ph_logs | January Event - Lost in Dreamland

January Event - Lost in Dreamland

**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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Far. But not so far that you cannot find her.

The land they will take her through is cold and dark, in the grip of the more barren seasons. Nothing to keep her company, nothing but the shadow of a mountain that looms overhead, and it becomes clear enough after a time that her destination is there. The path becomes rockier, more sharp edged, and still they keep onwards. Until at the base of the mountain, there is a crack, large enough for a person to wriggle through, and the lights go inside, into the darkness.

Faintly, in the depths, the sound of water.

There is very little light ahead.

Valdis follows the motes though the wasteland, not daring look anywhere but ahead. She tirelessly climbs the mountain, paws easily carrying her up and to the crevice. Her lips curls again as the motes go inside. She doesn't want to shift back into that vulnerable, human form. It's far too delicate, too easily broken, too weak...but the Hound cannot fit in that crack and she's not keen on tearing open the mountain to get inside. With a small sigh she shifts, her form shrinking painfully into her human form, the one she doesn't want to be.

Another deep breath, and she squeezes through the crack, following the motes into the mountain, praying they will actually lead her to Fever.

They create a path, luminous and leading her on. Rocky, and beginning to get humid the further they go. But the sound of the water grows louder, louder, even as she traverses steep and sheer ledges until the river comes into view. Bioluminescent plants grow around, offering subtle illumination, some attended by motes the same as which guided Valdis there, and the air is heavy with humidity, with a scent closer to a forest after a thunderstorm than a mountain itself.

And as promised, floating there, by all perceptions to be just sleeping, is Fever. Cradled by the water, even as it flows, her eyes closed as if this was all just a simple diversion. Tucked away from the rest of the world.

Valdis slowly follows the path, keeping every sense alert just in case this is not as easy as it appears. This doesn't seem like the inside of a mountain, but more like a valley, or something out of a novel. The sheer and steep ledges are nothing, but she treads carefully, not wanting to have anything delay her reunion with Fever. Slowly it becomes more forest-like in scent and aura, despite still being a mountain. It's almost peaceful.

Even when she sees Fever, she doesn't rush to her side, not sure what dreams may impact her awakening. If she even can wake.

"Fever?"

Her eyes open slowly when her name is called, but her gaze isn't focused - the glassy look of someone in a trance, dreaming within a dream, her thoughts occupied fully.

Unmooring herself from the earth, the motes had called it. Still, some response is better than no response.

Valdis wades into the water, kneeling next to Fever, observing her with concern. That glassy look in her eyes tells her that her partner isn't entirely here, and while she may not be reacting violently, she could be unpredictable. She reaches for Fever's hand at the same time she reaches for her soul, projecting comfort and soothing feelings.

"Where are you?"

There's a funny thing that happens when Valdis reaches for her soul.

Rather than being in the body in front of her, there's a sensation of it being everywhere around them. Diffused over the forest-like area, sunk into where the rocks rest on each other. As if Fever herself was expanded and stretched across. Under a great strain, bearing the weight of the entire mountain on her shoulders. But present. Very, very, present.

I thought I felt someone slip inside...

Her voice gives a little hum, and her body takes a deeper breath before she blinks, waking up fully. The sense of her soul does not change, but Fever smiles all the same.

"...but this'll be easier for conversation. Hi, Valdis."

The sensation is familiar, but not in an ideal way. A memory of an ability that is dangerous to use, but one that she had been contemplating more and more as she tries to discover who is friend and who is foe. Yet...this is Fever and she's not being repelled or attacked in what could pass as a soul plane if she really wanted to draw comparisons.

To her credit, she doesn't react in any large way, not like when those chains had been stopping her from moving forward.

"I'm confused."

She looks at the body before her.

"Is this not your dream?"

"Are we dreaming?"

She sits up, soaked to the skin from the river water. It's cool, but not uncomfortably so with the atmosphere.

"Dreaming or being awake, the two mix and merge here. Even now, I'm only talking to you like this because you're used to it. Though, you coming here in a dream makes more sense the more I think about it.

Valdis turns her head slightly, watching Fever with uncomfortable concern. As much as this seems like a soul plane, it doesn't seem like the right description.

"Did you become a god when I wasn't looking?"

She's only half joking, but this feels like a scenario where a god would speak to someone.

