

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

"Good morning, Colonies! Boy, do we have a show for you today!" The announcer's voice blares over my ear-piece, as I walk through Karachi, heading to my assigned 'interview.' "We're joined today by an esteemed Physics Professor and doctorate who is conferencing in all the way from. . ." He pauses. The view cuts to the broadcaster as he quickly flips through numerous files on his holographic display. "It's Cambridge, right?" he asks, more quietly.

Another man with a thick accent begins to reply, "No, actually--"

But the announcer has already found the file in question. "Oh, that's right! Texas MIT! Before we get to that segment, however, we have another installment of our bonus lecture series!"

That's my cue, I better hurry up the stairs and find this woman.

"Today's class is presided over by one of our very own Sociological Ethics and Law Lecturers."

There she is. I greet her quickly and take out my small audio and visual recording device.

"Please feel free to join the lecture remotely, and don't forget to ask questions!"

We were live. The professor briefly introduces herself as we make our way through the dark, rundown building. My camera work is surprisingly smooth, but I seem to be having trouble keeping her in the center of the frame and following her movements. Eventually, we make it into a decent sized room and the real lecture begins.

She starts by explaining basic concepts that anyone viewing should already know. Yet still, she has the gall to ask if there are any questions. "Hold on," I say as I reach for my com device. Sure enough, there's a solid red light, indicating someone is trying to interact with the class. Or just messing with her.

Hitting the talk button, I wait for the person on the other end to say something. . . Silence. I hit the button again, "No questions," I state. She smiles, blissfully unaware that she's already lost everyone's respect.

______________

The lecture continued as I faded in and out of alertness. At one point, she began discussing law making theory. An analogy was on the board, relating the foundation of any structured law to pipework, which one builds onto over time. But what happens when the pipes get old and outdated. I think. Shouldn't they be replaced by something that can keep up with the times?

I bring the point to the Professor's attention, and she addresses it by referencing several countries whose base 'pipework' was designed to gradually be replaced to accommodate ever changing needs. Stupid. In today's day and world it'd be better to scrap the whole damn thing and start fresh. These antiquated pipes just aren't cutting it anymore. I don't press the point any further; it'd just waste time.

______________

The classroom is brighter now, and there are students here besides myself. Professor Whatserface is angrily going over some definitions. I briefly stare at the board to memorize what's on it. Simple stuff. I just wish the kids in here would stop screwing around.

Glancing around the lecture hall, I spot a friend behind me, two tiers up. Standing up from her seat, straightened arms supporting her thin boy-ish frame, I see Samael leaning over the desk of the boy beside her, who himself looks a lot like Lucidmax. She seems vastly interested in whatever is written on the papers in front of him. I turn back toward the board, and contemplate pulling out a pair of display glasses, linking into my own feed, and putting my head down. Nah, more trouble than it's worth.

Regardless, our seeming lack of attention had finally struck a crucial nerve in our Prof. She hands out tests to everyone in the room, including myself, ranting about how she expected better from us and insisting she didn't want to give us exams, but we had forced her hand.

"Look lady," commented a rather brash young man one tier above Samael, "we all know how excited you were to finally get a shot at teaching savants." His voice played off the sarcastic intonation perfectly. "Yeah, we learned everything you taught us. And, yes, this test is bullshit. But you keep in mind this whole thing is nothing more than a bonus class for us. Free time. So, don't you be surprised when most of these papers come back with 'The Great Leopold Wiggin' written at the top." The class snickers audibly. He's completely right, and the raw truth of it all brings a smirk to my face. I'm quick to hide it.

Well, I might as well work on this test.

Question 1: What are the definitions of "soul" and "biology" as discussed in class.

Crap. These were just on the board. But, for some reason, my recall is hazy, blurry, almost dream-like. It's as if what was written on the board never existed. I keep struggling, fighting through my memories like one would against the ocean's current. . . Nothing. Maybe if I work through it, BS here and there.

Soul: A spiritual essence that some believe

Samael gets my attention, only, it's not Samael anymore. She's still my friend, the same girl from before, but her hair is longer, more teal, and her figure is very pronounced. The girl begins talking to me, and I know what she's doing instantly. Brilliant. She's dropping me clues to the answer while making it look like nothing more than chit-chat. So eloquently, too. There will be no way anyone can accuse her of cheating. Though the Professor caught on right away, echoing the last thing the girl had said in a mocking tone. She's just upset because she knows there's nothing she can do about it. Just then, I remember what was written on the board.

