Nicholas Dreams

3 Giant White Goats and Etheric Daggers

I was living on a farm in northern England. In fact it belonged to me. I was venturing outside in the late afternoon to check on my livestock. My proudest animals were a trio of enormous white goats with voluminous fur and enormous spiraling horns. It was an overcast day and drizzling. I was wearing Wellingtons and accompanied by my friend Lisa and a little scruffy farm mutt.
My dog was being a bit disobedient and I was chastising him for not staying near me. Lisa was complaining about her love life and I was impatient to see my goats. He scurried underneath a fence and I ran after him. We chased him across a field and lost him in some trees. I had to enter my neighbors farmhouse to get to the other side of a field to track him down. As soon as I entered the house I was greeted by my ex-girlfriend Justine and several of her friends. We basically bumped into eachother in a doorway.
We were chest to chest in the the door attempting to squeeze by each other with as little physical contact as possible. She said something saracastic about the situation to which I retorted angrily. Her friends greeted me with open disdain. I was incredibly irritated by their whole vibe so I began arguing with them vehemently. I stepped fully into the room fuming with indignation as they begin haranguing me about a whole complex of issues. There was an enormous round, wooden, farm table with a beautiful meal laid out. Big ceramic crocks of milk, coarse loaves of bread, a platter of meats and cheeses, a veritable harvest feast. I grabbed the edge of the table and overturned the whole affair spraying the girls with food. I stormed out of the house laughing and ranting angrily at them over my shoulder.
I stepped outside into a massive meadow that gradually sloped up and ended at the edge of a beautiful city street. It looked like a stretch of townhouses in Chicago or San Francisco but more european. I was barefoot and making my way up the hill to a set of stairs that exited the park. There were three women behind me on the stairwell. They were all attractive and well dressed and it turned out we were all headed to the same bar at the top of the street. We stopped for a moment on the stairwell to meet eachother. I sat down for second to check my feet as they were quite dirty. They offered me some sort of fancy supplement to help me with my journey.
As soon as we kept walking I lost track of them and was walking on the outskirts of what seemed to be some sort of industrial area. It reminded me of a stretch of interstate near Philadelphia. I walked by an old TV set. On it was playing a video of a shamanic battle between two characters. I was friends with one of them who in my mind was the protagonist. He had just scored a major coup against the man pictured on screen. Somehow he had managed to lodge an etheric dagger in the mans midsection and his opponent was currently doubled over in pain, clutching his abdomen and coughing up yellow bile. I was friends with the winner of the battle but as it was happening psychically he was not pictured in the video feed.
The man who lost, I realized, lived around the corner and I wanted to go check on him even though he was clearly a dubious black shaman of no consequence. I entered his shanty-like room underneath the interstate. There were two other guys in there. One huge black guy with dreadlocks and another Hispanic man eating cereal. The black man was wearing one of my T-Shirts, which I notified him of promptly. I poked around the missing shamans belongings for a moment looking for a talisman to steal.

Confused Patricide in a Suspended Japanese Inn

My brother, father and I were being held captive in a small room. I was aware that the surroundings were distinctly Japanese. In fact we were imprisoned in an incredibly spare traditional inn, replete with tatami, sliding screen doors and dark wood everywhere.
My father was being held captive by an enormous giant of a man who resembled an mongoloid, obese, Bruce Willis. He was kneeling behind my father, holding his head in a sleeper hold. He kept on threatening to snap his neck but seemed intent on keeping us in suspense.
My brother and I were pacing in circles around them, they were in the middle of the room kneeling on the tatami. As we circled around them we became increasingly agitated that the giant was actually going to carry out his threat. I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I grabbed an enormous kitchen knife and clambered up his back. I proceeded to cut deeply into his neck until I felt his body go slack.  As I climbed down from his body and surveyed the gory scene I realized that somehow his body had merged with my father’s and I had inadvertently committed patricide.  My little brother began crying profusely and as I attempted to comfort him he began shaking violently.  He gradually shrank in size and became an infant version of himself.  I picked him and threw him over my shoulder and wrapped him in blankets.

