I try to write something past 4 in the morning

[Jub3r7]

Warning: Until further notice, the story will alternate between present tense and past tense.
Chapter 1: Stay Sleeping

    It was a long walk, and the pavement moved under me at a steady pace. It was a crowded street, and I was looking for anything familiar so I could stop and let someone know where I am, so they could pick me up.

    The buildings on either side of the road were filled with various kinds of candy, and kids were stopping at each one to fill their baskets. It's not really Halloween, but I don't pay that much attention to it.

    Finally, I go inside a store and I see my cousin standing in the middle of it. Suddenly a question comes into my mind and I ask him, "This is a dream, isn't it?"

    "No..." he responded.

    "Yes."

    "No," he insisted.

    "Here, I can prove it, watch!" With a wave of my hand, I made a woman standing in the distance slap herself lightly. "Ow!" She glared at me and stormed out of the shop.

    Suddenly, a wave of nausea came over me. Not just nausea but the sense that this had happened before; nostalgia isn't the word for it... Oh yes, Déjà vu. I've done all of this before, in a previous dream, except this is where the dream had ended the last time around. I concentrated with all my might to stay asleep for a little longer, and in the edge of my mind I could hear that someone was trying to wake me up. I held onto the fake reality in desperation, and suddenly the dream became much more vivid.

    This would be the first time I've become aware of a lucid dream and stayed asleep afterwards. Usually, I instantly snap myself awake and worry about oversleeping, or my mind tries to rid itself of the dream because I've realized its artificiality. However, this time around, I plan to make full use of my mind's creation. With a single thought, the store is replaced by a grassy field, and I walk to the top of the hill. The sun is bright and real, illuminating the pencil-drawn clouds high above my reach.

    I reached out my arm and felt a cloud, which pushed it aside into the other clouds. They bounced around and I remembered that I shouldn't be able to reach them, so instead I jumped off the ground and decided to not come back down right away. After getting bored of playing in the clouds, I flew back over to the buildings where the kids were receiving candy.

    "This is going to be awesome." I flew into the roof of one of the buildings filled with candy, and it exploded into bits of wrapped chocolate. Some of the kids grew excited and ran towards the mess, while others panicked and ran in the other direction.

    A colorful building across the street caught my eye. I wondered what kind of candy would be in there! My shoes became miniature rockets and I went straight through my destination, when it began raining individually wrapped jaw breakers. The kids looked excited at first but when the hard candy began descending from above, their smiles turned into flinches of pain when it made contact. Strangely, I couldn't make it stop raining candy. Shouldn't I be able to have full control over the situation?

    My question is answered when suddenly I am pelted with hard candy along with everyone else in the street. I was still flying but unable to escape the situation. "I suppose it's time to wake up, then."

    I pulled open my eyes....

    And suddenly I was back in the shop, where I started. "This is a dream, isn't it?" my cousin said.

    "Hey, that's my line! I'm the one who realizes it's a dream and..." Oh, a dream within a dream. Let's try waking up again.

    I jump out of bed. My door is closed with my "keep out" sign on the inside of my door with a picture of a soccer ball above it. Wait, isn't that usually on the outside of my door? I open the door and trip into the fiery abyss.

    Again, I jump out of bed. I pinch my skin as a hard as possible, I open my eyes even wider than ever before, and I find myself back in the shop with my cousin standing in front of me.

    "This is a dream, isn't it?" He asked me.

[Mashi]

A+++++++++
Would read again.

[SlowPokemon]

A+++++++++
Would read again.

Took the words right out of my mouth

[Jub3r7]

Chapter 2: Dream Log

    I've been dreaming for a while now, and becoming lucid isn't too hard. Everything is black, I know I'm asleep and so I can make things happen in my surroundings. I can make fictional characters appear, and have them... oh hey Zelda. Yeah. You do that.

