A rising column of billowing steam rose from a fissure in the rocky ground. The steam spread, darkening the skies above a small volcanic island in Iceland. The island was more of a rocky outcrop in the sea, no more than 50 yards across. Blistering heat from the crater warped my view of the small fissure’s depths. I was prepared for it, as an oceanic scientist should be, clad in a bulky deep sea heat suit.  The digital readout on my arm unit’s display told me it was 5,000 degrees in the crater’s center.

Sounds good, might as well check it out.

I repelled down, through the thick steam and into the fissure. I reached the floor of what I quickly realized was a cave partially filled with water. I stopped and gaped a bit at the water’s surface. It shimmered with a purple iridescence. Small fish darted about the rocks in the shallows. I noticed a dive knife on a nearby rock and put it in my belt. Might be useful.

I waded out into the water. It didn’t seem to be hot at all anymore, so I sank down, submerging myself. An incredible kaleidoscope of blues and purples flowed around me. The water illuminated  an underwater tunnel so I followed it. The tunnel continued for a bit before the floor came up and opened into another chamber. I surfaced to discover the water was only a couple feet deep. On each side of the chamber were rows of alcoves, each holding a sunken boat still on its trailer. The alcoves continued for 100 yards down the cavern’s walls. The glittering illumination from the water let me see each alcove had a boat. There must have been dozens.

The boat chamber eventually ended with another underwater tunnel, so I continued. The water’s light abruptly ended at the entrance to the tunnel and I swam on, awkwardly in my suit, into the darkness. It soon felt like the tunnel had opened up, and I turned on the lights mounted on the top of my dive helmet. A huge underwater cave appeared. Pillars of volcanic rock supported the domed ceiling.

I hardly noticed all this, however, because my lights had revealed something else. One million sleeping sharks. I could have counted them all, but I didn’t have to. I knew there was one million exactly. The bright blue sharks carpeted the cave floor, gently swaying back and forth with the current. I froze, and started to back out very slowly.

Hoooolllly shit. I’m out of here.

They started to wake up, shaking themselves out of a deep sleep. It didn’t take long for them to notice me and start gliding through the water in my direction. I frantically looked around for something with which to defend myself. I reached below me and grabbed a few rocks off the floor. Each rock I hurled at the approaching sharks moved through the water at an excruciatingly slow pace.

Oh right, it’s underwater. This isn’t going to work very well.

I retreated through the tunnel into the boat cave and stood up in the shallow water. All light coming from the water had been extinguished and not even my helmet lights could penetrate its surface now. Shark fins knifed up through the surface and began to circle me. Occasionally one would brush up against my legs and feet. They seemed more curious than hostile. I wasn’t afraid. I gently tried to push them away. I took the knife off my belt, but didn’t use it’s razor sharp edge. There was no need to hurt them. Instead I kept the knife’s tip down and just tried to nudge them away.


The one and only church left in Jerusalem was burning. Towering flames lit the sky and illuminated crowds of people in the street. Most were celebrating the inferno. I walked into a nearby museum and into its massive marble floored lobby. Dozens of cameras mounted on the walls snapped photos of me from every angle, checking to see if I was a terrorist. Luckily, I was not.

I passed through the museum and out the back to a large, mostly vacant airfield. My favorite professor was giving a lecture on warfare and today the class was being held inside a Learjet parked out on the airstrip. Kevin, Lucas, and Melissa were attending the class with me. We filed into the jet and I made my way through the small group of other students to take a seat in the back, buckling myself into the leather chair. I could see a small river flowing by the airfield outside my window.

We watched with growing concern as the banks overflowed and water started flooding into the airfield and under our plane.

The professor stood at the front of the jet but hadn’t started his lecture yet. Not many of the students seemed interested anyway, as they were all talking about the dam upstream on the  river. A large flow of water was scheduled to be released down the river and was predicted to flood a local baseball field. We all though that was a terrible idea, as it would probably ruin the game scheduled to be played that night. As if on cue, the river began to rise and was soon flooding much more severely than we had predicted. We watched with growing concern as the banks overflowed and water started flooding into the airfield and under our plane.

It became apparent that the water wasn’t going to carry us away, so we kept calm. That calm was soon sundered as one of the students pointed out the window. “Oh no, the dam!” The river’s water level surged and headed straight for the airfield.  The current swept under the jet and began to carry it away. I reacted quickly, rushing to the front of the jet and shutting the door just as it was about to be inundated. The jet bobbed up and down in the water as we headed down what was now a massive river. A light sprinkle of rain started, quickly turning into a constant downpour. Waves began to grow larger with each passing moment.

Lucas decided this was a perfect time to start messing around and jump up and down on the plane, seeing if he could get it to flip over. “Stop being stupid and fucking around,” I yelled at him. “You’re going to make us tip over and drown!”

The jet bobbed up and down in the water as we headed down what was now a massive river.

The flood current turned and we started heading straight for a giant air hanger on the edge of the field. Tower walls of water rose before the jet, dwarfing our makeshift boat. I grabbed the controls and somehow managed to force the jet around to hit the waves head on. It was our only chance to prevent capsizing. A tall chain link fence stuck out of the water in front of us and I called out to the rest of those on board.

