(Untitled)

[tln_theshifter]

WHO: OPEN, multiple threads encouraged; The Shifter & you..
WHERE: Your dreams
WHEN: The nights of the 19th & 20th, or maybe during the day, if you happen to nap.
WHAT: The nightmares are becoming more real. You're beginning to wonder if maybe there's something to this.
WARNINGS: Violence, disturbing images.

NOTE: Joining this log means entering

Comments

Anything goes~

[family_remains]

[tln_theshifter]

It sets into Sam's mind that something doesn't make sense. The room looks inconspicuous enough with light wood floors and off-white walls. Perhaps it is the lack of doors or windows, perhaps it's the way light seems to be coming from nowhere at all. Nothing calls out as being particularly nefarious.

But then, the ceiling is black, isn't it? The kind of black where darkness lurks. A clean line of shadows, four feet above his head, just out of reach.

A glimmer of light. Sam is held in awe for a moment, excitement building because he knows the indication may be that of an escape from this prison, oblivious as he is to its nature. Then the light is coming closer. Something about it seems unnatural.

[family_remains]

He stands still, watching the light with a mix of unease and rapt curiosity. Unnatural or not, he wants to know what it is.

Something in his gut tells him that, yes, this weird, and no, it's probably not the good kind. But he doesn't seem concerned enough to move. And besides, where would he go?

He glances around for a split second, tearing his gaze away from the light to see if anything is around him, but he isn't sure. And that light is just getting brighter and brighter.

[tln_theshifter]

A door appears as he glances around again, a mundane wooden door in the wall to his left. The light glows closer and Sam gets the feeling he has to choose whether to discover the source of the light or to escape from this place.

GO FOR IT BB

[mulletrockking]

[tln_theshifter]

The dining room is familiar from some time ago, too vague a memory to recall in the haze Dean's mind is presently contained in. It strikes fear deep in his heart and he hates that he can't recall why he should be afraid. Sam isn't here. No one is. There's an eerie calm-- no, silence. The kind of silence that doesn't come naturally. Dean turns toward the window, but his attention is pulled away.

A clawing at the door, growling and howls. Dean still can't remember why he should be afraid, but he knows it's wrong. He knows he should be trying to escape. The sound builds and he begins looking for a weapon. Just as the creature beyond should be bursting in, he takes hold of a chair to fight it...

He's on a path. What should be dirt is black and gray and too dense, maybe ash. He's warm, the dim glow around him being cast by flames. This isn't Hell, this isn't home. There still seems to be no one near. Dean doesn't care about the flames, knowing walking through and amongst them will do nothing to harm him.

[mulletrockking]

And whether they'll harm him or not, it doesn't make it any less unsettling. Part of him wants to stay there, because going forward can't be the smartest of ideas, and this place...It's not somewhere he knows.

But a dream is a dream, and unless it's the lucid kind, there's usually no way to stop what's coming, which is why he puts one foot in front of the other, step after step, moving onward down the path. And as he walks along, he glances around himself, peering through the flames to decipher where the hell he is. It's not Hell, no, but it's close enough to see sparks, he supposes, and brilliant and uncomfortable memories surface before he shoves them back down, still maintaining a steady gait, despite the ash (well, he guesses it's ash) everywhere, and the soft hiss of flames.

One thing he does figure, however, is that any path that looks like this can't be to the land of lollipops and candy mountain.

[tln_theshifter]

Dean comes to an almost comical fork in the road. Neither option is immediately before him, but he knows what lies at the end of each as one can in the land of dreams. Sam waits in a dingy hotel room to his left, the Impala parked outside, his dad's journal on the coffee table. To the right, it's his mom. John is with her and they're happy together, Dean returned to childhood. Perfection in some way.

But Dean hasn't chosen. He's still at that fork in the road.

A nap and Cas' first dream EVER

[doubtheaven]

[tln_theshifter]

The noise of the horn cuts across whatever dreary emptiness might have existed before, drawing Castiel into the kind of consciousness that exists in a dream. Water smacks at his face and he struggles to understand his surroundings faster, not understanding why he would be laying in the rain.

