The Right Handed Writer

[Hiuknowme]

My dreams, the tiny things I just want to point out, and identification of social paradoxes. All the dreams, I actually dreamt, all the thoughts, I actually think, and no I don't want to hear about my grammar.
Some of it may suck, actually most of it, and it won't string together properly or make sense, but it's vivid. So don't expect anything of importance here. Actually, go over HERE here and play with that instead! ^__^

---------- Post added at 05:13 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:12 PM ----------

Please Note- Content may be inappropriate for younger viewers. Contains violence and gore. In addition, time skips happened in the dream, I am not shortening my dreams at all.

"I wake in a wagon, covered on all sides by metal. Light comes from an open door. Perspective is from the door. I am there, waking and crouched on the floor. The floor is littered in hay and dirt, reminiscent of the floor of an abandoned barn or stable. I can feel the layer of grime all over my body. There is a chain around my ankle, probably hooked to the floor, but i don't take the time to investigate. On either side of my pitiful prison is a long bench lining the length of this cart. To my left, to nearer to the door of my moving prison is a man. I feel the stirs of recognition and vengeance stir within my gut. He's talking to me, but I am not listening. I am in a bubble of silence, and the noise coming from his mouth are muffled, like through water without the bubbles, or through on the other side of a very thick wall.

"My subconscious time skips to a jail. I whisper something in the guards ear, and the feeling of giddiness and power take over. The guards flee, and somehow my gate becomes open. I skip out of it cheerily, and head somewhere else.

"Time skips once again. I am on a hillside, above some kind of courtyard. It reminds me of a golf field without the hills. It's pretty flat, and the grass is trimmed to uniform shape and precision. Croquet maybe? That feels about right. The queen, king, and a lot of nobility are on this yard, talking merrily. Suddenly, I am being captured. I have a sense of failure, looking at the arrows stuck in the king's miniature house. You know those houses that arabians carried their princes on? Just like that. It was red and covered in silk, except the opening where the king's face and chest was exposed. Three arrows were stuck into the the left side, one in the right, and one on the ground in front of him. I think I shot him, but I'm not sure. Guards drag me away roughly, but I hardly notice. The king has disappeared, and with it, my prey.

"Small Time Skip again. I am lying down on the courtyard now. Nobility is gawking at me, but they stop soon enough. I turn to my left and am surprised to see a girl lying down in the kings little house, my accomplice. She was supposed to be doing something else, so I am surprised to see her caught. She is young, with her black hair pulled back from her face in a neat crown upon her head. Her eyes are light blue, and her dress a nicer that peasant but less nice than noble dress. It was grey and light blue and white. The light blue on her dress matched her eyes. The man who was in my jail wagon before is standing in front of her, talking to her. Scolding? I whisper her name "Catsa!" no response. "Catsa!" Again, no response. I whisper louder, getting frustrated. "Catsa!" She looks past him to me this times, and partially exclames in surprise. The man turns to look at me, but she taps his shoulder and grabs his attention again. She talks animatedly. Again with the soundless bubble, I can-hear nothing. I sneak behind him slowly, tip-toeing. She glances at me a couple of times, and he is slightly distracted by that, but he listens to her. Quickly, I reach forward and grab the arrow from where it was stuck in the ground, and try to drive it into his throat. I am standing behind him, pulling my arm towards myself and at the same time towards his neck. He anticipated my move and reached up to catch my hand just in time to prevent his death. For two or three seconds, we are locked together, neither of us giving ground. Finally, not getting anywhere, we yank free of each other, surprisingly in tune. He yanks the arrow from my grasp, but I held on so tightly, the arrowhead came off in my hand. He didn't realize that I still had a weapon, and that was his demise. The arrowhead dug deep into the left side of his throat, and cut across at least a centimeter deep. The most intense detail in the dream is as follows- the gush of warm and wet blood covering my hand. My out of dream self shivers, while my in dream self feels the throb of victory. He falls to the floor."

I wake, and a moment later, my alarm clock goes off. 6 o 'clock a.m.