I’ve felt like crap all day; run down and generally unwell, but not specifically sick with anything in particular. I finally left work at about 12:30, came home, and went straight to bed. Just woke up about 20 minutes ago and, while I don’t feel energetic, I do feel a bit better than before. I hope I shake off whatever it is quickly, I don’t want to get sick, especially during the summer.
I was just thinking the other day that it’d been a long time since I’d remembered any dreams, but last night and this afternoon made up for it.
I dreamed I was a ghost wandering the halls of an old, run down hospital that was still in use. I remember entering a patient lounge area where some old men were sitting listlessly on couches, then moved on to an open ward where a young guy got off his bed and came toward me. I got ready to try and scare him but felt bad about doing it.
I dreamed I was with three people who were trying to do some magic ritual to seal a demon of some kind into a jewel box with a stained-glass lid. There was a huge sense of urgency to it at the beginning, but my alarm clock kept going off. I’d hit snooze and go back into the dream, but with each return the sense of urgency decreased, and the people doing the ritual got less and less interested in bothering with it.
During my nap I dreamed about a group of magical rebels fighting a Nazi-like regime, most of whom were captured and tortured, including myself. I’d used a spell to block the memory of the pain, but I remember a lot of screaming throughout the whole place. It all had a very Shadowrun feel to it: more magical cyberpunk than Harry Potter. The dream picked up after we’d escaped or were released (can’t remember which), and the Allies were liberating the country. I was walking down a road when enemy fighters went overhead, and Allied AA guns hidden in a farmhouse opened fire, bringing down half of the fighters. Running from the wreckage were two of the heads of the prison where we’d been held. I passed one of them and we exchanged words, with him saying something like it wasn’t my place to take vengeance on him. As he moved past me I cast a spell, grabbed the air as if grabbing his head and legs, and twisted. From behind me I heard screams and snapping bones. Guess it was my place after all.
From there I was in my grandmother’s house, shortly after the war, and I was explaining everything I’d done and what had happened to me, when a storm blew up and the weather warnings on the TV got increasingly worse. When they said a tornado had touched down I looked out the back door to see one on the ground, headed toward us. I got the doors and windows shut, and got Mom and Grandma into the basement as the house started to shake.
Then I woke up and laid there listening to the noises outside, thinking that maybe the dream was a warning about the real weather. But no, it’s still bright and sunny out as I write this.