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

“Yes, you do. If you weren’t ashamed you wouldn’t be sacrificing yourself like this.”

Fever doesn’t seem to be in the mood for listening however, not in the midst of this dream.

“And what kind of dream do you think this is.”

"The one where I imagine someone there. And then I try to imagine what they'd say to me. Because I harbor doubts, but I must answer my own questions."

She sighs, casting her gaze to the side instead.

"...I made the choice of my own volition. What would you have me do instead? Some of them might never find a way back."

Sorrow mixed with fury flashes through her eyes as she realizes that Fever thinks she is a figment of her imagination. It's difficult to stay calm and think through things clearly after she's been tormented and dehumanized, and on top of that, Fever believes she isn't real.

"Or perhaps, I am real and I walked through Hell to find you. Do you remember when you said you would do the same for me?"

For a moment, she's quiet, almost eerily still, but she finally speaks again.

"I remember. That was so very long ago...but I remember."

But the way she says it, it's a memory that takes effort to grasp.

The stillness, the thought, the feeling that it's hard to hold onto, like something it trying to shift her focus...all things that show Valdis she is starting to get through. She once tried to get through to Fever through violence, but that hadn't worked then, and it wouldn't work now, which is why she's trying to appeal to the woman she loves. She reaches out to grab Fever's hand again.

"Do you remember our conversation in the Casino? When we used our emotions instead of our words? What about our first kiss? Or when Sheo and Mortanne freed you from your father and I kissed you on the porch in the freezing cold? Do you truly believe that I, who knows more about souls than most, couldn't find someone I love in a place like this?"

"I..."

Slowly, she's sinking, drifting downwards until she's standing in the water again, next to Valdis. Clearly trying to remember something, by the look on her face - it's hard, it's like it's slipping from her grasp no matter how she tries and contains it. Distress rising, as reality wants to crack for her.

"But you went somewhere, and I..."

But she's here. How is that possible, still?

In this dream, it seems everyone left her. They left her alone to dwell upon everything she did without any kindness to counter her fears.

"But you remember my promise, don't you?"

Valdis reaches for her hand, taking a step around to stand in front of Fever and look her in the eyes.

"I said I would always find you."

The struggle, what is true trying to assert itself over what has only grown in soil touched by madness and mental unrest, it's obvious in her eyes. Painful, really, constantly trying to get a grip and being unable to.

There is a tremor that runs through the earth, strong enough to leave ripples in the water. Fever seems to notice none of it.

"You left." A whisper, faint. "You all just...went away. Why didn't anyone say anything? I know I don't deserve an answer, but..."

At least tell her why. At least confirm there was a reason.

Edited 2025-01-31 05:28 (UTC)

"If I left without a word, it was not by choice."

Valdis steps closer again, not to crowd Fever, but to invite her to finish closing the distance between them.

"Still, I'm sorry I left you alone, but I am here now, and I won't leave you again."

When she moves in, it's to embrace Valdis tightly, the grip of someone petrified that at any second, she's going to reveal herself to be another illusion, another trick of the mind. For now, she's solid beneath Fever's hands, and that's something. She's not leaving. Hope starts to rise in her, quiet, skittish as a stray dog.

"It'll take me a bit to make rooms for you, but don't worry, it's no trouble at all."

Because she's staying, right? She's staying, because she can't be leaving, and Fever can't leave, so the answer is simple.

(And yet, and yet, there is a thread of Fever in there, who desperately wants out.)

Valdis embraces Fever in return, but her response was not what she was hoping to hear, in fact, it's not even in line with the desire she senses coming from her partner.

"Fever."

She holds her tightly, without hesitation, pouring her love for the other woman into the embrace and into her soul.

"There are others waiting for us to return to them. Let go of your guilt and come home."

"Weren't you listening to me? This has to be my home now. What would you have me do for everyone otherwise?"

It hurts. Every moment, it hurts Fever to be in this place. But it's bearable, because it has to be. Does fabric cry out when the moths start to wear it thin and chew holes through it? It remains.

Everything that Valdis gives hurts in a different way - stiff muscles starting to move again, the pain of working through something necessary.

Does she even remember home, anymore? Does she still have the right to one?

"The dead don't need you, Fever, but I do. Please turn your mind to those still alive and all that we want for you."

