3rdragon

The night before last, I dreamed that my mother (who may or may not have actually been my mother) and I were very small. We were considered household fairies by a family who lived in a place similar to Nepal (so they fed us and took care of us, and we supposedly brought them luck. While I liked the being fed and taken care of bit, I'm not so sure about the last bit). The family was fleeing some sort of war or civil disturbance, and heading up into the mountains like the other local people with any sense. At this point, a bit of dream-time was spent on the fact that the girl of the family was not going to marry the boy she was betrothed to, and somehow the arrangement had been broken off with no hard feelings on either side (the ease of this may have had to do with the whole war-and-fleeing-for-our-lives bit).
Stuff happened. At some point in the dream, the point of view shifted, and I was no longer a very small person considered to be a household fairy. I'm not sure if this is because I became a different person, or if I grew somehow. I may have become the daughter of the family, or merged with her somehow.
The next bit I remember is getting poisoned. This had something to do with nasty weapons or nasty magic that was being used in the war. I was very close to death, but a wise-woman/herb-mother/something of the sort was found to patch me back up again. Shortly after this, I got turned to stone. I don't remember why. It may have had to do with the war, or maybe I got on the wrong side of someone's household fairies. This time the elves brought me back (I don't remember why).
After that I went to the PRESHCO office (which, for some reason, was in the mountains of a Nepal-like place, I guess - and, for the record, did not look like the PRESHCO office), and hung out for a bit. Rodrigo showed up, and we were talking, and in a very conversational tone I explained to him that I was two people now (as a result of my adventures. I'm not sure when this happened - possibly with the merging from household fairy to normal person). I should perhaps mention that Rodrigo is one of the PRESHCO people?

After that, I dreamed that I was driving a minivan full of stuff - and my brother - to a vacation sort-of place. We had been there before, but didn't actually know where it was - it was one of those trips where you drive for a long while and eventually get there, but each time you have to make the trip you start freaking out that you don't know how to go . . . Anyway. We passed some tables with umbrellas that looked a bit familiar, and then I came to a choice that looked unfamiliar. I turned right. Even as I was doing it, I had the impression that this had been the wrong choice - left seemed to be more of a piece with our road. And I immediately realized that this road, while it had looked major-ish from the main road, led merely to a sort of suburbia - and furthermore, there was yellow tape across the road about 50 feet down. I slammed on the brakes, which turned out to be really bad, but I managed to sort of wrunch forward and push them down more and stop with the front of the minivan bulging into the yellow tape. There was a wide-ish driveway next to us, so I backed up a bit and started to turn around in the driveway. But the minivan seemed to be handling really terribly - aside from the brakes, it steered like a boat, and it kind of wobbled in a way that was very disconcerting. I told Isaac to get out and direct (did I mention that I had no backwards visibility because of stuff in the back?) and moved the seat forwards to be in the best position to deal with the brakes. As Isaac was getting into position, I decided that after I turned around I needed to stop and look at a map/the mapquest directions. What I really needed was a navigator, but I knew that Isaac would get a headache if he tried to read in the car.
At which point I woke up, feeling far too warm. It's been a bit cold at night, so we added blankets to my bed two nights ago - only, "blankets" seems to mean a comforter. At any rate, I wrote down notes on these two dreams.

I had another dream that night, but all I remember is that it took place in a tower, and that I and a friend (who may have been Ana, my housemate) had decided to go for a walk.
I don't think that it was terribly interesting, anyway.

And then last night - last night I had a Doctor Who dream.
I think that I was Sarah Jane Smith. I'm not entirely sure about this, but it was definitely fourth doctor. I don't remember the beginning of the dream particularly well, but I had hurt my hand somehow, and we were in an 80's spaceship. You know the style of decoration that I mean. And while it didn't look campy, it was also very clearly born of 80's sci-fi. Well, I suppose that fashions change even in the future. The first bit that really begins to come clear was a sort of wide-angle shot of the troops who ran the spaceship. They had taken a prisoner (me), and a robot or machine was carrying a large net that contained me and some big rocks. The commanders were talking to each other.
The woman said, "Are you sure that it's a good idea to carry her like that?"
To which the man replied, "My golden air has her paralyzed, and it's the only way to avoid further damage to the broken left hand. Besides, would you prefer to carry her yourself?"
Sure enough, there did seem to be a bit of an odd golden glow about me. At this point we cut to the doctor. He was trying to open a double slidey-door. I think that he was doing this by mucking with the wiring, rather than using the sonic screwdriver, but I'm not entirely sure because the viewpoint was from the other side of the door in question. Which meant that I would hear a switch flicking, and the door would open, to an "Aha!" from the doctor - but shut again immediately. Repeat. Then some more fiddling, and the doors opened again, but before the doctor could step through, the two door panels began doing a rapid unsynchronized opening and closing - so that there appeared to be a gap moving quickly from left to right. We had seen this fault earlier in the dream, but the doors hadn't been moving so quickly, so that it was easier to get through them. "Ah, said the doctor, it's a matter of timing." And he stood before the door for a moment, tracking the motion, and then stepped through (I think the scarf must have been well-draped, because it didn't get caught in the door). The next door was doing the same thing . . . I think that I watched him for about three doors before going back to myself/SJS. This time I was properly first-person. We'd lost the rock-hauling robots somewhere, and I was un-golden-aired. Someone rushed in through one of the doors, completely freaking out; it seemed that some of the troops had been taken over by a something-or-other and were chasing us through the halls shooting at us (this had happened before, but now it was happening to a much greater extent). At this point they gave up on keeping me prisoner in favor of keeping people alive. And then the door opened again - and behind it were three or four mind-controlled people - the female commander yelled for noncombatants to get around the corner, and started giving battle orders. The male commander rushed in with the first line and got shot down pretty quickly. I originally rushed around the corner, but that merely led to a dead-end room. The guns seemed to be of the glow-and-kill-someone-close-to-you sort than the nasty-zapping-beams-that-go-everywhere sort, so I came to the conclusion that there wasn't much point in me hiding around the corner. Either our troops would win (and numbers were in our favor) or the mind-controlled people would win (they had unknown abilities in their favor); either way, cowering in the corner wasn't going to do much good. So I went over to the techie who was trying to jury-rig the lift to see if I could be any help to her. She had me holding the panel open, and I gingerly tried my left hand on it, ready to yank it away and not scream if it hurt like anything. It didn't hurt, and my hand seemed to be functioning just fine. After a bit, the techie got something, and the doors closed. The numbers on the display went down, and the three of us got ready to do whatever needed to be done when they stopped changing and the doors opened. We were still in the same place. At this point, the third person (on of the soldiers) lost patience and went to go get shot at. Since the battle was still going on, I decided that strength of numbers was not working as well as might be hoped, and stayed (particularly since I was at least being vaguely useful here). And that's when the elevator dropped. No warning, no doors closing, just dropped. It wasn't an uncontrolled fall, just faster than I thought was probably normal for that lift. As I woke up, I thought that the soldier should have stayed; techie-gal and I were liable to be the only survivors from that particular group.