The mech walkers were kind of fun. Difficult, but rare enough to get excited over.
What if there’s no better word than just not saying anything?@seer: don't worry, I'm sure you dream just as lovecraftian as I do at times, you just might not remember them
I mean haha yes I have out-cosmic horrored even you
@space: hold on, I wrote the post-dream summary on my ipod so I'll have to type it up on a computer
@Olive: I see, I see. Does it have a name?
It does indeed.
Ikikiwikan.
Is the temporary not in-language name for it.
Ikikiwik just refers to in-language as "Of Persons Travel" literally, or alternatively read as- "Of Persons Alive."
Since Travelling and Living are synonymous.
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this postI see. It sounds interesting. Are you just doing this out of your own interest or is this for something else?
I kind of want to take a look at a few sentences and see if I can work out the grammar.
@Space: Very much worth noting here is that the sigil was in the shape of an eye. A sigil of blood. The Red Eye.
Also the blood sigil guy was probably my favourite scene and he was unlike the other heroes in that he and his noble liege were primarily self-serving/perhaps evil in a sense.
Skeleton Dream
I was in a land where there was some sort of zombie apocalypse. It wasn't a neat one either, these were stronger than your standard Romero zombies. I was amongst the legends of old, from each of the world's lands. (At first they did not take the threat seriously, barring a few. They were just zombies.) [Uncertain about this]. (I feel as if Ebisu was one)They had different aims, and some wanted their nation/master to profit from this. Most of the story took place around the train station. This station was a crossways of the path of many different lands and nations, soot was very important. The zombies had arisen before, but been defeated in one fell swoop by (King Arthur) [?]. However, he was now a nameless hero I had spoken to, replaced by another version of himself that was shaped by different stories. He could not do it again.
I believe I was one of these heroes, although who I couldn't say. Sometimes the undead would draw close, and we would have to fight them off. I had some sort of rival, who leapt from train to train as I had once (possible prior dream continuity, also possibly I was the ancient Arthur at this point) and afterward he behaved strangely, as if he were to have "matched" me, or taken my place in the eyes of others, although I would not have cared if he had not said this.
There was a woman. I do not recall if she was one of the legends, some noble or a "civilian", but she was definitely significant. She spoke with me prior to an attack. I do not remember what she said, but I remember she wore a red cloak and had a grandfather. He died in one of the attacks. She mourned, placing a medallion that represented him on his body, which was then burned. The metal warped and vanished as this was so. Perhaps there were multiple victims in this way, as there certainly were multiple medallions/carved metal in the shape of delicate man. (Perhaps the winged Philemon was the shape of one of these medallions? No, it was a profile like the grandfather, and it was turned side on, and hunched. Or perhaps that was the other medallion. But they were both in profile). The old man who died had a beard many hands long, reaching toward his navel, and was clothed in a strange robe, primarily red, with green or blue trimmings. It was perhaps like that of a Chinese emperor. It was perhaps like that of the winged Philemon. He was far from the only dead.
I remember that in this attack, and in others, they would come from the trains, as those within were either "turned" or simply overcome by the undead that had slipped on board. Skeletons the colour of blood. Hence the train-leaping I guess.
At this attack, things had got a lot worse. There was a man, perhaps one of the legends, perhaps simply a court magician, who was impeccably dressed and behaved likewise, as some sort of servant. His noble liege was trembling as a crimson skeleton stumbled closer, but he took the man in his arms and disappeared in a sigil of blood as he teleported back to the safety of the man's castle in his own land. He arose in a blood-sigil there as well, rising out of blood as he as sunk into it, looked up toward my view at what I knew to be the throne. He began to give his report, but as soon as he looked up, he stopped with a simple "Ah" and teleported away, sinking into the blood once more. At this point then, it became apparent why, as a stained yellow torso of a skeleton pulled its way in, intruding "on-frame", holding a sword. A true number closed in on where the sigil was afterward. One missed him only narrowly. There were skeletons in the rafters (torso man), a smattering of skeletons on the floor, and skeletons atop the crumbling throne. At some point the noble must have been placed elsewhere, or perhaps my mind merely forgot him, as when the servant gave his report, he was nowhere to be seen in his kneeling posture (I can recall easily enough what he would have looked like if he was though, so maybe he was?). The sigil was like that of an eye in some way, I shall draw it before I forget it.
We met on the far side of the station. Although it was agreed that the legend of old would not be able to destroy the hordes as he had before, as he believed it a one-time only thing. He did not reveal his identity to the others. Of course it was shred that something must be done, so we all (I think there must have been from twelve to twenty of us, although that could be a mistaken projection from later. Certainly there was no great number, and I do not recall the sigil-man amongst us) moved along the train tracks (moving "down", away from the station and civilisation) under a grey sky. The vegetation was dull and struggled to survive, the mood was grey as the sky above us. We came to a building of a sort, and it was this we entered. It was a rectangular prism that jutted out of the ground, corrugated iron that was rusting in places. It had no windows, and as we entered, one left the door ajar slightly. However, Arthur of Old closed it, saying he did not like surprises, clearly referring to the skeleton hordes that could come across this place. It seemed longer on the inside than it had on the outside, but it was no wider or taller (as we dug, we had little room behind our feet, but we had no trouble lining up to dig). We were told we had to start digging, piling dirt on the far side of the building, other side to the train tracks. We also apparently had to work against a deadline that was somewhat pressing, I suppose it to be the zombies approach beyond which it would be too late. We worked, but it became clear some were not pulling their weight, taking frequent breaks or working too slowly, as they were unused to working alongside legends from other lands. Arthur of Old cajoled them, at first playing on this patriotism/xenopobia "come on, you are digging slower than the French hero do you truly want that?" Eventually however, I think it was he, he made a speech pointing out that this was our last hope and for today we have to work our asses off no matter what, no matter who we are digging beside. By the way, even the slowest of us could dig at a progifius (prodigious), superhuman rate, though we dug with our hands. From this point it became as a montage. Perhaps the appeal to rivalry was actually here, and more good-natured. There were other amusing/engaging things in the montage though I do not remember them all. New Arthur (Arturia) refusing to stop even at a scheduled break. A fat man who was a legend racing another at who could dig faster. So we dug and searched, although we did not know what we were searching for. All the while, the deadline drew nearer.
This dream did not have a satisfactory ending as it segued into another dream where I got so angry I didn't get to see a good conclusion that I woke up. Basically it became as if I was reading the story on the internet and they found the thing and it was some stupid anime bullshit and not the good kind of stupid anime bullshit.
edited 11th Aug '15 5:45:04 PM by ThanatoSeraph
I haven't gotten to grammar yet, I'm still working on the lexicon.
And it is for personal hobby/future book-writing hopefully.
This is also semi-related to the FG.
Because one of my characters that I used once- comes from Ikikiwik culture.
Jrik-ik.
Who I realize when thinking about names-
Was always pronouncing Julie as Jewlee.
1.5 imperial gallons of tea were consumed during the writing of this post

oh
dead devotion