[DREAM LOG ] Fourth Wall Interactive Dreams - Visitors

[kannagara_gods]

Who: EVERYONE!
Where: Anywhere!
When: Week 18, Day 3
Status: OPEN LIKE BURNING
Style: ANYTHING!

This post is the master post for all visitors who would like to start interactive dreams. Feel free to write up your own dreamscape scenario and have characters from Kannagara respond to it and interact with your character's dream self!

The dream doesn't

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♥♥

[whitenighting]

There is but one constant in his dreams though - the dark. The inevitable tugging that makes every fiber of him dig in, heels against it but not quite sure what he's braced against. That much - that is familiar.

But it's wrong, it's different. Enough to make him blink sluggishly for a moment - reality and not-reality, an almost strange realization of this isn't real and... the weird acceptance that comes with that.  Out-of-body yet not. Realizing ah, I'm dreaming,  and then immediately forgetting that.

But as he becomes more aware, like it's himself and not... there is a nagging feeling that something is wrong. Something beyond the faint boom that's almost a lull in his ears except for the way it makes his spine prickle.

And then it - it - registers, like snapping into his body, and then for a moment he chokes, half from being literally so and half on the panic. Can't breath---what---

Gagging reflexively on nothing and swallowing hard only to realize only to have problems getting the lump past---a collar? Cold and smooth and he

[whitenighting]

Double déjà vu. And... something else.

The muscles under his eyes twitch and bunch for a moment at the strain, of glaring and trying to focus on her and push back the sensation in his right hand, but even pain blurs with the darkening that's... everything. The difference in appearance half-registers and doesn't; doesn't matter, it's accepted with the fuzz that is a not-dream and the charade that is Road.

"What-" A wheeze, but too much air's used up to finish the thought; he's not used to whatever is choking him and squeezing so painfully at the movement. So frustrated and fighting a rising panic at that - at not being able to move his arms again - he falls silent with a scathing look. At least he hopes it is; she blurs in and out of focus.

But it's stuttering for a moment between emotions - his and not? Knowing... knowing something and... not. Slippery, can't seem to focus. So he stills a bit for a moment, trying to swallow again, breath shallow past the band, and sort it out. Was this-

A blink for a second.

This is fear. Again

[ergaleomancer]

The first thing you hear is a the sound of a thousand voices, rushing too hard and too fast to make out what they're saying. At first, you think they might all be whispering your name, over and over and over again, but as the noise dulls down--or are you merely getting used to it?--the voices are taking shape. They're calling someone's name, all right. "Theta," they seem to be saying, too many of them to coherently chant. Some are angry, shouting the name like an insult. Some of them are merely curious, calling out as if looking for the person.  Many of them are simply disapproving, calling out in various tones of reprimand and rebuke

Choiceverse!Allen and Kanna!Allen - open to others. Warnings within.

[latenightmoon]

Who: Choiceverse AU!Allen(Allison) Walker, Kanna!Allen Walker, and open to other Exorcists.
Warnings: Gore, blood, dark themes, swearing, death, and possible triggers in the form of internment camps

[whitenighting]

To enter a dream when one isn't asleep is a strange thing, this sort of confusion and conflation of reality and nonreality.

To enter a dream of yourself but not yourself and the strange kind of not-connections... there is jangling; a sort of tug (you should feel this) and tugback (that's not me).

And it's fog at first, vague impressions of sleeping and nightmares (oh, but that's familiar...) and pain that throbs beyond the skull and down the spine past even the soul-

Not something he's felt in a long time beyond half-remembered things that startle him awake in cold sweats and ghost sensations of his eye roiling.

(Wait, that's not him. It is except-)

Muddied memories and slipping of reality until there's a rush of perception to an event horizon where everything is suddenly clear as day with the roaring in his ears-

-to focus on a single 'click'.

And then, next to Allison as reversed twain, Allen. Startled, twisting around in shock at the shift in scenery and instinctively braced, Allen-but-not-Allen. So very distinctly out of

[latenightmoon]

She had hoped tonight would just be another terrible dream she'd wake up from and no one would see within it. After Rin and Allen had mentioned dreams were viewable here, that had been her hope. Because rattling around in her memories, and etched into her soul was the kind of horrors that would drive even the sanest person to a near heart attack of fear. She knows without looking down her hands are clenched so tightly her knuckles are white. Back in the dr things like this had left so many in suffering. To use her memories to strike fear into someone else...it made her angryWithin her was a war in all her horror, all her glory, and all the death that rained from the sky with heavy distant booms of bombs slamming into the ground and sending shrapnel for miles. In that dingy room within the inn, that had been the start. The place were the war took such a turn no one thought it would ever be washed away. It had begun to etch into their minds and souls in ways that they had to twist themselves to keep their sanity. Like their commander

[whitenighting]

It's both a blessing and a curse that---

No. It's a curse, but perhaps a needed one that Allen is never the sort to look away from something playing out in front of him. And he does, surprised for a moment when there's the younger Allison and then the one he's just met standing by him, also watching. A quick-look between them as that clicks, even with adrenalized nerves because that's just the natural reaction when everything around them is so real---so real because Allison is the dreamer even his eye reacts in ways his mind understands to from how hers understands it. Or how his understands it from how hers understands or---however it works.

It hurts. But it's that horrible kind of comforting pain that someone used to having it with them every step of the way is used to.

Slowly, he lets his hand drop, even if nodding a little at what she says, not wanting to at all he'd rather jump right into this with the others except the dream-realization, the intrusion in a memory, overrides with at least a bit of sanity. And while he doesn't

Open. Warning for gore and really squicky stuff.

[mother_shewolf]

OOC: Warning, this has an infant hurt badly, in detail.[This dream starts out like most of her dreams. She's hunting, knowing the feeling of her pack mates on all sides. She can't say what she's hunting, but she knows the familiarity of this