Dreams are pesky little things, aren't they?

Reality, twisted by the mind that conjured it. A melding of memory and fantasy until it became a mockery of both. A twisting of the minutiae with the vague and adding in a dash of the unreal. Dreams come with limitations and also freedom...and at any point in time, those two will cross wires for no reason but whim.

Dreams are a fickle temptress.

Or are they memories floating around the ether, just waiting for a chance to tell their tale?

[ Welcome to the second Rookshire TDM!

This is a dream. There are no powers. This is a character stripped away to their most helpless selves. Tag around, have fun.]

Paranoia:

The setting was familiar to some, alien to others, but either way it was pleasant. Blocks of nice, well kept houses. A park. The constant murmur of cars rolling by and voices from picnicking families. A cozy suburbia haven with the sun shining overhead and a cool breeze to keep the worst of the heat at bay.

Quiet. Blissful.

And yet...there was something lurking just at the back of the mind. A hint that things might not be so perfect in paradise. A man jogging by with his dog making just a little too much eye contact. A couple just keeping pace, talking in low voices and occasionally giggling...but every so often the burn of their eyes on the spine is enough to raise the little hairs at the nape of the neck.

A set of footsteps that remained unseen but heard.

A gnawing sense of being followed.

There are eyes, everywhere. An older man who pauses watering his lawn to stare as you go by. The looming shadow of a perfectly trimmed hedge, ominous in the deepening light of afternoon. The footsteps hasten, yours match. 2 doors down, a cute cardboard cutout stuck to a plastic table. Lemonade. 50 cents

But you can’t stop, not with the footsteps behind you, stalking after you.

Cutting through a yard, the shock of a rough, loud bark a big shaggy St. Bernard rushes towards you, stopped on a line. Close, too close, just like your pursuer. One yard to the next until finally you find a fence, taller than a regular yard, still chain link but here there are no eyes, the footsteps have faded, here there is no one.

Maybe here it is safe... if you could just get inside.


Descent:

Between one breath and another, it had changed. Darkened. The previous scenery and emotions snatched away like nothing and replaced with the vague sensation of downwards and the hard press of pitted metal against the palms.

An elevator, old and creaky. Metal grates instead of sleek interior, and the door wasn't a door but a double gate system that was alarming in its simplicity. What stopped someone from simply reaching through those bars? Nothing but the understanding that doing so would lose them their hand in what would no doubt be one of the most painful ways possible.

Past the bars, slipping away from sight layer by layer were floors upon floors of dark hallways. Some floors had movement sliding in the darkness, others had people dressed in pale green scrubs, still and quiet as they stared at the passing elevator. One particular level showed just a single room, an empty chair in the middle. Restraints dangled from the arms and waist, open and waiting for the body they'd hold in place.

The elevator slid smoothly past that floor before anyone showed up, but something akin to a whisper came from above. A couple more from below. Or was that behind? Who knows. Things echoed and twisted and everything was an underlay to the constant grinding sound of the rusted wires that supported the slow slide downwards.

Movement. A breath, or perhaps a shift of cloth against metal. Someone was there, sharing this sinking metal box. Familiar or otherwise, it didn't matter. The elevator finally touched the bottom of the shaft it had been taking them down...and a head of them was a labyrinth of hallways and doors and never ending loops.

Every door was unlocked....but stepping through it only brought one back to the top of the elevator shaft and that slow descent started all over.

Restraint:

A breath, a blink, a moment in time and the endless wandering through hallways was over. Indeed, there was movement...but not individually. One would find themselves seated, strapped to wheel chair with what looked like thick leather cuffs and the wrists and ankles, a belt looped around the belly to keep someone from arching and throwing themselves over.

Again, they weren't alone. The chair was in motion, rolling smoothly down the corridors that had once been a labyrinth...but the hands that held the handles weren't the hands of the person that had been there before. Instead, they wore black latex gloves...and the cuffs that rested around the wrists was of a white lab coat. They said nothing. Their faces were too shadowed to see, hair obscuring details until they were as faceless as any other dream time monster.

Fortunately, the walk wasn't as long as the elevator ride and it wasn't long before the hallways opened up into a large room. Computers lined the walls, screens showing data that made perfect sense at first glance, but upon a closer look was just scribbles. A large cage stood in the middle of the room, wires looped through the chain link and heavy clamps clipped to the top corners.

There were people in the cage, some clipped to the sides by long chains, others just loose...but the sally port entry way kept any of them from rushing the door as the white coat pushed the chair from one door to the other....and once inside, the cuffs melted away, but the white coat was already gone, the doors and walls electrified.

Somewhere, someone spoke.

"Test number 102, human trials. Begin experiment."