I once had a dream that was a multi-episode arc of Doctor Who. The Master, as Harold Saxon, was running this pretty creepy-ass amusement park/circus, and there were all these guests and he had the drums pounding in his head, and he was basically starting a murder spree. He'd taken all these child acrobats and basically frozen them as children and they were fighters. He's off taking over the world and I'm getting pretty pissed, 'cause the Doctor hasn't shown up and the Master's murdering people. I try to get close enough to talk to the Master but can't, so instead I run as far from the stage he's on as possible, toward the back of the circus while everyone runs to the exit. All these circus child demon things with sentient and non-sentient balloons that kill things are going wild but I just run straight through, to the back.
I find this little door and enter it, only to be in this sort of woods-area, at the foot of a treehouse. There's some mid-forties woman in there, but she's sick, seems to be dying. She has short, dark brown hair. I climb up the treehouse and try to talk to her as she's dying.
I try to leave, to keep walking, but the world looks a little strange, and as I try to leave the fifteen-foot area I suddenly see a painting. I realize it's a tapestry, and it's all covered in people, and I realize they're screaming. And I'm caught in the tapestry, in pain, screaming, pushing back until I manage to catapult myself out. I'm back at the treehouse, and I climb up to see the woman as she dies.
The woman is me.
I freak out and grab her journal, which she held out to me as she dies, and she suddenly falls off the treehouse and her body disappears. According to the journal, she ran out from the park and found this place, and has been here ever since, for thirty years or so. There are all these notes on nature things that she- I've taken over those years, but she stayed here for the rest of her life, unable to move forward and unwilling to go back.
I pocket the book and decide to honor her sacrifice, spending her life there to warn her younger self about what lies ahead, and return to the amusement park.
There is utter chaos, people dying, painted-white, clownlike children striking people down, and I stand there for a moment, watching the world die, when I hear something behind me, and I turn around.
It's the Doctor. It's Eleven, and he's got no obligation to this Master but he comes anyway, because he's the Doctor and this is the Master and he will always, always be there for him.
He's running, running, and he runs right by me, through the throng, and it takes me a minute before I start running after him.
I'm dodging so many things and so many people, until I get tripped, and I turn around and see one of the clown children, and I'm sure he's going to try and kill me and I'll have to fight until he points at something.
It's a balloon, bent to look like the moon.
It's a simple thing, but the kid is looking at it like it's some sort of miracle and I realize that this is just a child, a child who's lost his life and future and he's fallen in love with a balloon shaped like the moon. Then he looks at me, that same awe in his eye- he's the size of a grown person, they all are, but their minds are children's- and there's something like love in his eyes, like a boy's crush, I can tell he's asking me to stay but I can't, so I say, in the vague hope that this will be enough, "Maybe we'll be together some day."
Then I dash off, toward the front of the park.
The Master is on stage, clutching his head and screaming in pain, and the Doctor is beside him, trying to comfort him, asking the Master to let him help, because the Doctor will always be there to help the Master, and I climb onstage. I run to the machine next to the Master- it's like a piece from a roller coaster, a bunch of seats, but he's sending them not to the roller coaster but to their deaths, and I'm trying to save them and shouting words I can't hear myself think-
-then my mom wakes me up.
I legitimately had that dream, and it is probably the most unbelievable experience of my life. I remember it so, so clearly.
I find this little door and enter it, only to be in this sort of woods-area, at the foot of a treehouse. There's some mid-forties woman in there, but she's sick, seems to be dying. She has short, dark brown hair. I climb up the treehouse and try to talk to her as she's dying.
I try to leave, to keep walking, but the world looks a little strange, and as I try to leave the fifteen-foot area I suddenly see a painting. I realize it's a tapestry, and it's all covered in people, and I realize they're screaming. And I'm caught in the tapestry, in pain, screaming, pushing back until I manage to catapult myself out. I'm back at the treehouse, and I climb up to see the woman as she dies.
The woman is me.
I freak out and grab her journal, which she held out to me as she dies, and she suddenly falls off the treehouse and her body disappears. According to the journal, she ran out from the park and found this place, and has been here ever since, for thirty years or so. There are all these notes on nature things that she- I've taken over those years, but she stayed here for the rest of her life, unable to move forward and unwilling to go back.
I pocket the book and decide to honor her sacrifice, spending her life there to warn her younger self about what lies ahead, and return to the amusement park.
There is utter chaos, people dying, painted-white, clownlike children striking people down, and I stand there for a moment, watching the world die, when I hear something behind me, and I turn around.
It's the Doctor. It's Eleven, and he's got no obligation to this Master but he comes anyway, because he's the Doctor and this is the Master and he will always, always be there for him.
He's running, running, and he runs right by me, through the throng, and it takes me a minute before I start running after him.
I'm dodging so many things and so many people, until I get tripped, and I turn around and see one of the clown children, and I'm sure he's going to try and kill me and I'll have to fight until he points at something.
It's a balloon, bent to look like the moon.
It's a simple thing, but the kid is looking at it like it's some sort of miracle and I realize that this is just a child, a child who's lost his life and future and he's fallen in love with a balloon shaped like the moon. Then he looks at me, that same awe in his eye- he's the size of a grown person, they all are, but their minds are children's- and there's something like love in his eyes, like a boy's crush, I can tell he's asking me to stay but I can't, so I say, in the vague hope that this will be enough, "Maybe we'll be together some day."
Then I dash off, toward the front of the park.
The Master is on stage, clutching his head and screaming in pain, and the Doctor is beside him, trying to comfort him, asking the Master to let him help, because the Doctor will always be there to help the Master, and I climb onstage. I run to the machine next to the Master- it's like a piece from a roller coaster, a bunch of seats, but he's sending them not to the roller coaster but to their deaths, and I'm trying to save them and shouting words I can't hear myself think-
-then my mom wakes me up.
I legitimately had that dream, and it is probably the most unbelievable experience of my life. I remember it so, so clearly.