It's Curtains for you

I was in a show - a TerrorWerks sort of show, except everyone was in Renaissance garb. 

Note: Terrorwerks is a simulation game where you are given an air rifle and told to go through a maze or building completing objectives. 

This game was on a spaceship about to land on an alien planet. Our objectives were to keep the ship from getting destroyed, while at the same time taking out the enemy forces on the ground below. So we started to land, and I had a hand gun given to me, with which to destroy the explosive charges which had latched onto our ship. My teammates were doing likewise. We got all the charges taken care of, and we landed. There were lots of "enemies" though the tone was never one of animosity. It was like we were all playing at being heroes and villains. To shoot someone, you had to his a little orange-lit circle with a black center that floated either in front of them or above their heads.

We were winning this fight, when suddenly we realized that we had missed some munitions. We went to destroy one, but the leader of the opposing force detonated one while we were retreating, and the audience (who appeared from nowhere) got all hushed because it was a "nuclear" explosion. It destroyed the ship and everyone except me, and him. I acted all stalwart, and went back to our camp, where I picked up a gun, put it down, and instead took a thin blade with no real hilt - it was just a long piece of bendable metal, with wire wrapped around the end.

Outside it was a giant circular plain - and the opposing leader was standing there, similarly armed. All around the two of us, the "dead" players were watching and gathering. I strode across the field and told him he would pay for what he had done. He laughed, and we sort of fought. The audience was impressed, because they didn't know what was going on and couldn't tell if it was real. He tripped and fell backwards, and I pressed my blade up under his throat. I said something really cheesy (can't remember what - probably something like "for my friends...") and then I "slit" his throat - except it was all fake, so that I just swished the blade in front of his neck. Even this bent the tip of my blade, which I had to fix. 

Then there was something like a cast bow - except now there were girls in stilts as well as all the other costumery. The audience was clapping, and we were all happy to have put on such a good show.

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This was a fun campy dream - especially once it became clear that it was all fake. There was a lot more detail in the firefight, except I can't remember names or people, so I don't think it would make a lot of sense. You know, like the rest of the dream.

The Tudors are Jerks!

Alright - this dream was an episode of The Tudors, with flourishes.

I was a nun, I think - a mother superior - in this giant underground(?) monastery. Torchlight and giant columns - the works. And Master Cromwell (James Frain) was there, and he was demanding that I provide the king with women, and that he was going to destroy my abbey/monastery. I told him that I could, and he started to leave.

"But you must promise me something," I said. I walked up to him - he was on a step above me. "You must promise not to kill me in the end." Because I knew he betrayed people, and that everyone he knew wound up dead. He gave me a sarcastic little smile. I remember noticing the dark red stones hung around his neck, how fine his outfit was.

"Madam, I will make no such promise," he replied.

"Oh, but you will," I said. "Because it is in your best interest that I live. I am the soul of discretion, and can get you anything you want, and you'll never hear from me, never know that I am here." He started to turn away again, and I quietly asked, "And what of your soul, Master Cromwell?" I went on to question him a little, and I thought he was about to leave, but he broke down crying and almost fell over. I ran to him and held him tightly, and told him it would be alright. He was so very angry at himself, at the king, at the whole system he had helped put into place.

Later - there was a sort of procession through my monastery. I had all these women in white brought in, and stood them around the columns in the torchlight. King Henry VIII (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) arrived with his entourage, and they were very happy with what I had provided. I did not stay to see them take the women, but I could hear their revelry in the stairwells and corridors. I don't think I was the mother superior character here - like a good TV camera person, I was sweeping through the area in third person.

The queen was brought below and left there. I did not seem them put her in the crypt, but the camera did. She was going gaunt and going mad, and the King's new potential wife showed up, dancing and laughing in a beautiful gown of purple and green just outside the door, but the other queen could see her. The older queen gasped as the little woman tore off gold pieces from the dress. This angered the queen. The younger girl laughed, and tossed the gold pieces from the dress up into the air. She knew she had beaten the queen, who could not get out of the room she was in.