Soul: A spiritual essence that some believe The agent that binds humanity together. Encourages moral behavior.

I take a moment to criticize the definition and its obvious flaws. Not all mankind believes in souls. Where do they fall into this definition? They don't, but hopefully, if they've got any power, they're smart enough to see the little value there is in this concept.

Biology: The genetic force that drives humans apart. Often incites violent struggles.

More flawed definitions. Though, this one has an air of truth to it. . .

______________

All of us are headed back to earth from the outlying Colony. Our shuttle, nearly finished breaking through the lower atmosphere, prepares for a hard landing. No one celebrates our safe return. We all know a sea of nuclear warheads is descending upon us, dropping through the same atmosphere we just passed through. This was it. The end of everything.

But I wasn't going to have it. "I know how to stop the nukes." Everyone looks at me; their dark, empty eyes stare blankly. All hope has left them. We touch down violently, but not a moment too soon. Immediately, I create a purple shield of energy and extend it out, all around me, protecting my classmates and a portion of the shuttle-craft. The nukes hit ground.

FFFWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!

Fallout descends upon us, drowning the air in a blood red hue, buffeting my shield, heating it beyond the realms of human survival. Every piece of the shuttle not protected by the shield is destroyed, yet we survive. When it was over, I couldn't help thinking, Maybe it would have been better to die quickly, instead of slowly. From the looks on my peers' faces I could tell they were thinking the same thing.

Dropping the shield, I notice my friend sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, and rush over to her, but the boy from before tries to push me away, giving me some ass-backwards reason as to why I should get away. I tell him off, refuting his point with enough logic to shut him up. Lifting her into my arms, I teleport away.

"Well this is great," comments the young man from before.

There was a long silence before anyone spoke up.

"Do you think they'll be back. . ?"

______________

I appear in a lobby. The teal haired girl is standing beside me now, perfectly alright. As I approach the uniformed security guard behind the wooden counter, he doesn't even blink at our strange and sudden appearance. After I inform him of our situation, and our need to move beyond this check point, he informs me that he's a zombie.

"You seem too intelligent to be a zombie."

"That's what all the other zombies say. So they stiffed me with job."

"Well, are you going to let me by?"

"No, sorry."

"That's not good enough. Either let me by, or I'll force my way through."

He stands up and pull his Maverick on me.

"Do it," I whisper, reaching out my hand.

"Oh, I will!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Reaching out with my mind, I catch the projectiles as they leave the blaster and launch them right back at the guard. He's stunned, but it wouldn't last long. Taking the girl's hand I lead her further into the facility. . .

That is one hell of an epic dream. I'm surprised you manage to remember the conversations so well. Impressive.

Yeah, I surprised myself on that one. Especially since I only got to write down half of it before heading off to work. Shockingly, a lot of the dialog in there is almost exactly as it was said in the dream. The only big exception to that is the conversation with the security guard at the end. The last two lines are accurate, but the rest is simply how the whole thing played out, and the word choice varies greatly from what was actually stated, even if the meaning is the same.

15.08.2010

Eight (Non-lucid)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

The aerial surveillance camera pans quickly and zooms in, tracking the movement of eight military transport jeeps as they blaze through the pine forest, kicking up light brown dirt into the air behind them.

"Eight?!" says a voice. Was it my own? "There are supposed to be nine. . . You don't think he. . ."

The boy, Achilles, stood before us, as his men removed the dark burlap bags from our heads. He begins talking gently to us, still trying to win us over, but the feigned kindness quickly turns into malicious indignation as he remarks on what all of us have already noticed.

There are only eight of us.

What happened to Crazy Tom? Abandoned? Left for dead? That's certainly what this scumbag wants us to believe. . .

I have to know the truth. So, when Achilles finally finishes his tirade and turns to leave, I make my move. Toggling Super Jump I leap into the air, higher and faster every second. Still airborne, 150' up, I turn myself back from whence we came and start the search for our comrade at arms.

Traveling at speeds in excess of 200MPH tends to get you places quickly. Soon enough, I spot an opening in the trees. I know this is where I'll find Tom. More than that, I know Achilles set a trap here. Still, that's not going to stop me.

Setting down, I immediately spot the remains of a crashed and burnt jeep, but upon further inspection I fail to find any corpses. Determined to locate some kind of evidence, I venture further into the forest, which quickly turns to swampland.