“Brace yourselves!”

“Brace yourselves!” The plane plowed through the fence without even a jostle.

“Did you just say brace yourselves?” Melissa asked incredulously. She thought it was a truly ridiculous thing to say.

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. I decided to embrace it and took it to the next level, shouting out like a pirate. “All right me ‘arties! This be it! This storm be rougher’n your mother’s arse!”

Everyone laughed.

Note: Hey, only 4 months between posts this time. Progress. I’ve got tons of dreams recorded in a backlog, it’s just a measure of typing them up.




The whining, rumbling echoes of several motorcycles rebounded off the cavern walls around me.  I was in a mine shaft, cold and dark except for small pools of light spilling from lanterns sporadically spaced along the walls.  The biker gang had been chasing me for what seemed like hours, and they were catching up.  With no choice left, I stood to the side and hid behind a wooden support column.

The sound of a throttled engine grew louder from down the tunnel, and I crouched in anticipation.  As the biker came into view around a corner I leaped, thrusting my foot out in a vicious ninja kick that launched him from his seat and into the wall with a crunch.  Barely pausing as I landed, I picked up the bike and jumped on, twisting the accelerator hard for more speed.  The rest of the gang was in close pursuit.

Lanterns on the tunnel walls blurred past as I accelerated to extreme speed.  The motorcycle began to shake violently.  The wheels suddenly flew off and the handlebars came apart in my hands.  I cringed, awaiting the brutal crash, but it didn’t come.  I continued flying down the dark tunnels, the now silent and dead engine the only thing beneath me.  I realized I didn’t need the motorcycle at all, I could fly!  The  concentration required to stay aloft was intense.

There were no more lanterns now, but I could still barely make out my course through the mostly straight tunnel via the glowing veins of amethyst minerals in the walls. Soon I caught a faint glimpse of daylight ahead.  The tunnel was ending.  As I blasted out of the end of the tunnel, I rescued an old friend sitting stranded on the mountainside.  She clung to my feet and we flew off, now at a much slower pace with the added passenger.

With a jolt of inspiration, I realized I could collect water from clouds around myself, forming a water bullet that propelled me at super speeds.  My friend and I could still breathe easily in the water, and we used my new water bullet flying technique to scream over the countryside at supersonic velocity.

In short time I was flying over the ocean alongside an African port.  I skimmed just above the water and reveled in the exhilaration.  I whipped up over a large cargo ship, its deck covered in many different colored containers.  Descending once more to fly just above the water’s surface I noticed some large fishing nets in the water. Seabirds took to the air as we approached. With growing concern I watched the birds begin to lift the nets out of the water directly in our path.

There was no way to avoid the nets, and they enveloped us as we flew into them.  My friend somehow managed to escape their grasp, but my hands became knotted in tough nylon strands and I was dragged down into the water.  A nearby fishing boat began hauling in the nets.

We were caught.  These weren’t fishermen, they were pirates, and they were intent on chopping up our body parts for sale on the black market. They hauled me into the boat and looked down at me with malevolence.  I lay huddled, soaking wet with a hole in my shirt. They thought I was poor.

At this point the dream inexplicably changed to third person, with me observing everything like it was a movie.  I was no longer “me”.  Instead a late teens/early-20’s kid replaced me.

The pirate captain raised his machete and asked one of his several prisoners who would be missed the most.  Snatching the young man’s arm, the corsair slammed him up against a shipping container. Whatever answer to the pirate’s query that may have been coming was interrupted by the violent descent of the machete into the cringing man’s head. A fountain of blood cascaded down the victim’s face, nearly as terrifying as the scream that issued from his lips. The captain savagely ripped the machete back out and struck again.

Instead of spraying yet more blood from a grievous wound, the kid’s head began to turn black as soot. What had so recently been a smug look on the captain’s face turned to one of utter confusion. The kid no longer screamed, but seethed with anger. He grabbed the pirate’s wrist and squeezed. Acrid smoke curled up where the fingers grasped and before the captain could speak his skin was graying to ash and flaking away.  Without a sound, the captain’s charred body collapsed to the ground.

Now fully healed of the machete wound, the enraged youth calmly walked from one shocked captor to another, briefly touching them. With each  touch a pirate burst into flame and was reduced to ash. Buildings joined in the inferno and struggled to reach a heat as intense as the young man’s rage. Turning, the kid noticed a battalion of soldiers drilling on a parade ground beyond a nearby chain link fence. Their feet struck the pavement in perfect unison as they marched, clapping hands to rifles.

The fury boiling within the man reached a point beyond heat. It chilled with a cold to freeze magma. A raging blizzard picked up around him and somewhere in a distant corner of his mind he realized the very weather was his to command.

He extended his arms to the sky and black roiling clouds simply appeared. With a violent thrust of his hand, columns of lightning erupted from the heavens, plummeting down into the soldiers. White hot death split the air as thunder threatened to crush everything near. When the lightning finally cleared nothing remained of the soldiers, only a scorched patch of barren earth.

His revenge sated, the young man lowered his arms. “This is a fishing town, they should have no problem,” he said.

And with a blast of wind he took to the skies.