#wardream

Second one is a screenshot because I didn't realise how small it was XD . But these are sprite styles for the game ( I think Imma go with the second one just because I can get more emotions out of it.)

Strange passage between one dream state to the next last night, I wake up feeling unrested, unnerved and there is something between my eyes, keeping them half closed no matter how much I try and open them. 

First was a dream of my lack of some kind of confidence; I believe I was staying at Huw’s, which was a country estate somewhere in the UK. Everybody was taking over rooms that clearly belonged to his parents.  As I asked a man to help me with a film project, something experimental, I liked him and we got along, but I was beating around the bush a bit, not wanting to commit, not wanting to get too deep into it, I found it all very scary so my friends and I were getting high trying to talk about this project, playing video games in a back room on the second floor overlooking the fields. 

Huw walks in, sort of confrontational self-righteous vibe about him. He looks at us in various states of debilitation, weed smoke filling the room, and asks half seriously if this is how I usually go about doing things? Do I need a somebody to come in and motivate us to do a better job? He was basically being passive aggressive, and questioning my leadership abilities in front of my teammates, which triggered me and I jumped up. ‘You’re not even paying me!’ 

‘Well then I’m going to ask for rent three days earlier from now on’, he says, smugly, and I forget that I’ve been crashing at his parents house. ‘See?’ I tell my friends. I get up to go towards him, and have some kind of altercation. He’s weak and when I try and get him out of my way he seems hurt, and leaves injured. I suddenly feel a weird but familiar combination of guilt and indignation together, like I have been stiffed and also did something bad I will need to answer to. 

Then he’s on a beach, and a weird wooden pathway through foliage at night (a familiar place/theme/architecture element of many dreams recently seems to be this wooden walkway, and dense foliage, although always in different settings.) I see him buddy-buddy with his friends out on the beach in the dark, and I take off the other direction, not wanting to talk with him among his crew, nor anybody he knows. I spirit back to the house. 

There I choose a new room to stay in, embarrassed I guess that I let my teammates down and can’t perform the way I need to. An element that rings true to life - my fear and loss of confidence over these past years creatively. Harold decides to take slumber in the room I just chose, and I leave, angrily again downstairs where there is a kind of nice upper-crust function with bay windows overlooking what looks like the Algarve, but we are in Italy. Lots of tapas plates (which is clearly Spanish, perhaps something about my warring decision to move to either Spain or Portugal? And having seen Giani recently?), people dressed nicely, sparkles from the outside light penetrate the darkened, blue/purple on white modern designed interior. And I look out and see what I at first think is a meteor shower- hundreds of white ‘meteors’ shooting down towards the earth at an angle.

I corral some people to look at the meteor shower, before I realize there is danger. These meteors are hitting earth, and blowing holes in the grass and sand, debris flying, and people are screaming outside. The relative safety of the dark interior is short-lived as I see giant torpedoes being shot from large warships on the water past the grass and beach, and I realize we are under attack - perhaps by Iran, but it’s hard for me to tell, and it’s too chaotic to try and understand exactly what was going on, except that we had to retreat, and retreat fast or we were going to die. The torpedoes are white, look like large bullets and arrive in slow motion, speeding up and smiling at the last moments before destruction hits. 

We run further indoors, away from the bay windows, shelling and splintering wood cracks and explodes around me,  I feel the tactile impact of being hit by debris during an attack, and fall to the oak floors, when a friend tries to stuff me into a hole in the floor, saying I’d be safe there. Somehow I fit, but feel insecure, so I depart, leaving everybody to fend for themselves indoors, as I make my way across the house to the back, where I see over a crusted field surrounded by cliffs- and the other coast of Italy in the distance. 

In many dreams I notice time and space collapse, and I can traverse long distances with relative ease. So I somehow trek across this field, and make it to the opposing side of the country, the opposing shore. I am fearful of warships, but scan the horizon and see none, only people on the beach, unaware and quiet. I approach them, and warn them, one by one, of the attack on the other coast, telling them to check their phones for news. Most people are so caught up in their little lazy lives they don’t react as quickly as I’d like them to. Some are already on their phones, ignoring the beautiful view. And then, when pressed, people’s phones take too long to load, so everybody on this coast remains ignorant for the rest of my dream while I remain in a state of sheer panic.