idream_ofmemes | TDM #1 - What Dreams May Come

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TDM #1 - What Dreams May Come

What Dreams May Come

Dream On

Welcome to the Dreamscape. A beautiful, endless dream where you and a bunch of other unique and interesting minds from across the multiverse have been gathered to connect, commiserate, and make the impossible... possible! There are many fantastical realms to explore and even more to come, and you are given your very own Nimbus Cloud to serve as your home. This puffy pink cloud will host a pocket dimension just for you where the only limit to what you can create is your own imagination. Missing personal items or locations from the waking world? No problem--- the only thing you have to do in order to earn feathers, the local currency, is make meaningful connections with others. In fact, making these meaningful connections seems to be the only task assigned to you by your mysterious host, the Outsider.

The only catch? You can't wake up until the Outsider wakes you. And it's not clear when that will be--- if ever.

Make your way in this ever-changing dream realm, find friends and allies to earn Feathers, and navigate strange and fantastical Dreamscape-wide events as you and your new neighbors try to unravel the mystery of what exactly the Outsider wants, and what it will take to escape the never-ending dream. The Outsider isn't just an NPC, either--- they're joining you on your adventures!

WHAT

The grand opening of Perchance to Dream!

WHEN

9/13/2022

QUICK NAV

Locations

Feather Info

The Outsider

I'm Only Sleeping

♫♪♩♬

When you go to sleep that night, it is like any other night. After a long day of living your life in the waking world, you dress down for the night, lie your weary head down, close your eyes, and begin to drift off, as you normally do. However, just as you are about to fall asleep, there is a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that something has changed.

But you drift off nonetheless.

When you rise, you find yourself still in the same bed you went to sleep in, but that bed has been… transported, somehow, to a broad and otherwise empty room. Your feet hit the black marble floor, but even if they are bare, they don’t feel cold. Around you are tall arches, beyond which is a rich, pink, sunset sky, and fluffy clouds drifting lazily by, sometimes close enough that parts of them intrude on the room.

On one side of the room, there is a door. Tall and austere, it looms overhead, bearing a carving of a strange blue eye. You feel awake, yet you know you are dreaming. Never in your life have you had a dream like this, so breathtakingly lucid. You feel foreign here, but welcome, like a guest. It’s an odd feeling, but perhaps it is familiar.

At the foot of your bed, there is a note on a small black slip of paper, written in lavender ink. It’s addressed to you by name.

“If you want answers, come find me at the Torn Oak. Otherwise, make yourself at home. Welcome to the Dreamscape.

-The Outsider”

The only way out is through the door. When you exit it, it slams behind you, and is gone if you turn around. You begin to get the sense that you’re going to be here for a while.

The Dreaming Tree

♫♪♩♬

The first area that you come into contact with is a sprawling field of stark white vegetation under a deep purple sky. At the base of the hill upon which you stand, you can see a tree that is particularly large, that seems to be standing perfectly upright despite being torn completely in half just above the stump. A blue wooden door with a silver handle stands in the gap between the body of the three and the stump below. It seems this place has an interesting penchant for disembodied doors. Still, this is probably the “Torn Oak” referenced in the note from the room before.

Should you go in, you’ll find before you a fantastical structure that looks almost like a shrine--- four shimmering crystal pillars, a glass chandelier, and a pedestal with a glowing sphere swirling with light. And beside that, there stands a strange figure. A person with periwinkle skin and a long, slender body, draped in a cloak with golden eyes that moved and blinked. On their head, a pair of horns and a golden halo, and a pointed tail flicked around their ankles. They had three eyes, one seated up on their brow, all of which were that strange, eerie blue that the one carved into that large black door had been.

“Hello there!” They greet you cheerfully. “I’ve been expecting you. I’m sure you have questions!”

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) 

♫♪♩♬

The Outsider, your host, is more than happy to explain the purpose of this place. You are in the Dreamscape, a special pocket of the collective unconscious of the entire omniverse, and they’ve plucked the dreaming minds of a hand-picked selection of people out of their own dreams, to be here in this mystical place. They cannot tell you why, exactly, but they want you to make meaningful emotional, mental, and physical connections with other dreamers, particularly those who you do not know, and they’re willing to reward you for doing so.

Perhaps you want to get started on collecting right away. The Outsider has kindly informed you that the best way to do this is to go and make some new friends. The likelihood that you’ll find another dreamer or two walking around the grassy knoll outside the Torn Oak or heading up or down the colossal escalator leading up into the sky itself is pretty high. Perhaps you’ll even find someone who wants to walk with you over to the Glass Lake, where the water’s surface can be walked on to get a better view of the Rainbow Koi. For some reason, no matter how many people go there or how inviting it seems, no one else besides you and the person or people you went with ever seems to be anywhere around, making it surprisingly private.

Sleepwalking

♫♪♩♬

If the immediate area doesn’t strike your fancy and you’re looking for some other options, you might consider heading to the Barren Freeway. The long stretch of paved road is oppressively isolating and terribly eerie, but it can lead to so many other places, be they strange, temporary locations from the corners of your mind that disappear when you leave, or the Twisted City itself.