An enormous siren went off throughout the building I was in and I realized I had triggered some sort of alarm system.  I threw the door open and began running around the inn carrying my little brother.  Eventually I came out onto an open, wooden terrace.  I was faced with an enormous industrial scene.

The inn itself was suspended from the underside of an enormous bridge.  Underneath us, sprawling in every direction was a gigantic refinery.  There were miles of pipes, concrete buildings and smokestacks belching exhaust and flames.  There was an elaborate system of suspended, concrete walkways coming off of the inn in many directions.  I could see small platoons of security guards in the distance attempt to get closer to us.  I began running carrying my brother all the while.  I chose paths at random hoping that they would lead us down to street level.  I kept on looking over my shoulder to ensure that the security guards were still at a safe distance.

Finally we exited at the bottom of an enormous concrete ramp and we were at a basic intersection.  It looked like any number of grubby, harsh street corners in Brooklyn, underneath the BQE and overrun with traffic.  I attempted to flag down a taxi.  Finally, in a astate of exhaustion I sat down on the curb, put my “baby” brother down on the sidewalk and began crying spasmodiaclly.

Ceilingless Cathedral

This dream was of such a cliched Anglo-Saxon nature it was almost comical.
I was inside a massive forest, attired quite simply as a traveling knight. I distinctly remember wearing a layered outfit. Chainmail, a tunic with a  leather belt, a cloak and an array of weapons on top of everything My head was uncovered and I was holding a sword, hilt up, blade down.
I emerged from a wall of trees and in front of me stretched a massive structure. It was very long and narrow and made of stone. It resembled an unnaturally long ceilingless Bavarian inn with multiple, tall, slender, A-frame, vertical extrusions along the edges. These triangular faces were primarily constructed of stained glass and they were radiating multi-colored beams into the interior of the space. The floorspace was incredibly long and composed of enormous, wooden floorboards. It gave me the impression of being one enormous nave. I could faintly recognize rows of figures lined up along the floor.
There was a small stone stairwell protruding off of one corner immediately in front of me. I felt amnesiac, like the space was familiar to me but I had forgotten it existed or even that it was located here in the first place. I knew that I was expected to enter the space but couldn’t remember why.
As I stepped up onto the upper level I was greeted by an incredibly long nave-like floorspace. There were no furnishings, just a continuous line of people arranged in two lines facing inward. I was beckoned forward and I began slowly making my way down the central aisle.
I was immediately welcomed with warmth and congratulation. To such an extent that the assembled group felt as if they ought to be family. It was predominantly bearded men garbed as if they were knights or other Arthurian era dignitaries.  I proceeded down the aisle created by two long lines of people.  Gradually as I walked farther in between them it became more and more obvious that I was being intensely welcomed home.  They began patting me on the back and laughing at my bewilderment.  I began laughing when I realized it was real and there was nothing malevolent or false about their behavior.  I needing to stop to catch my breath as I was overwhelmed by the wave of approval and positive energy coming from them.

Pastoral vacation turned voluntary vampire nightmare

This was from a couple months ago, stuck in my mind with extraordinary clarity.  I was on vacation with my family.  We had rented a huge mansion in New Hampshire or Vermont.  It was in a strange neighborhood with an array of other huge, beautiful homes.  It felt like an enormous Quaker village the way the homes were all clustered together.  It felt like a pedestrian neighborhood that was almost totally devoid of paved roads.  There were enormous, beautiful oak trees interspersed throughout.  It was quite idyllic.  I remember arriving at the house with my family (mom, dad and brother).  My brother and I rushed through the house eagerly checking out all the rooms.  The house was totally unfurnished and the rooms were all beautiful and sparse, with hardwood floors, wood paneling and sunbeams pouring in through the windows.

There were other affluent families living in the neighborhood and everyone was getting set up for their vacation time.  There was this very sweet, almost idyllic moment where we were unpacking things from the car and we all sat in front of the house, staring up at it contentedly.

