Voices

In which insane and bloody doctors offer to change my appearance. I am picking up floor joists by myself and placing them in a third layer over the existing ones. "What are you doing?" asks my dad. I set down the thirty-foot piece of wood and gesture like it should be obvious. "We already did that," says <PERSON>, "We do not need any more." I look down, and realize that he is right. Oh. --- I am driving around Quickton, driving around all the cars that are parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. Did I mention that DCs are not allowed to drive anymore? --- I am wandering around Ixburg. It is night, and my surroundings feel very real. I look at my hand anyway, count my fingers. I count five, but my pinky finger is just a stub, and I know that I am dreaming. I go through my mental list of lucid goals, and decide that I will try to find <PERSON>. Only, I know exactly how this phase of the dream usually works out, so I decide to send her a message instead. I pull out my cell phone and send a text, asking where she is. I immediately get a reply. I put the phone to my ear and hear a female voice telling me that she is at the zoo. I tell her to stay there; I will try to come find her. "I am lucid, I am lucid." I mutter to myself, going over to the church doors that I am standing near. I pull them open, thinking, Lions and tigers and bears... I see a faint blue light, but when I step inside, I am still in Ixburg. I sigh. Obviously I am going to have to work on that "power of belief" thing. Whatever, the door thing has never worked for me. I am standing by a mirror and idly playing with my appearance, going for "more masculine" and "more feminine", back and forth, changing faces at random. My skin is starting to feel stretched too tight, though, and I step back from the mirror. A scalpel slices across my cheek, drawing blood. The girl holding it dances back, twirling happily around the room. I watch, unconcerned, as she and another, identical, girl come up to me and place their arms over my shoulders. I do not remember exactly what they say, but the consensus is that my shapeshifting abilities leave something to be desired. Amused, I allow myself to be led over to the bed and handcuffed to the headboard. The twins step back and make a grand gesture toward the door. An older woman appears, seemingly armed to the teeth with surgical tools. "I can help you gain any appearance you wish," she says. "What," I say, taunting, "No anesthesia?" "It is a dream. You do not need it." I pause for a second, and seriously consider the offer. "Nah," I say, freeing myself from the handcuffs with a thought. "I got this." The woman shrugs and disappears. I stand up and walk over to the closets that are in the room, looking for a grey suit. I do not know why I am looking for a grey suit, I just feel like wearing one. I try to make one appear in the one of the two closets, but fine-tuned dream control is not my forte. I am better at the "mass slaughter" kind of thing. The twins continue to try to be helpful, but I ignore them. I go over to the wall and stretch out a hand. I am trying to dissolve the dream, reach through the Void, and pull up a new location. I see spots where my hands are, and I think it is working. I reach forward - my hand bumps off of a very real, very solid feeling wall. I try again. It is not working. I wake up. Like a Surgeon. Scare Factor: 2.