January Event - Lost in Dreamland

[pumpkinhollow]

**Plain text version here.

Lost in Dreamland

Bedtime Story

{ CONTENT WARNINGS: Unreality, dream logic. Mind the CWs in individual threads, as they will vary! }

It is no secret that in the Emerald Isles, winter and sleep have a deep connection. To some extent, this is true everywhere. The whole world seems to fall asleep under the blanket of snow. Plants recede back into the ground, trees stand leafless and slumbering till spring, animals hibernate. Nights are longer. But the local folklore intensifies this, as Mortanne presides over Winter and the Beyond.

As the tales go, the Beyond is the realm of souls, the place where the essence of a person goes when it separates from their body. And while this primarily refers to death, it can also refer to the half-step between living and dying--- the unconscious mind. Sleep, and moreover, dreaming. And thus, winter and dreams have always been kindred spirits. Connected through their ties to Mother Mortanne and to a hushed and sleeping world.

Perhaps it is for this reason that when you go to sleep on the night of January 19th, 16:55, it is a deeper, more consuming sleep than you’ve ever felt. One that swallows you whole, dragging you down, and down, and down, into a sunken place that is deeper and more terrifying than dreams.

By the time you think to feel afraid, it is already too late to jolt yourself awake.

LULLABY

Beautiful Dreamer, Wake Unto Me

You wake. Or do you? It feels a bit like waking, and yet, it does not. It is similar enough to waking that one might believe it to be so. You feel ground beneath your feet, or perhaps a bed beneath your back. Or something. You feel… something. It isn’t like waking. But it’s a little bit like waking. Perhaps it is not. But perhaps it is as close as you are able to get. Let’s try this again.

You “wake.” Your mind solidifies and reality defines its shape around you. Your eyes focus and you become aware. What are you aware of?

Whatever it is, it isn’t good. Perhaps it seems good at first, but it is not. Wherever you are, only horrors await you here, pulled straight from your own mind. Or the minds of others.

Move. You must move. The dream is a landscape. You must traverse nightmares to escape. Seek other dreamers, and flee. To the center, to safety in false daydreams. To the underground, where the Necropolis will conceal you. To the edges, where you can feel your consciousness break free of this sunken sleep and return to the world of hard objects and light. But you cannot stay here. Gods help you if you stay here.

[ Your nightmare can look however you desire. Laws of reality and physics do not apply. Fuse them, reshape them, choose your flavor. Be liberal with content warnings and respect sensitive content guidelines, but otherwise, there are no rules. ]

Starlight and Dewdrops are Waiting For Thee

If you reach the center of the dreamscape (or perhaps you “woke up” there), you will find an oasis. You find yourself immediately embraced by a beautiful dream. All of your wishes granted, your deepest desires pulled directly from the core of your soul and brought to life before you in vivid detail.

What sort of dream do you find yourself in? What do you dream of? Is it success, love, peace? A life that never came to pass? For your troubles never to have occurred? Do you dream of fame or glory? No matter how beautiful or extravagant, no matter how simple or selfish, the things you desire most are yours.

You cannot escape from here. This is the center, as far away from the waking world as you can go. But the dream entreats you, as do the illusory figures within it. ”Stay,” they croon. ”There is nothing for you beyond here. Only nightmares, only terror. You are safe here. You are loved and wanted and happy here. Why would you ever want to leave?”

Time blends together. It often does, in dreaming, but this feels different. How long have you been here? Do you remember what you were doing before? How you got here? Have you ever even been to a town called Pumpkin Hollow? You can hardly remember.

Maybe that was the dream, and this is your reality. Even as the edges of it bleed together with that of your neighbor, even as fleeting memories come back to you, even as a little voice deep within you screams at you to wake up--- you have no reason to doubt the legitimacy of this place. Here you are happy and safe. Here you are everything you ever wanted to be, living the life you always wanted. Here there are no debts, no suffering, and you shall never die.

You belong here. Surely.

Sounds of the Rude World Heard in the Day

With how far you had to sink into unconsciousness to be here, it’s hard to believe one could go any deeper. But the Beyond is a many-layered place, and perhaps by descending a bit further, a bit deeper, a bit closer to death, you can find another place. Maybe you have a connection to death that brought you here. Perhaps you find your way by mistake. Either way, you may find yourself on a more peaceful journey through the Beyond through the Frozen Necropolis.

A seemingly endless maze of stone walls, mismatched in their depth as if they were patchworked together over centuries. Mausoleums, slotted tightly against one another. Covered marble passageways. Stone statues and carved reliefs depicting gargoyles, knights, Virtues, mages with skull motifs--- necromancers, perhaps? Banshees and dullahans, elves and humans and dwarves and orcs and fae folk of all sorts. All of these things line a network of cobblestone pathways lined with powder snow drifts and crunchy brown grass. Names are carved into the arches above mausoleum doors. Some are familiar, some are not. Fairbanks, Gladwyn, Dirthariel, Leeds, Larson, Endrin, Applegate, Brenning. Above you, white pillar candles float magically overhead, burning bright, lighting your way through the dark pink sunset sky.

In the distance, you see the achingly thin spires of the Winter Cathedral. An austere grey monolith with ornate carvings of horses and snowflake-shaped stained glass windows. Perhaps you will find some solace there. Otherwise, make your way to the river. A familiar ferryman awaits you--- though returning to reality this way will have a small consequence.