"Definitely not. Only someone very irresponsible would make me of all beings into a god."

It's not the sort of thing you inherit, in her world.

That's a relief, she's not sure she could be in a relationship with an actual god, even if she loved them.

"Then would you care to explain what is happening?"

"You're in the heart of the mountain. The one I built, for all the souls I brought with me. This is a place for them to rest peacefully - you met some of them earlier."

Motes, but not motes at all.

"Here, I can show you around, if you haven't already had the chance. Different parts of it are different things. I tried to make it something they'd like."

Valdis takes a step back.

"You created a...heaven for all the people you killed?"

The motes who made her play word games, who led her to Fever. They should have been angry, vengeful things, but they weren't. That didn't make any sense.

"A resting place. I don't know if it's heaven, but it's better than an unmarked grave, or no grave at all, right?"

And this is why they lack their vengeance, why they only want to help. Because they are tended to, and cared for. Because she's built them a place to rest. Wove her soul into the foundations, to make it last. Gave them somewhere peaceful to be.

"I finally made things right. I can't do anything for their families, but...I made it right for them."

Valdis is still very confused, torn between whether this is simply a wish of Fever's, or if it is truly a reality. Based on her limited understanding of what this place is, she can only believe it is a wish. Fever does not have the power to create something like this.

"Fever."

She moves closer again.

"I know you want to make amends with them, you want their forgiveness, but this is not a real place, you are in a dream."

"Of course it's a dream, Valdis. Because you're here."

That's the simple fact of it. Her eyes lift upwards, gazing into the vast space overhead. The way the plants are placed, it's almost like looking up at the stars.

"In reality you are far away, somewhere safe. And I could not wish for better for you. You will never need to come here. No one else should need to. This land is a forsaken one, and it will take a long, long time for even the hardiest of beasts to return. If they choose to return at all."

She shrugs her shoulders, pulling her knees to her chest.

"But it's better this way."

"You're with me though, we are both on Morrow Isle, all this is just the working of one of the Demons."

Valdis reaches for Fever's hand.

"You don't have to stay here, come with me, help me find the others so we can leave this realm."

She can take it, but Fever looks at her, perplexed, as her hand lies limply in Valdis's grasp.

"Leave? I can't leave."

Isn't it obvious why?

The sinking feeling that has been developing over the course of their conversation comes into reality. Fever thinks this is her fate, her prison, her punishment for what she once did.

"Yes. You can."

She doesn't try to pull Fever with her, not wanting to cause a fight just yet, or really at all.

"If they have forgiven you as you say, then you can go with me."

If anything, her guilt is trapping them as much as it is trapping her.

"No, I can't. If I leave, Valdis, this place falls apart. It can't stay standing without me."

And she means that literally. Her soul, everywhere in this place - should it be removed, it would be breaking the foundations of what has been created. Tearing it apart. That was the price of weaving such a wish. It's fair, isn't it? All the life she stole, ripped from the world in so many gruesome and abhorrent ways, repaid with her own, in a way that does not make more corpses for the world to let rot.

"Please. Can't you be happy that I'm helping them?"

No, she can't be happy, for Fever or for the souls.

"You are holding them prisoner, Fever. You need to let them go; trapping them here isn't helping them."

Even within the realm of the nightmare, she knows this is barely better than what the Void does to the souls she takes.

"You aren't giving them peace by keeping them from reuniting with the families in the afterlife."

"I have trapped none of them."

She pulls her hand away, a frown deepening on her face.

"I have never stopped them from going where they wish, reuniting with who they wish. They clung onto me. Angry and hateful and wanting their vengeance, denied the opportunity to rest, denied even the decency of being remembered."

Rising up from her seat, she starts walking, gliding on top of the river's surface instead of touching the ground.

"They are not prisoners. They go when they wish to."

Valdis releases her hand as Fever moves away, but she rises to follow, despite the fact that she must wade through it all.

"Are they peaceful and wanting to help or are they vengeful? They can't be both, Fever."

Edited 2025-01-25 22:47 (UTC)

"They were vengeful. Now that they have a sanctuary, they're peaceful."

It's very straightforward, in her eyes. Thankfully, she's not moving so fast Valdis can't keep up.

"Give someone care and a safe place to be, listen to them, have their needs met, and they are at liberty to help as much as they want."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject