#nightmares and dreamscaps

[allhailstephenking]

Stephen King Poll - Collections

[weirdlookindog]

Fritz Schwimbeck (1889-1972) - Traum (Dream)

[thegorgonist]

Tame your worst fears, ride the night mare for all it's worth, don't worry about where it will take you as long as it will take you away. Grab a print here

[ai-dream]

How did you get here, 10.

[peachsukii]

There’s an unknown darkness surrounding you, your body full of dread. Your veins are laced with panic trying to make sense of what’s going on.

“Hey,” you hear, but it’s muffled, unsure of the direction it’s coming from. You attempt to run, but your feet are too heavy to move.

“Hey!” You hear a second time, fear beginning to engulf your nerves. What the hell is happening? You can’t see anything, and yet, your intuition is telling you to get the fuck out of here.

“Wake up!”

You jolt upward, sucking in a desperate breath as you collide foreheads with Bakugo.

“Ow, fuck! I should’a seen that comin’,” he sighs, holding his head briefly before shifting his attention to you. “Sweets, you were screamin’ again in your sleep. You okay?”

The pain barely registers from colliding with him as you attempt to get your breath under control, a cold sweat drenching your clothes while you blink away the remnants of your nightmare. You couldn’t even remember what was happening - if anything was happening, for that matter. You’re trying to find the words to assure him that you’re okay but they’re trapped in your chest, tears pooling in your eyes from the overload of emotions surging through your nervous system.

Bakugo pulls you into his chest, stroking your hair and back gently. “S’okay, peach. M’here, not goin’ anywhere. Just breathe.”

And you do, one shaky breath at a time while your body regains its composure. You focus on how your cheek feels against his bare chest, soothed by the rhythm of his heartbeat, letting yourself drift off into thoughtlessness.

“Everything’s alright, you’re safe an’ sound,” Bakugo whispers assuringly, lying his head atop yours. He notices the sweat sticking to your back and the tackiness to your skin. “Lemme get you outta those clothes and some water, yeah?”

You nod, letting your arms fall from his back as he shifts out from under the covers. He tugs at your hand to get you to stand up, and once you do, grabs the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head and hooks his fingers into your underwear to slip them down your thighs. He grabs a pair of his boxers and one of his old t-shirts to dress you with, helping you into both garments carefully.

“There we go. You okay if I leave to get you water?” Bakugo asks, kissing your face repeatedly to get you to giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes, stay here.”

He retreats to the kitchen from your shared bedroom, the hallway light lingering in the doorway. Not even a minute passes before he’s back at your side and handing you a tall glass of cold water. He sits you down and places a hand on your back while you chug the entire glass.

“Sorry for waking you, Kats,” you apologize while placing the empty glass on the bedside table. “I don’t even know what I was dreaming about.”

“Don’t apologize, peaches. Ya can’t help havin’ nightmares, I have ‘em too and you’re always here for me. Let me be here for you, too.” He places a kiss to your shoulder before gracing you with a soft smile. “Now let’s get back’ta bed.”

The two of you slide back under the covers together, entangling your bodies to be as close as possible.

“I’m right here if ya need me,” Bakugo comments, kissing the back of your neck before nestling his head on the pillow above you. “Not lettin’ you go.”

When you finally drift back into dreamland, it’s no longer dark - quite the opposite. You’re surrounded by warmth, the sun shining brightly with the wind blowing through your hair. You spot Bakugo walking toward you in the park with two ice creams, eagerly awaiting the sweet treat.

[blae-kitta]

Dreamscape chats before everything went wrong

[somegrumpynerd]

Good heavens, look at the time! (Points to a clock where every hour is replaced with "gooptales")

@topazshadowwolf's boys will be the death of me please read it it's so good

[bunnywan]

i like this

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Dreamscape (1984)

[thegreatyin]

@thunder-threnodies morgan can definitely try!!!

the scoundrel REALLY doesn't take well to dream intrusions. they don't take well to any amount of messing with their mind, but. well. dreams are perhaps the thing that irritates them most of all. any amount of scoundrel dream diving would have to be quick, delicate, and most definitely behind their back- and they will notice regardless, and they will hold a grudge for the rest of their stupidly long batty life about it.

as for the actual contents of those dreams, well...

when they first achieved their ambition, the scoundrel used to dream of flower fields and starry skies. as time has gone on, this dream has. Distorted, somewhat.

the flowers have become wilder. the grass has become twisted and tangled amidst thorns and thickets. the stars have started blinking in and out of existence. ice has started creeping up along the edges of her mind, like a memory she just. can't quite get rid of.