Then he's standing on the small boat, casting his gaze about the seemingly endless water around him. The vessel is empty of oars, food, clothing, or any other item aside from a net made of simple, thick, braided rope. The sky is gray, despite no recognition of clouds, sun, or any other semblance of normal weather.

Glad I saw Inception yesterday... lol

[doubtheaven]

An angel had no need to sleep. The feeling of being tired as a body’s need to rest and recuperate wasn’t something Castiel was used to. On top of that, dreaming was just plain out of left field for him. Sure, he had been inside the dreams of others before, but those were not his dreams. Not his creations. What do angels dream about

Haha. Great film, no?

[tln_theshifter]

Castiel casts the net into the water and immediately finds it has caught on something. He leans closer to inspect it for a moment.

The sky is black and rumbles, though he knows there is no need to fear lightning. Perhaps it is raining again. When he lifts up one hand, the other still holding the net in place, he finds the "rain" is flakes of ash. The sky is weeping death.

pretty standard

[duke_of_albany]

OOC: Leopold is most afraid of failure, I guess. He thinks his life has been pretty much useless up to this point, and it would kill him to think that he died without having made any mark on the world. His Uncle Millard is also a pretty terrifying old man, since he spent a lot of time belittling everything Leopold did. So yeah, failure, death, and his uncle.

[tln_theshifter]

Leopold is walking down the street toward the bridge which is only just being erected, returned to his own time and memories. Nothing seems out of ordinary and he has no recollection of the manor here. A man calls out in panic from the streets.

Words are never heard in dreams, but merely understood. Death, a terrible accident. Help, please. Come to the bridge.

There exists an air of darkness despite suitable light, of pressure despite perfect weather. Of course Leopold can walk away, the man speaks not to him directly.

[duke_of_albany]

Familiar surroundings should bring relief and a sense of peace, but Leopold feels strangely weighed down. He takes a mental inventory and finds no cares but the usual ones until the shout echoes in his mind. He whirls but cannot tell immediately who the panicked cry belonged to. He quickens his pace in the direction he was already going, until the towering foundations of the Brooklyn Bridge are visible.

He finds himself breathing harder than the pace warrants as an irrational sense of panic makes his heart race. He wonders what has happened and then why he should have cause for fear over it. No one he knows can possibly have been involved.

[tln_theshifter]

The elevator, he hears the cry. He's dead, comes another.

A crowd gathers near the towering structure, once glowing with magnificent achievement and now darkened by tragedy. As Leopold makes his way forward to understand what is happening, the crowd begins to recognize him. He realizes too late that it was his own invention that is being called responsible for the death of the respected lad before him. The boy's mother weeps over his corpse.

Suddenly people began to turn. A tension is building, a fury. They need someone to blame for this. Some begin pointing, others whispering. A group of four men begin slowly closing in.

HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT

[longagotomorrow]

[tln_theshifter]

Strange. The Doctor was just behind her a moment before. Amy glances around the field, empty and blanketed in the kind of fog she views as creepy in a comedic way, rather than genuinely worrisome. The TARDIS is only ten feet away or so, the door closed. Where they are, how they got there.. it's not even a thought, a concern.

The Doctor's voice sounds behind her as an echo reminiscent of her name, but no one is there when she turns.

[longagotomorrow]

Amy whirled around, trying to pinpoint where the Doctor's voice was coming from. Just like him to run off and leave her in the middle of a foggy field.

"Doctor?" she called, exasperated. "Doctor, where'd you go?"

[tln_theshifter]

The TARDIS is gone.

The Doctor's voice calls her farther away from where the blue box just was. Deep within the shadow, a shadow emerges. There's something off about it, though. Maybe the height, maybe way it carries itself. It doesn't seem to be moving, but lingering there just out of discernible distance. Waiting for Amelia Pond to investigate.