A woman's laughter echoes behind me. Could this be the trap? I ponder as I whip around toward the source of the surreal sound. There, in the pale moonlight, amidst the moss covered trees was indeed a woman, and she wanted me to follow her.

She takes me to a thin veil of vines under a large fallen tree that has created a natural archway. Beyond the green mess I can see movement and activity. It doesn't take my curiosity long to get the better of me after the woman passes through the gateway. Cautiously, I make the plunge.

The dark swamp is now a resort, with people everywhere, lounging about and in the many clear watered pools. Something is off. A sinister presence becomes apparent as several of the 'guests' and the woman from before slowly circle around me, moving ever closer.

Shaking my pitchfork at them, I shout, "What have you done with him! Where's Crazy To--" Lethargy strikes me as I feel a sharp prick on my neck. The swamp-woman is biting me, and there's nothing I can do about it. I feel drained, helpless, but it doesn't hurt. . . No. . it actually. . . feels kinda. . . go--NO! With a burst of will, I right myself and try to shake her off, but the other guests take their bites, too. . . latching onto my flesh. . . I really am helpless. . . aren't I. . ?

No. . . My struggle is weaker this time, and last only a moment. The power they have over me is remarkable. Most of me wants to give in and enjoy my demise, and the part that wants to fight, to live, is quickly fading. . .

I die, willingly.

That is...scary. Combined with your other end of the world dream, I'm a bit spooked.

It was a disconcerting experience, to say the least.

There's actually more to this one, as in additional dreams that continued the story, but I think I'm gonna leave it as is.

Damn, that is scary. O_O

Reminds me of all these dog dreams where my arm gets bitten and falls off.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

16.08.2010

The One Where I Play The Piano (Non-lucid)

★★☆☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

Not convinced of our abilities, Jeremy Clarkson, one of our instructors, forced me and the one other pianist in the orchestra to compose three separate, complex pieces on the spot using nothing but our pinkies; the music we created was beautiful, exciting, and inspiring, yet also morose and haunting.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

17.08.2010

Tugging at Heartstrings (Non-lucid)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

After murdering the Chief of Police's son (before he can murder me), I cunningly convince the Chief to adopt me and another young orphan girl when he starts questioning us.

Originally Posted by XeL

Damn, that is scary. O_O

Reminds me of all these dog dreams where my arm gets bitten and falls off.

I hate dream dogs sometimes. They're violently aggressive more often than not. =/

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

18.08.2010

Security War (Non-lucid)

★★☆☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

I battled wits with my good friend and RA, as he tried to use the knowledge he gained during his internship to lock me out of the school's system, while I used my own summer experiences to subvert his plans and bypass his security blocks; by winning the inevitable arms race, I eventually won the entire war.

That's one helluva nerd war!

I hate dream dogs sometimes. They're violently aggressive more often than not. =/

OMG, I KNOW! They're always so damn aggressive!

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

21.08.2010

Ghost Town (DILD)

★★☆☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

Without any goals in mind, I wandered around aimlessly, in an eerily-deserted, colorful, suburban dreamscape, for what seemed like hours; the dream ended when I got upset with a ski-ball machine that called me out for 'cheating.'

Originally Posted by XeL

OMG, I KNOW! They're always so damn aggressive!

Ran into a pack wolves last night. They wanted to kill me pretty bad, so I had to placate them like I do Raptors.

Then some people came looking for me so I sicked my new wolf friends on them. >.>

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

27.08.2010

This Church is Flammable. Your Argument Is Invalid. (Non-lucid)

★☆☆☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

My wife attempted to convince me, in front of a church, why I should go to Mass by reading off a pamphlet she just picked up which offered counter-points to "The Top 10 Reasons to Not Go to Church"; a counter argument to "wasting an hour of my life each week, performing bizarre cannibalistic rituals, in order to gain the affections of a bearded man in the sky" was not listed in the booklet.

Concerns and Questions

So, these single sentence entries are nice and all, but I'm worried they're making me complacent when it comes to writing up full entries.

My question, to those who care enough to respond, is what should I do about it?

I was thinking of limiting myself to no more than 5 Triple S's between full entries. Of course, this is assuming that these little bite sized snacks aren't quite cutting it for you gaiz. But if everyone is fine with them, or if some actually prefer these to fully detailed entries, let me know so I can make a more informed decision. Personally, I'm fine with either, but I really want to bring a certain level of quality to this DJ. To do that, I need to know what you, the reader, want from me.