    Someone once told me that your mind can't create faces, so when you see someone in your dreams, you've probably run across them before. I've met a few people I don't recognize, and made friends with them. There's Iapetos, for example. He's given me a book, with blank lines in it so I can record names of people to remember, or places to revisit.

    I open it up, and on the first page is "Iapetos". It's on the third line, though. There are erase marks on the first and second line, with a title at the top: "People".

    I flip over to the back of the book. Places, there are a few things I've scribbled down under this section. The Waterfall Tavern catches my eye.

    In a small alcove at the end of a grassy path, a waterfall streams from atop a granite cliff. Through the waterfall is a hole you wouldn't notice unless you decided to go under it, leading to a bar full of people who don't seem to notice that the entrance is pretty unusual.

    Well, it was full the last time I was here. Today there's the bartender, and a couple of tables filled with people who look like they don't want to be bothered. "Where are your friends?", the bartender asks.

    "Do you mean Iapetos?"

    "Yeah, that guy and the two siblings you were with."

    "I don't remember who you're talking about."

    "I knew you drank a bit but I didn't think you were that lightweight."

    That's strange. I would've written them down in my book if I had spent some time with them. "So are you going to buy a drink tonight or what?"

    Sure. I pull out some money from... the pocket that I just grew. "Get me something strong and yet non-alcoholic."

    "If you say so. I'll be back in a minute." The bartender disappears into a storage room while you remember Iapetos on the seat next to you for some company.

    "Oh hey! I see you're putting my book to use."

    "I just ordered a drink, what are you getting?"

    "I'll stick with the soda pop, don't need a repeat of last night."

    ...Last night? Okay, so, passage of time. "I can't remember what happened, was somebody with us?"

    "No. You and I, we just... drank a lot. That's all." Something flashed across his face.

    "I'm dreaming, alcohol doesn't actually affect me.""

    "It can if you want it to, and apparently you wanted it to. If you really don't remember, then you must've really wanted it to."

    I... I guess that makes sense. The bartender finally comes back, and he's carrying a dusty can with a picture of a muscular arm on the side. Ah, a strong drink. He washes it off, pours it in a glass. "Cheers! And a soda pop for you again, Iapetago? Iapeago? Galapago? Iago?"

    "Yeah. And it's Iapetos."

     ....Hold up. "Again?" I press the bartender on his previous statement.

    "Yes, he ordered a soda pop last night while the rest of you got black out drunk, apparently."

    "Hold it! Just a minute ago, Iapetos said he drank with me last night. And what other people?"

    "OBJECTION!" It's the prosecution, Iapetos. "There were no other people, unless you have some sort of evidence that there was, Mr. Wright?"

     Hmm... Present evidence or concede that there is no contradiction?

    "There's clearly a contradiction in the statement, your honor. And I have the evidence to prove it, too."

    I examine my belongings. There's an old fashioned pencil with an eraser, my notebook, an ambiguous amount of money, and a can of strong drink... There's only one thing that makes sense.

    "TAKE THAT! Here! On the first page of this book, there are two empty lines, under the people section, before your name, Iapetos, is written. Can the prosecution explain what that means?"

    "OBJECTION! Wow, it's a book, not relevant to -"

    "OBJECTION! Iapetos, you gave me this book after I told you I was the dreamer of this world. You told me to record names of people and places I wanted to remember. I'm not the type of person to erase names from a book of memories."

    "HOLD IT! But... but-"

    The bartender interrupts. "I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about, but are you accusing the prosecution of murdering the girl and boy from yesterday?"

    "Yes! But-"

    "OBJECTION! Do you have any proof of your claim? A murder weapon, perhaps?"

    Well, it doesn't make sense for me to present the strong drink as a murder weapon. Maybe. Unless they were killed with this and poison or something. How about...

    Someone meandering from one of the other table stands up and acts as the judge. "Isn't that... a pencil? Are you saying they were stabbed with a pencil?"

    "No, your honor. Their names were erased in the dream log by Iapetos... with this very eraser. I use this book so I can return to places and remember people as I'm dreaming. Now that their names are gone, because of Iapetos... they are dead."

    The crowd goes wild, the judge hammers his gavel, and the court is called for a recess.

[K-NiGhT]

damn jub bringing the story board back before i even had a chance to start up my own series

way to read my mind

[Bloop]

i feel there are more references in this than I know
Nice job btw ^^

[mikey]

INCEPTION 2.0!!!!

[SlowPokemon]

Oh my god you're perfection

[Jub3r7]

Chapter 3: Who Am I?

     No, I am not me. At least not right now. Right now, I am something else. Someone else. As a lucid being, I can be someone else in this dream, and currently I don't know who I am.

     I look down upon the masses, and see them looking up at me, some with excited eyes, some of them fearful, some of them destined. The destined ones prepare to play an instrument, one holding a violin, another with a viola, there is a single flute, a piano, and perhaps a trombone, farther away from everyone else in an effort to balance the sound. There are many other musicians prepared to play a unique instrument, looking up at me, in the sky. They are here to play my symphony.

     I send my page down from the heavens to deliver the sheet music. The bassoon player, accepting the sheet, looks startled. These musicians are the best in the land. Is there something wrong? My page returns to deliver a message, they say my symphonies are impossible to play, or at least "sight read."

     What a foolish sentiment. I flood the masses. Maybe they will learn to play better, now. My page informs me that many on this planet are not able to swim very well. I create a raft for a select few, so they can repopulate and again play my symphonies.

     I return in a few thousand years, and discover they have forgotten my music, and have created their own "video game sheet music." I arrange a few pieces, and some complain that it's too difficult, but I am patient this time around. Others say they are working on my pieces, but I haven't seen their performances come to fruition more than a few times. They must perform all of my pieces, or they shall perish.

     I express this sentiment, and they heed my command. For I am the great, the one and only Maestro. Please, please, hold your applause.

     I see the creator of this dream down below, holding a book with the title "Dream Log." Upon examining its contents, it has a list of names and places that hold no importance. But that shall change. I add my own name to this list. On the places page, I pause... and then I write "the Darkness."

     Let's see what comes of that. And let us interact with the peoples and their music. Music doesn't change in the darkness, unless some of the performance is a visual one. However, in darkness, instead of seeing what's in front of you, there will be, in your eyes, something else. Many assume that what they see is nothingness, or the lack of anything. That assumption is wrong. Your visual perception changes in the darkness, to see something else, something perhaps indescribable in words. But in my symphonies, maybe you will hear their song.

     They've been there your whole life. Maybe when you were little and you closed your eyes to sleep, you saw fireworks before you even started dreaming. In your waking state, you see silhouettes of something shaping your vision, changing, limiting, expanding your focus. Recently you humans have captured a picture of the stars more closely than in the past, and you recognize the close-up of those stars as the fireworks of sleep, of the back of your eyelids. But go into a pitch black room, stare into the darkness, with your eyes open, and you'll see it there, too.

     Play my symphonies, human, and hear their song. Dream of something indescribable, and put it into words. Breathe the life of thousands, and dream. Aren't you dead? Aren't you alive? Don't you want to give up? Don't you want to win? What's next? What are your thoughts? Where did they go? Good luck.

[mikey]

It all makes sense now

[Jub3r7]

Chapter 4: Rocket Ship!

    Joan was a decent father. He did fatherly things, like use aftershave and buy cologne, provided for the family, spoiling his son a little, but not too much.

    Tate was not a bad mother. She helped provide for the family just as Joan did, working at an accounting firm and slowly moving up the ranks. Probably. I wouldn't know. I don't actually know her too well.

    Max was their creative son. Joan wanted to name him Levi, but Tate decided that their son shouldn't be a pair of pants.

    "Dad, can I build a rocket ship?"

    "Sure. Do you need a cardboard box or any markers to help decorate it?"

    "Hmm... The markers might help in performing some calculations, and I'm sure I can find some use for the cardboard box. Thanks, dad!"

    "ok have fun kid"

    Tate approached Joan after arriving home from work. "What's Max doing in the backyard?"

    "Working on his cardboard box, I think. Probably. I wouldn't know. I've just been in the kitchen all day making some John Cena."

    "I can't wait to eat John Cena while watching potato salad in its next wrestling match. Anyway, I think Max said to meet him in the backyard after you finished in the kitchen."

    "I'm really into this recipe, and it's an overnight ordeal. Let's just see what he wants now."

    Joan and Tate go into the backyard and find the cardboard box marked 'S.S. Spaceville'. Their son climbed out as if there was some sort of ladder. "The preparations are done! Do you guys want to go with me to space?"

    "No, thanks. I think I like planet Earth," chuckled Tate.

    "Suit yourself! Not that there's anything wrong with Earth, I just wanted to go chart unknown territory. Deep sea is out of the question though, there are jellyfish down there. I hate Jellyfish."

    "Alright, have fun, kiddo. Do you need a lift into space?" Joan wondered where that hatred for jellyfish came from. Max had never been to the beach.

    "I'm alright, I've already done the calculations necessary and an extra boost might throw off the numbers. Goodbye! Oh, could you close the hatch for me?"

    "Sure." Joan folded the box close. Tate smiled, wondering how long Max's innocent childhood was going to last, whether he'd remember this moment when he was older.

    Tate and Joan went back inside. Max launched himself into space. All the necessary supplies for space travel were inside the box. It was a pretty big box.

    Of course, his parents noticed when it sounded like there was an earthquake in their backyard. There were traces of what appeared to be a giant explosion. Tears were shed that night, as they had no reason to believe that their son was alive. Joan didn't finish making the John Cena.

[Bloop]

waitwat



Poor Max D:

[Jub3r7]

Chapter 5: Wake up.

    What? My name is... agh. Let me scroll up a little. Oh.

    Never mind my name. I'm the guy who's been dreaming all of this, and someone's been telling me to wake up. I haven't been able to escape these realities, but that doesn't mean I won't be able to in the future.

    Assumption 1: I'm in a coma. What do I know and how do I think I know it? That's the rationalist frame of thought. Your beliefs should be reevaluated based on your experiences, and all information gathered. If that's still not enough, or there is contradictory evidence, the information or even your experiences need to be reexamined.

    Assumption 2: I can wake up from a coma. Any other train of thought isn't productive, even if other possibilities exist. Triggering an awakening can involve memories, possible invoked by music or people surrounding me in real time. Of course, if you think of people in terms of momentum and inertia, we are suspended in zero gravity and upon examining the laws of physics, we can't change direction without an outside force. We can be a cat in this theoretical zero gravity and create an external force within ourselves, allowing us to land on our feet even if our current rate of rotation says otherwise. My apologies if you are annoyed by the extended metaphor, but this is how I think. If I can evoke my own memories by lucid dreaming, then maybe I can wake myself up. Usually outside forces cause one to change direction, but the metaphor in question discusses how we can create a physical, internal force to cause an impact that acts as an external force to change our momentum or inertia. Probably Newton's second law. Maybe.

    Assumption 3... I didn't answer my question from assumption one. How do I know I'm in a coma and why do I think I'm in a coma? Well, I'm dreaming, but I can't wake up. It's not the afterlife because... because the afterlife wouldn't be leaving signs everywhere about waking up. In the clouds, while I'm laying in a grassy field, the words are there. An awful crayon drawing by a kid with him and a best friend he doesn't remember from when he was 4, and the words scrawled on the page in barely legible hand writing. How do I know I'm the one dreaming all this, and not somebody else? Other characters here feel like extensions of me, or people I know. Actually, not the people I know, but rather how I feel about the people I know. Well, it's pretty obvious, but these other characters have exempted what appears to be sentience, so I felt like I had to clear myself up.

