Fate of the World!

In keeping with the theme of this blog, I just really feel like I want to write this dream down while it's still vivid and alive in my head. Like most of my dreams, it hits me pretty heavily and leaves me either emotionally drained or emotionally amped when I wake up. Sometimes (like this one) I'm not quite sure which it is.

So welcome to the subconscious of Jonathan. =D

I'm sitting in an old, gray swivel chair like the ones you'd find in a barbershop from the 40's, my fingertips brushing repeatedly against the numerous rivulets of rough, ancient, cracked leather that webs across its arms. My eyes narrow slightly from the dull brightness of the afternoon sun that filters in through rusted windows and half-drawn blinds, my ears barely hearing the cacophony of sounds that play back and forth in the thriving heart of Chinatown. Here, in this room that smells like old, heady incense soaked into the aging mahogany that paves the floor and cabinets, with the click-clack of swaying beads echoing lightly, I try to make sense of the red and gold tattoo that spirals across my left arm.

I see a phoenix and a griffin, which in turn becomes just a griffin, resplendent in brilliant golds and reds and while being a notably European creature, seems for the purpose of this dream to be a myth born of ancient Chinese lore. There's an aura of mystery and power that surrounds the art, and as I look at its picture it seems to writhe and twist its form across the length of my forearm.

Then in what seems like mere seconds, some form of shadowed enemies burst into the room and I find myself running across rooftops and alleyways, my heart pounding in my ears, the knowledge that I needed more time a mysterious but very definite, undeniable reality.

So I end up cutting off my forearm and eating it to keep its secrets from the enemy.

Eventually, I somehow end up with two additional tattoos at what seems like a much later time. Two coy-fish, red and gold intertwine around my right leg while a huge dragon runs across the length of my back. At this point my arm had grown back (like Wolverine) but the original tattoo wasn't there anymore, and I knew that I needed to get it back as fast as I could or the world was doomed. It seemed as if the fate of the world hung in the balance.

So I travel the world now, trying to find the old man who originally gave me that tattoo and complete the triad of creatures that represent power, fortune, and immortality. Somehow, with these powers I would be able to save the world.

And then I wake up, and have to go to work.