Bustling and full of life, there is always something to do or see in the Twisted City. Restaurants, shops, night life, libraries, parks--- and it almost looks like a normal town, if you can ignore the bubbles in the sky, uncanny structures in the street, and the fact that nothing ever seems to stay in the same spot. Though if you get lost and need to get back to the Freeway, the Submarineway has a stop right by there. Maybe in the process of finding your way, you can find a friend.

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No.

[John does a lot of walking. It helps to clear his head, keep him grounded. It's meditative.

He also gets curious, more than he used to. So far, those he's met here are...good. They're safe, kind people, the type he didn't think existed anymore.

So, when he sees the blonde on the swing, he wanders over to watch her from afar, and gets spotted. He's not hiding, he doesn't have to, but his pulse still quickens briefly at being seen, singled out--

--hungry and tired and hollow with grief, the police cruiser pulling in front of him in threatening friendliness--

Walking closer, John continues to watch the newcomer too closely, too intently, but his expression is as soft as it is guarded. It turns more questioning after a moment as he tilts his head, considering the accent...]

...London?

[That is a man who has been in war in so long she wonders if he remembers what life is like outside of it. And she thought the Doctor when she first met him was war-weary. Damn.]

Yup! Powell Estate. Well. Whatever this dimension's proximity for it is, ne? [She gently nudges the swing next to her so he can pull up a seat with her if he wishes it.]

[John accepts the silent invitation, settling into the seat of the open swing beside her. He keeps his feet planted and his hands in his lap—ready to spring to his feet at a moment’s notice, but otherwise reasonably relaxed.]

I was pinned down once near the Chinese border in ’Nam with a couple of British soldiers.

[His voice is deep but soft—very quiet for a man that looks and behaves like the kind of soldier John Rambo is.]

One was from Liverpool, the other guy sounded like you. London…dunno if he was from the same…

[He tilts his head and squints at her a little, curious and questioning in its uncertainty, paired with a little smile.]

…estate?…

Dang that's rough. Are you all right? [Worried frown--]

[And then giggles.] Not quite. But not bad. [For an American! Lol.]

Oh, Estate is just... [She rolls a hand, trying to remember what the Americans call it.] Projects??? I think? After the London Blitz of World War 2, the Crown and yanno, government, wealthy, they rebuilt places like this, flats um -- [A face scrunch. Translating to American is somehow harder than talking to aliens??? Who knew?] Apartments, yeah? Cheap rent buildings. [She points to the tall building she called home. It wasn't. But it was close enough. She'd seen at least a dozen, probably more, versions of it now, and it was uncannily closer than some of the versions she HAD seen!]

[The reaction to his explanation…John’s surprised by it, thrown a little bit for a loop by the display of concern.

He’s saved from addressing it when she explains the whole ‘estate’ thing. She finishes by pointing out her building that exists in this particular corner of the Dreamscape, which he turns to take in for a moment before facing her again, most of the uncertainty in his expression gone.]

I see…in the US, estates are like mansions. Big, expensive…

[He fishes for a word, he knows that British kid used it when he was talking about schools…]

…uhh…posh. Yeah. Posh.

[Such a beam and a laugh, as she swings her feet underneath the swing.] Yup! That's the word. Well, yeah it's called that because... [Dododo Propaganda.] It was the nobles gifting it to the public-- [A face scrunch!] I guess!

[She offers a handshake.] I'm Rose, by the way. Rose Tyler.

[Man, that’s a hell of a smile. She’d make a fortune if she could bottle it and sell it—John can’t help but smile back a little as he accepts her handshake. His grip is calloused, strong, and measured.]

John Rambo—pleasure to meet you, Miss Tyler.

You too, John! [He really reminds her of the Doctor when they first met, minus the Doctor's... mean streak? No that's unfair. Antisocial behavior. Yeah that!]

It's good to take a break from everything, yeah?

[John nods slightly, gaze wandering around. His expression is a little less guarded now, smoothing out a little as he seems to be drinking in his surroundings.]

Not sure a real break exists. You let your guard down...that's when things tend to happen.

[Clearly not good things, being the implication.]

[Yeah... THERE'S the Doctor. PTSD, shell shocked, seeing the world burn.]

[.... Wait, is she going to end up having that face soon too?]

[She stills her swing and offers him a hand.] Nah. It's the only way to keep going. You see the world end over and over, and -- [Was she doing wrong with taking a break? Nah!] You gotta build something up in your heart so that you remember what you're protecting. What you're still doing. What you're looking for.

Take a break. Remember what it is to have fun. Eat chips.

It's been a long time since I ate chips. [She had crackers with one of the Jackies when the world ended in snow.]

Oh! Or swings. Swings is good.