(there's a certain city in the distance. he always tries not to look at it. he always fails.)

it's oddly peaceful, once you get past the frost and the foliage. the scoundrel usually sits at the valley's heart, surrounded by a web of dahlias and daisies. her exact dreams vary wildly, but no matter what, he always plays them out at the center, like the entire dreamscape is just a stage for that night's particular performance. there's always a chance to step away and go further into the field, if he wills it. he never seems to realize it's an option in the first place.

when her mind is kind, and quiet, she does have normal nights. simple time spent with her paramours. joyous days as a beast, hanging upside down and snacking on fruit and bugs to her heart's content. simply existing as she wills it.

but. well. most of her plays aren't that. most of her plays can only be best described as nightmares. her entire dreamscape is essentially one big fancy backdrop to that.

most often the play is a memory. a small mistake she made, a social interaction she floundered. sometimes it's a surgical appointment with her coworkers. sometimes it's an argument with someone he's never gotten over. sometimes it's performing open heart surgery on someone wearing her own face. sometimes it's a monkey and a single bronze fruit, never eaten.

sometimes it's a corpse pinning him against the ground and screaming, wailing, begging for the answer as to why he's done what he's done.

other times her dream-performance is more... esoteric. flocks of bats he can't quite recognize. a mirror he can't quite look through. a star commanding him to put a leash around his neck, which he obeys with utmost gratitude.

he tends to prefer those nights. they hit less closer to home.

for all of his power in parabola, he gets lost in his own dreams... Very Very Very Easily. it's probably part of why he's so protective over them. being seen completely enveloped in a torment nexus your own mind made up isn't exactly stellar for one's image. having her dreams exposed and sifted through is Deeply Unpleasant to the scoundrel. it means she's vulnerable. open. human.

and her mind can't imagine anything more terrifying than that.

[ritsu-shinjo]

Do you have nightmares? Is what happens in them more realistic or fantasy stress? What sorts of nightmares do you have in general, or would you be comfortable sharing the last one you had?

I suppose my dreams are more fantastical in nature. I rarely dream about the mundanity of my regular life, perhaps because the routine of my schedule provides comfort.

These are some of my recurring dreams.

(((Dreams under the cut: TW: Trypophobia

I sometimes dream of a rolling red fog. I cannot see beyond the span of my fingertips, save for the occasional flash of a pile of a chain link fence. I am trapped in a maze. There is no breeze. It almost feels as if there is no air at all. My shoes drag on the gravel below me, but I cannot even be sure whether I am indoors or out. I do not know where I am going, either in my ultimate destination, or in the direction I am currently facing. I feel a growing, bottomless dread before I wake.

My discomfort with irregular shapes started with lotus pods. My mother would bring fresh flowers into the house and sometimes, there would be pods in the arrangement.

The pods always seemed like they were staring, accusing to my young mind. Like the eye sockets of the dead, watching me hatefully as I lived my life in the sunlight.

Sometimes, I dream of eyes, multitudinous eyes, all watching me from every angle. My skin crawls with the memory of it, the agony of being perceived and known.

I also dream of libraries often, ruined, waterlogged, crumbling. I drag myself across those hallways, the unremembered knowledge of a thousand lifetimes nothing more than wet, malodorous muck beneath my fingernails as I struggle to run from a horror I have not seen and cannot name.

I hope that answered your question about my nightmares. Hopefully now, I will not have summoned these phantasms into my bedroom, or yours.

good night.

(((BONUS CONTENT)))

(((I started to draw out a nightmare that Ritsu experienced while having been unwittingly dosed with a drug for an RP server on Discord, but never finished it. Here are the raw from what I had done. Maybe if I get encouragement, I’ll finish it.)))

[toadslug]

Experimenting with comics!! Doubt that this is going to be a full-fledged thing lmao. Just always wanted to try out this format. Didn't worry about polishing it or anything.

More QN stuff. This is relates to the fancy outfits stuff I posted a while back.

Nami (purple SeaWing) belongs to @heyniyasmile!! Everyone else is mine.

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[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

still thinking about the dream i had the other night where me and grian chatten dismantled my childhood wardrobe (the place i used to hide when things were bad) and turned it into kintsugi

[howtomakeyousee]

[ai-dream]

The Pink Backrooms 3.

[brokendreamscreation]

Falling.

He was falling…

All six strong wings stained black by the shadows that clung like oil, slick yet heavy as it pulled him down from the dreamers Heavenly realm. Lucid had put up a fight, desperate to save his remaining dreamspheres. And not just them, but his most cherished memory spheres as well. Moments held forever in time in perfect, vivid detail that the young angel deemed too important to remain as mere thoughts. Clutching the satchel close to his chest, he protected his most prized possessions as the shadows tried to rip them from Lucid.

The nightmares were ice cold, chilling right down to the soul. Putrid fear in its most pure form but guided by an unseen force. It knew Lucifer’s pain and fear greatly, an ever violent present that loved to toy with the fallen archangel whenever the king slipped into the world of the dreamscape. While this angel was not Lucifer, it knew the connection closely drawn between them, and thus thrust upon the dreamer the same terror and pain Lucid’s predecessor endured. Stabbing, shadowed spears that pierced through the seraphs body and the dark outline of family and friends stood glaring with judgement. They reached at Lucid’s satchel, attempting to rip those precious dreams from his grasp, just as Heaven had done to Lucifer.

Through the open dome of Lucid’s workshop the angel fell from the galaxy like Dreamscape, the bountiful starry scenery shrouding in the darkest of black. A malevolent force that hummed and whispered, slowly spiraling above. The Angel of Dreams & Illusions crashed to the polished floor below, the strike of his head against stone knocking him unconscious. His satchel spilled open and dumped dozens of tiny marble like spheres across the floor with a clatter, his precious memories out of the clutches of the nightmares but still exposed and vulnerable.

Golden ichor slipped from the corner of Lucid’s mouth as well as from laceration to the back of his head upon impact. Cuts weeped gold where the illusionary spears had pierced, its essence coating over the shadow stained wings and making them a beautiful golden tone. Golden, fallen, and dreams scattered around him, it were as though Lucifer himself had fallen a second time.