Then we were above ground, in a pale sunny room. I was sitting in a room with a group of nobles. At this point I remember I was wearing a black robe, but I was not the nun character anymore. Charles Brandon (Henry Cavill), was there, and they were debating...things. At some point, they made a mean-spirited joke about the common man, and I took insult. Brendon looked at me earnestly, and asked, "I'm sorry, that wasn't meant for you."

"Of course," I tried to laugh as I rose from the table. The other nobles were looking a little guiltily at me. "Excuse me, I'm just going to step out for a moment." I left and went down a few flights of stairs to where the completely period inappropriate bathrooms were. I sat down on a bench and tried not to feel sad. Brendon found me there, and apologized.

Then things started to deteriorate, in a dream sense. There was movement back downstairs, and crying from somewhere. The king was bored.

My monastery was sacked and robbed of all it's gold. I was outraged, but not so much as when they took my relics. This included two deformed children who were rumored to cure the blind. Guards showed up and threw bags over their heads and started to pull them to a cart. It was night. They couldn't understand what was going on, and I couldn't stop the guards. Not that I was really putting up a fight. I kept demanding that they take the hoods off, that the children weren't animals to be kept in cages, but no one was listening to me. The camera spun around a little crazily here. My great hound came up to me, and I was comforted. But then they took my hound from me as well, and I tried not to weep. "Why?!" I screamed. "Why must you take my dog as well?!" I looked around for Cromwell, whom I was convinced betrayed me. I found him, but he was stripped of all his power and broken. There was nothing to do to stop the king from completing his plan to steal the monasteries. There was fire, and novices running around in a panic.

Deteriorating further:

Now there were people being shackled in rooms - and there were mutant people on the other side of these plexiglass walls. They had saucer like rings around their eyes, and i.v.'s in their arms. This was all taking place in a similar underground setting, except the period was totally different. And there were soldiers being experimented on, and people kept in plexiglass containers, and it was all choppy and vaguely sickening.

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OK, apart from the deterioration into area 51 at the end of the dream - this was really in-depth. I could feel the stone steps, and see the details in everyone's outfits. I've had cavernous underground settings in dreams before, but I don't have TV show dreams that often. The last one I had was a Doctor Who dream, and that was ages ago.

I haven't watched "The Tudors" in some time. I wonder why my subconscious decided to set the dream with that show? Or why it chose a monastery, when the show is considerably racier. Not that my dream wasn't racy, but it seemed somehow removed from the sex that was going on. I also wonder why our brains choose TV shows at all, when our minds are capable of much more? Why choose a show?

Baby Bad Omen Bird

I was in some sort of restaurant?- with mauve seats. I found a box with a bird's nest in it, and I thought that it was one of those craft projects where women reclaim old nests and decorate them. But as I was getting ready to pass it by, I heard something move in the box. I got closer to the box, and this little black fuzzball bird flapped out. It had a big black beak and spindly legs with big feet, but it's body was still covered with down. I picked it up and it cawed at me.

I was not really thrilled with the prospect of looking after this baby bird, but I walked around, trying to find someone who would take care of it. The little bird, meanwhile, sort of cawed and flapped around me, occasionally settling on my arm or shoulder. No one I met wanted the bird - they either were not interested, or were lying about being interested and changed their mind when I tried to hand the bird over to them.

So I, resigned, continued to walk through this diner with a fuzzball raven on my shoulder. It would look at me every so often, turning its head to the side, opening and closing it's over-sized beak.

* * *

I have no idea what to make of it. Traditionally, black birds like crows or ravens are bad omens. And I certainly wasn't happy in the dream, but I wasn't sad or scared. More than anything, I recall feeling very put out, like "Aw man, why do I have to take care of this stupid thing?" and resigned because no one else would help.