[ Encountering Mortanne here is possible, though her threads will be heavily restricted. You can do a thread here with someone else, though! It’s fine to be here without encountering her. Returning to the island by ferry will cause your physical body to die in the process, leaving you a ghost for the usual amount of time. You can also return to the nightmare and get out through the edge. ]

Lulled by the Moonlight, Have All Passed Away

Should you find the edge of the nightmare, you will be able to push yourself through the iridescent membrane at the edge of consciousness. You float through the seemingly endless darkness for a moment, then another, then a third, senses dull and drifting drunkenly, until suddenly---

Like breaching the surface of water, you return to the solid, bright sharpness of reality. Actual reality, firm and true. You are where you went to sleep the night before, though some time has passed. It might take you a bit to figure out exactly how much, though…

Those who escape the nightmare will find themselves home sometime between 1/20 and 1/30. Those who stay in the dream oasis will be comatose until the dream ends, and will not wake until 2/8. They will find the return to reality deeply unpleasant. What are you willing to endure to keep dreaming a while more?

Comments

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth doesn't know what House Dagoth is, but he can tell it sounds important. "I'm pleased to meet you," he says. "You're well-versed in dreams."

[misbegottendreamer]

“I spent two decades living in dreams, and then another two centuries learning to dwell between waking and dreaming. I have had much time to learn.”

The “skirt” of her tail ripples as if she were floating in a gentle current.

[imjustaman]

"That sounds very lonely in one way, but you must have met many people in dreams," Sephiroth remarks. "Are you able to exist in the normal waking world?"

[misbegottendreamer]

“I do exist there, although there has always felt like there is a barrier between myself and the life I once knew. It feels as if, no matter how much I wake, a part of me shall always remain in the dreaming, waiting for me to sleep. But it is not lonely. My brothers and sisters of House Dagoth are likewise students of such a state of being.”

[imjustaman]

"I am glad you are not lonely," Sephiroth says. He pauses, pondering the rest of her words. He, too, certainly feels such a barrier in his life, albeit for a far different reason. "Is it strange for you, to feel as though part of you is somewhere else?" He can control Jenova cells wherever they are, which makes things very strange in cases such as when Rufus Shinra had foolishly experimented and created several Sephiroths in another realm.

[misbegottendreamer]

"I did, until now. Now that I've seen what I can become in this place, I think that perhaps it's an important part of my gift, that I always have one foot in the dreaming, so long as I never lose the ability to go back to the waking world. When my people first came out of the trance that kept us locked in our slumber, we thought the way of dreaming was an accursed and unholy thing, a mark left upon us by a corrupted god and his blasphemous schemes. But now... we realize we were walking backwards along a path to greater things, and we needed only turn about to find our way to... enlightenment, perhaps? We still aren't quite certain."

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth is intrigued as he listens. "It does seem a great gift," he says. "I am glad you are learning how it can benefit yourself and others. And very grateful you came upon me when I desperately needed help from your gift."

Can he ever feel that way again about his abilities, that they are a good thing? He used to, when he thought he could use them for good. He's trying to feel better about them again by shifting to the second version of his Safer form to protect people in the woods here. But judging from his nightmares, he still has so much understandable fear locked in his heart about what he is and who he is.

[misbegottendreamer]

“I worry that this form will frighten others that I try to help,” she admits.

“Before this, I manifested as an ordinary womer. Then I became this, and I found it was much, much easier to flit between dreams.”

[imjustaman]

"... A womer?" He's not sure if he heard that correctly.

"While you may be right that some will find your appearance frightening, I believe they will come to quickly understand you are here to help." Or he hopes so, anyway.

cw: gender dysmorphia

[misbegottendreamer]

"As you are a man, I am a mer. As some of your people are women, I am a womer. Even if... even if my shape perhaps does not fit the conventions of such."

Re: cw: gender dysmorphia

[imjustaman]

"Ah, I see," he says. "You say you manifested as. You have other forms besides these two?"

[misbegottendreamer]

"I have a form that is closer to an ordinary womer in size- similar to a woman- with the lower body being much closer to such as well, though my facial features are still like what you see here and now."

[imjustaman]

He nods, curious. "I haven't heard of House Dagoth," he admits. "Is that a ruling house in your world?"

[misbegottendreamer]

"It was once a Great House in the land of Morrowind, and perhaps someday it will again hold a place of honor. But for now, we are humbly rebuilding that which is fallen yet unbroken."

[imjustaman]

"It's good you are able to rebuild," he says. "You are resilient."

Is he resilient as well, trying to rebuild his life and his sanity in this world before hopefully returning home to do what good he could there? He would like to think so, at least.

[misbegottendreamer]

“We are an unbroken House. An unbroken people. Unbroken elves. Sometimes I forget that, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

[imjustaman]

"It is very commendable," Sephiroth says. "Not all would have such determination."

[misbegottendreamer]

“I think perhaps more would than we think, were it a matter of survival.”

[imjustaman]

"Perhaps so," Sephiroth concedes with a nod. "Most want to survive."

[misbegottendreamer]

"And so I do not see it as much of a choice," she says. "Either I endure, or I am nothing."

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth nods. "I feel the same. I was always extremely determined to endure. Even death did not stop me. I have already fought my way back from death more than once."

[misbegottendreamer]

“Have you? Curious. You must have quite a story to tell.”

[imjustaman]

"It is," Sephiroth agreed. "Not terribly pleasant, though.... Most of those times were while I was out of my mind."

[misbegottendreamer]

“There are many and more stories from those under the Fourth Corner’s influence. Those stories are not without their share of wisdom. Though I understand if you are not willing to share.”

[imjustaman]

Sephiroth nods. "Most of them involve cruel manipulations of anyone around me, from the one who defeated me several times to an avatar of mine." He sighs. "The one who defeated me ... Cloud ... I hated him at first, and yet I loved him. He bore strong feelings for me as well ... hate, of course.... We have a mental bond that's hard to describe, but I felt that as long as he remembered me, I could always use that bond to come back."