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Isle of Mist Campaign Dream Vision

posted Feb 26, 2014, 4:39 PM by Christopher Ellison
This is a dream sequence I wrote up for a player character in a D&D campaign I'm currently running.  The dream refers to some past visions and some past encounters within the campaign.  Without that context, I'll admit it doesn't fully make sense, but I wanted to post it here as a sample of my approach to fiction writing that I can refer to again later.

Aida's Dream
Hallvar, in the dharven lands
The night after the second meeting by the waterfall with Rido.

As you're drifting off to sleep, you feel a shiver run down your spine.  Immediately, you find yourself out of your body, spinning slowly on a mountain peak.  The night is clear and the moon is bright; you can see clearly down the slope to a clearing on the next peak over.  Dull embers glow an angry red, illuminating a handful of tents clustered close together.

You begin to slowly float toward the campsite, and suddenly you're standing in the shadows near the campfire.  A dark shape stands next to you, staring out into the oppressive ring of inky blackness.  You turn to see a familiar-looking dark-skinned warrior-woman, her face resolute but masking a distinct shadow of fear.  Her eyes dart from tree to tree.  You drift slowly closer and realize you can hear her heart pounding and sense her exhaustion and paranoia.

Suddenly you're inside her, looking out through her eyes.  You can feel eyes watching you/her from the darkness.  Your/her heart is racing with adrenaline.  You/she fight back waves of regret and grief, and the part of you that is still you senses that she feels acutely responsible for some great loss.  She's pushing herself to the limits of her capabilities and beyond just to stay awake and upright, determined to prevent another such loss on her watch.  You/she are dimly aware of a warm, sticky sensation on your/her left hand.  The dim phantasm of your mind recognizes it as the feeling of blood on her left hand where she's been digging her fingernails into her palm.

Your/her adrenaline, running low but still pumping, spikes sharply as you/she hears a terrifying screech far in the distance.  A moment later, the ground rumbles with faraway thunder.  You/she tenses your/her grip on your/her shield and whips your/her sword from its scabbard without thinking, turning to face this new potential threat.  A yell catches in your/her throat and dies as a great raptor, easily the size of a house and sheathed in lightning, rises into the sky, miles away yet clearly visible.  The thunderbolt-sheathed falcon must be unimaginably large.

With no warning, you're flung from the mind of the warrior-woman.  You find yourself once again floating, disembodied, beside her in the dark.  Though your link with her mind rapidly dims, her sense of relief is palpable.  You turn to face her and see that her face is torn between smiling and tears as she gazes upon this tremendous creature soaring above the next ridgeline.  Your vision begins to fade as you see her sink to her knees and hear her muttering under her breath.  As you fade back to dreamless sleep, you realize her words are a prayer of thanks for the brief respite she has been granted and realize that this falcon is an omen to her telling her that, at least for this night, she need not fear the cruelty of the world.