She takes a deep breath.

"Don't give up for future in favor of your past."

"What past? All I have is ruin. They aren't my past, they are simply the consequences of my actions. I don't get to run away from that because I happened to forget."

(Still, that desperate part of her in the center, asking, pleading, get me out, take me out of here, please.)

"Following me is not the same as running away."

Valdis steps back, drawing Fever with her, back the way they came.

"And letting go is not the same as forgetting."

"It's not enough for them. It's not doing enough for them."

She's not strong enough to properly resist being drawn along, stumbling along after Valdis because she has no other options.

"Just living different can't be the only thing to do. There has to be more, or it's wrong."

"Well, I'm not responsible for them, only you, and we are going back to Max, Miles and the others."

She continues to lead Fever back the way the light motes had originally led her from.

The motes are starting to rise from their places, little lights, but their light no longer seems warm, easy. It feels harsher, colder, painful to really look at.

"That doesn't mean I can just leave them!"

She pulls against Valdis's hands fruitlessly, still trying to put up a token resistance. Her mind and her body feel at odds, and she isn't sure which to listen to, who knows what's going on, if this still is truly real.

The motes don't seem happy and since this place is a reflection of Fever's nightmares, well...

"Fever, I'm sorry, I'm not going to give you a choice in this."

Valdis pauses just long enough to pull Fever back into her arms, drawing every ounce of unneeded life energy out of her soul until she feels the last ounce of resistance fade away.

Her eyes widen as she feels the drain, but with herself spread thin maintaining the structure of the mountain, she doesn't have the resources to make a protracted fight or to block her out. That, and with how Valdis knows her, it's inevitable that she collapses, fainting into the other woman's arms as the excess energy is sapped from her. She won't wake without true rest, and so she can be spirited away.

However, another tremble shakes the entire structure. Stronger this time, as if a warning. If Valdis really means to do this, she has only so much time to do so.

Valdis catches Fever in her arms, feeling only slightly guilty for what she's done. It will be easier if Fever doesn't fight her on this. She looks up at the tremble and recognizes instantly that she can't linger. She scoops Fever up and flees the mountain, going back the way she came far swifter than how she had arrived. She squeezes them both out the crack and onto the mountain side, not certain how much further she will have to go.

The mountain is shaking itself apart, as surely as a building would when the foundations have been ripped out from underneath it. Cracks start to appear in the rocks, and the shaking doesn't stop the farther they go. Little pieces are fracturing, falling, then bigger and bigger. Whatever world Fever had created, it cannot abide them leaving. It cannot survive with her removed, with her at any kind of rest. Imploding on itself, the rocks falling, and even as they escape via the crack, the ground is still unstable.

Valdis will not be safe until she is free of the mountain's shadow. It's crumbling underneath her, dust and stone collapsing, and it will not stop for anything. Better hurry - some of those pieces are beginning to cut off the path.

Valdis shifts, knowing it will be less awkward to carry Fever in this form, then gently scoops Fever up into her jaws. She launches herself down the mountain, faster and more agile than anything her size has any right to be. Once down the mountain she doesn't stop, continuing to sprint across the landscape, carrying her precious cargo as gently as she can.

The sounds of the mountain collapsing are loud, but mixed into the falling rock, the shaking earth, is the sound of voices, all of them focused on the same thing. All of them shrieking, howling in grief, as they are no longer bound in the place. Souls full of loss, of grief, of anger and vengeance and a clawing need for something. A great wave of hunger that knows not what being sated is and never will. Their idyllic sanctuary was always built on grief. Someone would have to bleed for them to make them happy, always.

But the mountain falls anyway. And when the earth finishes trembling, when the great destruction is unleashed, there is nothing left where it once was. Only the wasteland, stained by blood and death, a cursed place without a true future.

Fever remains quiet, all of her life curled up in her chest, around where her heart would be. Protective, as much as a soul can be, of what continues to still beat.

Valdis is glad that Fever is not conscious to hear the agony of what she is leaving behind. Not because she believes it is real, but because it would haunt her even more than it already does.

She continues to run, far from Fever's nightmare and into the nothing between dreams. It's only when she's certain that nothing has followed that she stops and gently puts Fever on the ground, curling around her to wait until she wakes.

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