And as if to prove it...

[smokingboot]

after many hours of no fecking sleep, I dreamt of dragons last night. The dream was vibrant and disturbing enough for me to want to record it.


I dreamt that I was a dragon, a great black shadowy thing, and that it was time to fly. I was searching for a certain house, a certain person, and I found it by checking the air/aura around houses; easy for me to see as I was the size of Smaug. Around their house grew a collapsing shadow*, and I flew to it in an instant, sitting on the roof and promptly collapsing the whole house. I found the man in the rubble and roared at it, angry at some attack it had perpetrated upon my child, of all things. This makes no sense to me, cos a)I have no children and b)I am not even remotely maternal or broody.

I told him that he would never have another (child, I guess) of its like, try as he might, and then things got colourful. I shrank myself so that I could touch him without swallowing him by accident. I slipped my lower jaw under his prone body and pushed my teeth up through his spine and stomach. Watching them bulge up and pierce through was actively enjoyable, but I was very careful not to kill him outright, or to take his consciousness away. I reminded him of how careful I had been with his children.

Then I took him by one of his legs (a damaged one) and flipped him upwards, to the satisfying music of hearing his hip crack, and one leg hang uselessly in the air. I methodically smashed his head against the nearby remains of a wall, over and over again. I put him down when the side of his head had an arrow bracket shaped dent in it, and told him that that if he ever hurt my child/children again (?) I would hurt him so badly he would look back upon 'The Time of The Curse,' as one of comparative comfort. I didn't hate the man. He was not Eeeevilll. He had just done some wrong things, and in that shape, I had no pity.

*One thing of note: I had been expecting him to have defences around/in the house, and felt considerable surprise to have breached his walls so easily, probably because I was used to rampart landings!



I have pity now. In the dream the man was a mess before I started, by the end he looked like death. I am a bit shaken by the vehemence of my subconscious. I genuinely don't feel this angry about anything! I have no children, nothing and no-one has been harmed, and I have no idea what the back of my head was roaring about.

Fatigue does odd things to my mind. Ironically I feel fine today, actively peaceful. Maybe I need to beat people up in my dreams more often!