To make this simple (and since I can't make a poll out of this), I'll write a list of possible things you may want to see more/less. Simply pick a number, and comment with that number and an optional elaboration, if it's not too much trouble, that is.

Here we go:

1. These little sizzler things don't leave me feeling full. I'd prefer a real meal from you, word-slave.
2. I like these newfangled single sentence entries. They're short, sweet, and still have enough flavorful detail to keep me coming back.
3. Give me both, in equal helpings. Or else.
4. Moar Bonus Entries of Doom, please. I need them to better construct my personality profile of you, so that when I kill you, and wear your skin, no one will notice a change in your behavior and become suspicious.
5. Those multi-dream entries have some pretty cool stories, bro. Why don't you do more of those, instead?
6. I have another opinion which I will now explain to you:

Edited for improved awesome.

28.08.2010

The Cult (DILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

This looks less than safe.

As I enter the old-tyme, run-down, elevator, I cant help but notice the slanted walls and stain-splattered, dirty yellow upholstery. The door squeaks shut as I randomly hit a floor. I have nowhere to go but up, after all.

My wretched metal tomb lurches as it moves, slowly, upwards into this forsaken hotel. . .

DING!

Hmm. That went better than expected, I muse as I exit the elevator, into the much more luxurious, five-star hotel floor. Walking down the hallways, I pass some strange looking fellows. Very well dressed, but not in any discernible uniform. They greet me kindly, and I return the gesture, rounding the corner into a large meeting room. Ornate pillars dot the perimeter of the area, and off to the left stand numerous folding chairs lined in pew-like rows. Each chair faces forward, toward, a marble altar, complete with curved stairs and huge red and gold-trimmed banners sporting some indistinguishable symbol.

Striding to the chairs, I take a seart. Almost instantly, people begin to stream in and take up seats around me. It becomes clear this is some kind of cult, and they're about to have a mass. I don't belong here. Maybe if I lie low, no one will notice--what am I doing? Standing up, I draw my Katana from my side. The DCs around me gasp and scramble out of the way as I begin my trek out of this ridiculous place.

Two guards block my path out. Not waiting for them to move, I strike them down. . . Or, that's what would have happened if my blade had actually cut. From behind me, "Look at how weak he is. He can't even cut us with his sword."

Like hell, I can't.

I turn quickly and Flash Step to the source of the voice: a colorfully robed man with a golden staff. We fight. My nimble slashes find their way past his rather poor defenses, but each blow I land doesn't even graze him. He begins laughing.

"Bankai!"

Energy bursts out around me and encircles my blade. Swiping downward, I cleave his staff in two. I don't hear any laughter as I shove my Katana through his shoulder. Looking into his eyes, I make sure he understands, 'I'm not done yet.'

"Reverse Bankai, Resurrection!"

My view pops out to third person as light surrounds my body. I feel my sword merge with me, encasing my hands and lower arms, turning them into massive, symmetrical hammers. My grip on the dream wavers. Everything starts to fade away. . .

Oh no you don't.

Utilizing seat of my pants attention manipulation, I'm able to recreate the dream, keeping my new, taller, more muscular form. Unfortunately, I'm no longer in that room. Before me lies a long and perilous staircase, into the heavens. Starting the long climb, towards what I assume is the final battle with the cult leader, three armed men assault me from behind.

My hammers make quick work of their futile attempts to cut me. Two of them I crush outright, while the other survives my initial pound long enough to inform me I've already killed the robed man from before, along with twelve others. This thought sits well with me as I continue my endless climb.

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

03.09.2010

Every Little Thing. . . (DEILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

A DC informed me the Advanced ToTM was to kill an angel, so I summoned one, placed my hand on his pearly white, robed shoulder, drew my blade, and told him it would be okay as I rent open his chest, slashed through his throat, and drove my katana through his back before finally bringing it out and shoving it into his head; I brought him back to life afterwards, of course.

Sweet DJ. Have you stopped looking for Ice btw?

Originally Posted by Aleksmy

Sweet DJ. Have you stopped looking for Ice btw?

For now, yeah. I figure he'll either show up next month or he won't.

06.09.2010

I Just Wanted a Drink. . . (DEILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

As I fall asleep, I hold onto the waking world using the annoying pop music blaring through my closed window. Stupid freshman events. . .

A forest. I need to form a forest. . .

Blackness surrounds me as I make the transition.

