Dream Bubble Misadventures

It's midday by the time you meander out of your room and up to the rooftop, fishing rod in hand. For once, you aren't clasping your blade like your life depended on it, ready to vanquish those drones that have a hit on your head. No, nothing is gonna try to kill you today. You smile just a tad, relishing this moment as the sea breeze caresses your sun-kissed face. No, you refuse to believe this atmosphere is suspiciously picturesque and only an odd daydream.

Something, however, something is nagging at you. You aren't sure what it is. The sky is the softest shade of blue. You can't imagine it will open up and betray you, showing how very wrong you are. How very misguided you are.

Taking a breath, reminding yourself to remain calm, you swing your legs over the edge of the building. Such a grand view from way up here. You can almost see the ocean.

At every angle. Everywhere.

You're sleepy, you're mind is numb. Your current of thought has gone stagnant and it's frustrating, but you know pushing yourself will only bring on a headache you don't need. Fishing is supposed to bring you respite, an opportunity to cast your troubles away in the pursuit for a great catch. Besides, the ramen is getting a little old. You figure adding a bit of flavor from the sea won't hurt.

You lift up and cast your rod, wait. What? The seagull just vanished out of nowhere, and whoa holy shit. The whole area around you is morphing, from a bright clear sky to rust colored clouds floating above.

What the fuck is going on. You stand, watch the environment evolve and dismantle before your eyes, since that's pretty much all you can do once you realize you're stranded on a erratic tide of possibilities. In other words, this is a dream bubble and you took you this long to notice. Why?

Twisting gears, steam, waterfalls of lava? Colors shimmer. The scene continues to change. You wish there was a way to control this better. Only fragments of your sector remain. You wonder who you will meet next, if anyone.

You glance down and see the fishing rod still in your hand, now useless.

"Well, what now?"

You wait, even if you rather not. Someone is bound to show up, right?

You figure that you've probably been roaming this 'shit loada lava' land for about 20 minutes or so before you spy a centain Di Stri. Sure, it suprised you to see one of your best friends, and current holder of an AR that you are rather fond of. You spot the fishing rod that's held in his grip, it confuses you. You don't really know of any fish that can swim in lava.

But what confuses you more is how you ended up here. You remember being the awesome gamer that you are, playing Frogger on your Atari, when suddenly everything started to shift. Now, you've had more than a few alchoic bevrages today, but this is the first time like this has ever happened. You had closed your eyes in attempt to get the room to stop swirling like a motherfucker, but when opened, you were in this place.

Welp.

As said before, you had walked around for awhile, searching for at least something. And then you found it.

"Hey Dirk!" Your words slur as shout across from a platform opposit him. You aren't sure if there is any point in doing this, since there seems to be no apparent way for you to get across. Oh well, at least you're not alone now. Right?

Suddenly, clear as a bell, you hear her voice. That chimerical, raspy exclaim has got to be her. And once you look up, your own eyes confirm it.

"Rox." You mutter under your breath, gritting your teeth, because watching her stumble along is like witnessing a duckling waddle into the jaws of a beastly crocodile. Yet at the same time, aside from the apprehension, you also feel glad.

You nod to her in acknowledgment, your expression stiff, waving. Mentally, you assess the distance between the two platforms, wearily analyzing the pool of magma that separates you both. You can make that jump easy. Or at least you soon shall see.

"Roxy, wait. Don't move. Stay there, and I'll come to you."

You take a few steps back, focused on the leap you're about to attempt, legs building up momentum.

Hold up, but this is a dream bubble, so does that mean-- you launch yourself over there, and wouldn't you know, you're flying. Floating, like fucking Prancer on Christmas Eve. You ace that landing perfectly. Man, did you look so cool gliding over the lava.

"Fancy seein' you here. What's going on? Taking another nap, I presume. I guess this is the hot spot in the subconscious these days."