As soon as the evening came closer we began to realize that something was amiss.  It immediately became bitter cold and some of the neighbors began complaining at the utter lack of supplies in their houses.  There was no food, no furniture, and seemingly no lights or anything.  Night fell suddenly and we realized that something was terribly wrong.  I began to hearing muffled screams around the neighborhood and I beckoned my family to run inside and hide in the upstairs.

As I stood in the kitchen of the house I heard a scrambling noise from behind the basement door.  I swung open the door and from out of the darkness I saw a horde of hairless, toothed, vampire-like ghouls rushing up the stairs, climbing the walls and hissing at me.  Strangely I was not in the least bit afraid as I realized I had total psychic dominion over dream-space and could do whatever I wanted with it.  I began vaporizing my antagonists mentally en masse.  They would vanish in a little puff if I pleased or I could pin them against walls at my will.  I shut the door behind me and erected an impregnable wall of brick in front of it.  It dawned on me that the screams all around me came from all the surrounding houses and that every home must have had demons in the basement.

As the realization that the ghouls were roaming the neighborhood dawned on me, true panic set in.  I sat down in meditation and visualized barriers all around the house to protect my family and then raced out into the night to see what was happening.  Just as I feared, people were being maimed and devoured all around me.  I could see the hairless Nosferatu-esque people dragging their victims around, under their homes, feasting on them out in the open and generally causing violent mayhem.  I did my best to destroy as many a I could see but I realized that I couldn’t help everybody simultaneously.

I realized, even lucidly within the dream, that there was some absurd overlap with some recent horror movies.  The thematic and situational closeness to I am Legend and 40 Days of Night were impossible to ignore and it actually helped me take the violence slightly less seriously.  Still I was incredibly dismayed by the violence and I was determined to prevent it.  I spent the remainder of the evening patrolling the grounds and boarding up houses with my mind.

The next day I remember being emotionally exhausted.  Strangely there was no carnage in sight and it almost felt like we might return to a relative state of normalcy.  As nighttime approached again I could tell my family was not looking forward to being trapped inside and having to contend with the sound of murder in the streets.  I promised them I would find a solution to preserve the sanctity of our home and that of our neighbors.  As the night wore on I followed the same bizarre rhythm of psychically boarding up our house, trapping the ghouls in the basement and then traipsing around the neighborhood trying to save everyone.  It quickly became tedious and emotionally draining.

The next day as I was taking down barriers from our house I noticed a strange character next to our house.  He was sunbathing in a beach chair, of the long, chaise-lounge variety, wearing red boy shorts and red-rimmed Ray-Bans.  He was skinny, incredibly pale and his hairline was greying.  He looked up at me through his sun-glasses and began speaking to me in incredibly familiar terms.

He was British, very sarcastic and possibly gay.  He proceeded to tell me that he had an even more omniscient level of psychic control over the scenario and that he knew everything that had been happening to me and could tell that I wasn’t going to be able to psychically endure for much longer as it was obviously draining me.  He said only he could offer me an exit immediately but I would have to accept that everyone (including my family) would be left behind and devoured in the most heartless and demeaning fashion.  He immediately gestured to our parking lot with a casual wave.

To those who don’t know me that well, in high school I was briefly in the possession of a wonderful and bizarre model of 80’s muscle car called the Buick Grand National.  It was enormous, boxy, hideous and could defeat about 98% of the cars on the road in a drag race with ease.  Parked on the flat bed of a car-trailer was a mint condition version of the car.  The engine was running, the windows were down and it was literally  sparkling with little light blings.  Almost without hesitating I told him to go fuck himself and that I had no intention of abandoning anyone.  As soon as the words were out of my mouth an enormous oak tree fell on the car, crushing it dramatically.  The trailer was driven on off the property dragging the tree behind it.

My British “friend” chuckled to himself, leaned back into his chair and wished me a sarcastic “good luck”.  I think he added something about how it was going to be a longtime until I achieved anywhere near enough psychic aptitude to govern this many simultaneous phenomena.

At the time, I thought he was the king of the vampires.  A day or so later, after having the dream, I realized he was an outside “visitor” who was merely chiming in to chastise me for my circular habits and doggedly wasteful self-sacrifice.