Green leaves swirl about my vision as I spin and fall into the dream. When everything solidifies, I find myself in a location filled with buildings like the ones you'd find on any college campus. Not enough trees. The tavern and the town are in the middle of the woods. Not satisfied with my surroundings I quickly level most of the buildings around me with a thought, and push the remains underground, replacing the plots with dirt and grass. In a similar fashion, I pull hundreds of trees from beneath the ground to the surface, shooting mounds of dirt high into the air.

Better, I think, This place still needs a river. Still using nothing but the power of my will, I bevel a long stretch of winding earth, snaking it around trees and near the few remaining buildings. As soon as I finish with that, I pull enough water up to create a decent sized river, and set everything in motion. That's good enough for me.

Walking through my creation, I try to recall Nomad's tasks. I can only remember the one about the Hoppy Brains Tavern, so I figure I'll start there. After walking a good distance I come across a very upscale building, with a fancy HB crafted in the open metal gate and metal sign hanging over the door. While my logical self told me this was not the place, something deeper--perhaps my character--was telling me this is where I needed to be.

In front of the door was a female hostess in a simple, white, long-sleeve shirt and black slacks. She stops me, asking if I had made a reservation. I do what my character would do and tell her the truth. Disappointed I wouldn't be getting that drink, I head off the property as the dream starts to collapse around me. . .

DEILD.

Back in the forest I had created, I find myself next to a large lake. Someone behind me gets my attention. Turning, I draw my blade from my side. Sure enough, it's another Shinigami, but his robes, although of traditional make, are white--definitely not standard uniform. He grins broadly, in an almost friendly manner, Zanpaktou in hand. In a flash, we cover the distance between us, crossing blades. My view cuts out, showing the two of us, and the glaring disparity between our uniforms. Sharp metal sparks brightly as the two of us clash. Our movements are so precise and coordinated, that neither of us can get an edge. To the untrained eye, we appear to be equals. . .

Standing on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the lake, Nomad is chastising me for the fight. He tells me that it's hard to look those we wish to kill in the eyes, "It's better to tear the baby from its mother's arms and immediately throw it off the edge of the cliff than it is to look at its face first." I think back to the fight with the mysterious stranger. I certainly didn't mean to kill him. Our fight, if you can even call it that, was more a friendly hello than anything else. Perhaps this was a person my character knew long ago. He definitely felt familiar. . .

"There are lessons you need to be taught." Nomad states bluntly.

"Who's going to teach me?"

"You'll find out," he says as he strikes me, hard, launching me from the cliff. Dropping through the air, I resist the instinct to fly, and instead prepare for whatever lies beneath the surface.

Crashing into the still waters, I can't help thinking about sharks, so what do I have the pleasure of facing down in this murky water as soon as the bubbles clear? Why, a twenty foot great white of course. Staying cool under pressure, I tear my blade from my side and sever its head from its body in one fell motion. Blood permeates through the water as the dead shark sinks out of sight; I sheathe my sword and rise to the surface.

A short while later, two mermaids approach me, and grab my arms. I don't struggle, assuming they're here to take me to my teacher. We reach the center of the lake, and from the depths, rises King Triton, only about 100 times larger, and with a more monstrous body.

His lesson consists of holding me underwater for long periods of time. I cheat and breathe normally, staying calm the whole time. Afterwards, there's a feast at a rather large, golden, banquet table.

Spock gets moody around a couple of girls, and storms off, leaving them for Captain Kirk to woo. Picard was there, too, but not really doing anything interesting.

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

For now, yeah. I figure he'll either show up next month or he won't.

Yeah, he was a intresting character.

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

[INDENT]

06.09.2010

I Just Wanted a Drink. . . (DEILD)

★★★★☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

[COLOR="#696969"]As I fall asleep, I hold onto the waking world using the annoying pop music blaring through my closed window. Stupid freshman events. . .

Wow, is it possible to let your mind stay awake using music? I thought that just would distract your whole body. Insane dream. You showed real skill when creating that forrest. Keep it up.

Things have been slow with the dreaming lately. I can only recall a few select non-lucids and none of them are worth writing about. . .

¡Single Sentence Sizzler!®

15.09.2010

I Like What You've Done With the Place (DILD)

★★★☆☆

NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID

Originally Posted by Mzzkc

I had a pleasant visit to Hell (it felt really homey) wherein I got into a quick spar with Hollow-Controlled Ichigo; it turns out you can chop up your opponent's blade if you swing yours really, really hard.