[For a second, John looks at her hand like he’s never seen one before—and he hasn’t, not like this. Not in a very long time. His arrest is a little fuzzy in his memory, but he thinks he remembers Colonel Trautman holding out his hand, putting one on his back as he wept…

Reaching out, he takes her hand, and just…holds. It’s not a handshake, brief and firm and warm. It’s just holding on, and the longer it goes on the warmer it feels. Her fingers are slim, soft, strong. Her hand feels fragile in his bigger one.

Why, then, does he suddenly feel a little like he’s the one that might shatter?

She’s talking. He’s listening, he hears her, but he can’t seem to push his senses back out where they belong. They’re all focused on the hand holding his, not hurting or steering or restraining or offering a perfunctory greeting but just holding.]

I, uh…I don’t know. About…about…swinging…

[Soft gentle grin, and her tongue peeks through her teeth.] Never much of a swinger in your youth?

[There’s that smile again. He swears he can feel the warmth of it, radiating towards him—making the overwhelming heat and gentle pressure of their joined hands just a little less intense.

It makes it easier to stay rather than fight the urge to take his hand back. To sit in the pleasant strangeness rather than want to run from it.

Her so-soft challenge makes him huff out a laugh, shrugging slightly, almost shy.]

I, uh…I might’ve tried to send myself…

[He glances up and points vaguely to the top bar of the swing set.]

…y’know…send myself over the top a few times when I was little.

[All the giggles!] I can see that. Micks and I used to have a game to see who could jump the furthest. 'Til he nearly broke his legs, skinned it something terrible, and then I had to bring him to his Gran and she nearly whooped us both for it, for tearing the knee in his pants, and then we had to stop trying that.

[The laughter is nice—he hasn’t had that in a long time, not since the war. It makes his smile grow, soothes the sweet strangeness further.]

Mick’s a friend?

Yeah. He lived on the Estates, same as me. We grew up together. A few years older than me, but a total crybaby. 'Til he grew up, literally when I wasn't looking. [Because she wasn't there at the time.] Now he's a secret agent, super soldier.

Mickey Smith.

But he'll always be the crybaby that skinned his knee and still didn't even land that far away to me.

[Something in him wants to grieve at that--seeing the expression on her face as she talks about her friend, knowing he became a soldier.

He knows what's lost when that happens. Not everyone has seen what he's seen, but...

John just gives her hand a squeeze, his expression a little more open, softer and warmer.]

I hope he is--he sounds like a good man, like a good friend.

[Aw that sadness. She wonders if that's the difference in the end. She's never had to kill. For all the death she's seen...]

[She gives a tight grin back!] He is. He's on the other side -- um not death I mean, back at my home base. With my parents, making sure when I get done my missions everything's stable. Sometimes I think "I should really feel a bit guilty about all this." Because if it weren't for me, he wouldn't be in the thick of it. Bit like his skinned knees. But I've seen how he is without me too, and I guess.. [She shrugs and squeezes John's hand right back!] That makes me think, nah he's better off with my help.

[Rose is strange, but it’s a good thing. She talks like she’s seen action, but so little blood clings to her. She understands…but she’s not ruined by it.

It’s not a conscious thing, deciding that he will do anything to keep that from happening.]

Soldier’s code. You watch my back, I watch yours.

[The way his gaze fixes on her…yeah, Rose, you may have been very aggressively adopted, because he’s also talking about you. He’s watching your back now.]

[Yay! She needs about 20 soldier types to try to keep her safe, but she's a little surprised, it's somehow even more intense than Jack. Now where's the difference in that? Maybe just honesty. Jack always tried to be ever the smooth talking charmer, John was a lot more honest and direct. Like the best part of the Doctor, but human enough to do that with himself.]

I'll definitely have your back. [Soft smile, because she would for everyone and anyone. That's what made her job so hard, but in some ways, so doable.] But-- [A face scrunch and she goes coy and cute!] I'm not an official soldier or anything. Not even a combat medic. So dunno how useful I'll be. [Well, she faced down the devil himself with nothing but a nailgun, and she knew more than most about the end of the world, so not completely useless!] I'm basically on the diplomacy side. Talk and distract, and maybe negotiate, until the real firepower shows up, yeah? Not even a real scout. [Because there was no returning to places that went dark, they were gone. But she's kind of a scout. Kind of?]

[Anyway John's hand gets another reassuring squeeze!]

Yeah, you are.

[Because if fighting and coming home has taught him anything, it's that not all soldiers are drafted, commissioned, or ever pick up a gun. Medics are a perfect example, and he smiles at the fact that she brought that up. Goes even more to his point.]

Soldiers fight. We can't help it. We fight, we survive...we win, if they let us.

[He tilts his head again, still smiling.]

And if they won't let us win? I got you to talk 'em into it.

[All the laughs.] Okay, but I have literally never once succeeded. [YUP.]

[Actually... Did she with Jack? Sort of??? Not really. So... nope.]

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TDM #1 - What Dreams May Come

Sleepwalking

YAY XD I almost threw Rose at him too

GREAT MINDS. XD

Yes!

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