Lucid Intent? No
This dream has been viewed 2364 times.
I am outdoors walking along a wooden bridge, but there is no river running under it, the water ran dry. I am walking with several other people whom in the dream I am associated with, thought they're not family. When we walk we leave a trail of dust in the air form all the other people who have walked across the bridge and left the mud from their boots to dry on the bridge. One very large man ahead of me has lost his shirt, and on either side of him he has swords and pistols. Someone runs past me, he's rangy but energetic, and quickly passes the rest of us. We're all pretty dirty, but I forget where we came from, I seem to remember we have been on a long journey and now we've gotten in some kind of trouble, and we're looking for a way back home.
We have to pass through a village that's like something out of a book. The houses are really little mud brick huts with straw roofs. The people around look like they're wearing clothes that had been discarded and maybe shipped from some other country, and they were using plastic bottles and cups that were all mismatched for fetching water. None of this scenery would have been out of place in one of those "save the starving children" infomercials, only there were not so many flies and no one seemed to actually be malnourished.
There was one very high roofed large covered area at some point. The area didn't have walls, but leather and maybe tarps flapping in the occassional breezes. I remember seeing a giant fan made from enormous feathers. I took a closer look and wondered what sort of bid these feathers could have come from. I couldn't resist taking one, and I think that's when the real trouble starts.
Seems like I should have left the feathers alone. The leader of this community rakes all of us together, and gives one of us a nearly impossible task to perform and in exchange, if he succeeded, we would be set free, but if not, we would be executed. I wasn't the one picked to perform the trick, but the feather I stole was part of it. The feather is made into a dart, and the rangy energetic guy was to stand on a wire suspended between two stakes, and hit a bulls eye. The target was very very close, but all of us were grumbling about how unfair this all was. Balancing on a wire and trying to throw a huge floppy feather at a target was practically impossible.
While our companion was trying to balance on the wire I look around feeling a little bored. Truth was we were only humoring the big fat guy who was treatening us. Did I mention he was a big fat guy? Oh, he was, and he walked around with a feathered crown some big clunky thing around his neck and a sort of multi-colored skirt, that was probably also from some foreign land.
I notice a can of grape juice. It's still in a metal can, with what looked like a very old lable. I picked it up and shake it. There was still a liquid in there, and maybe it was still okay to drink. I forget how I poked some holes in it, but I did, and I smelled it, and it didn't stink. Some of the juice from inside the can swells up onto the top of the can and mixed with the powdery rust. I drink it anyway. It tastes like grape juice. Then something about the can makes me realize something.
The big fat guy is not really the real boss around here. I finally realize that he can't speak the native language. I forget how I figured this out, but I use this to our advantage. I step up from my seat and confront the fat man and began to spout language-sounding goobley gook. The fat man begins to look nervous but he had no where to go. His attendants squint their eyes at him and begin to frown.
Somehow all this resolves into the natives realizing their king or whatever it is they called him here wasn't the real one, and they were pretty unhappy, and I cant' remember anything else from the dream.
It wouldn't be the first time I began to fake speaking a language. I seem to be good at that in dreams. A recurring element in this dream is feathers. Like coins, I can't resist picking them up.