    Assumption 4... There's an audience! I mean, in reality, I know there's not, but if there is, I wouldn't know it. Besides, it's easier to judge my thoughts this way and better yet, to be a "genre-savvy character." If I'm really in a story, then examining it from the outside is the best way to solve any problems objectively. If I'm not in a story, then my thoughts are just a little strange and nobody can judge me for it because nobody's reading it. If there are mind readers... well, then there's probably a story too.

    Okay, so if there was a story, there probably would have been more continuity in my dreams, unless the writer was just really awful, and made obscure references on a forum that's not even relevant to these dreams. Anyway, back to whatever train of thought I was having - waking up.

    So, I have to wake up, by evoking memories, by using my ability to lucid dream. I have my dream log, names and places I can visit, but most of these only feel like mirrors of reality or possibilities rather than actual memories that would get me out of this coma.

    And the implication that I'm in a coma... means I have to be in a coma for a reason. What was I doing before I was dreaming? What was the first dream I had? Was it for a reason? I think it was raining sweets, am I in a diabetic coma? I haven't been diagnosed with diabetes but there is a slight family history of them on my mom's side. My mom isn't named Joan, for the record, but my dad did want to name me Levi. (I'm not Max either, but you can call me that if you want. I didn't die in the explosion, but the rocket ship I built left that impression on the ground, so Joan and Tate only assumed I was dead.)

    Evoke memories. The first dream I had... involved my cousin. I don't think it's a diabetic coma, even though my cousin has diabetes, because... Well, I can't think of a conscious reason, but it's more of a gut feeling. Get it? Gut feeling?

    I see my cousin at work weekly, so I might have been there. The floors are slippery but I never fall except when I'm running with a box of sauce next to the dishwasher, but even then I roll high enough on the dexterity check to not receive a comatose blow from that.

    How do people get into comas? Prior medical conditions, including diabetes... a blow to the head, maybe in a fall or a fight. What type of person am I? That would help me narrow down the options and remember, most likely. Fighting... as much as I like to picture myself in an arcade fighting game, wielding a staff, I don't get into actual fights. If someone challenged me and didn't let me back down, I would rely on higher endurance and leg muscles to get away, assuming they don't have a gun. I might bump into things but I'm not clumsy, just not spatially aware. (Good thing I'm skinny.) By this I mean I don't fall fatally.

    Prior medical conditions? The only memory of that is childhood asthma. I had an inhaler at some point, and now I'm holding one. I wonder if it's relevant? The doctor forms always say to list any and all drugs you have taken recently, and I always debate whether or not to put gummy vitamins on it. I'm a grown man (or something.)

    Okay then, what else causes a blow to the head? Cars? I walk in traffic a lot but I'm more likely to fall off the road than to get hit by a car. That actually happened once. I didn't get hurt, just fell and almost dropped my bag.

    I'm not coming up with any conclusions. If I just went into a coma after falling asleep... Falling asleep, instead of doing that I sometimes go on a certain subreddit where people tell stories about their experiences that don't make sense for the reality they are in. The conclusions to draw from these stories might include... group hallucinations, or a faulty memory, but these people usually assume dimension jumping or even quantum immortality as the most likely scenario.

    How do I wake up? Deja vu comes to mind. Except with the fancy letters that indicate its pronunciation, and not however I just pronounced it. People sometimes experience this in places that they haven't been to before, and the popular explanation for that is they've dreamed the experience before, whether through mind simulation, prediction, or some combination of both. I can revisit places I've been to in real life in these dreams, and I think maybe revisiting some of these locations in the dream log would be a good idea as well. Exploring these places for a second time could remind me of my train of thought, and maybe I can trace a pattern to the exit.

    Going in reverse order on the dream log sounds like a good idea, and possibly visiting any real places they are based on. Last three items on the list... Townsville, Speaker Town... Space!