[ Barret looks different than usual. Might be that he's a little younger ... might be his arms mirror each other, no gun arm to speak of. Though it's not easy to see him too clearly in the dim light of the mineshaft, the swing of his arms is evident as a pickaxe rises and falls.

Work, work, work--it's the kind of repetitive work that you could fall asleep after a full day and dream you're still doing, and that's exactly what going on. But there's a little twist in this dream ... one where he strikes just the right rock and a few more crumble, revealing something unexpected but welcome. He turns around and yells, what seems far too loud in a coal shaft. ]

Ha! Git a load of this! Those Shinra bigwigs are gonna be besides themselves.

[ Because what he's found is a sign that Corel is indeed plenty abundant in potential mako ... the tranquil, lazy glow of a natural mako fountain. ]

[As summer starts to peak, the beach is a great place to be, and it's bustling. Everything for a day of fun is here: nets for volleyball, plenty of people swimming or sunning themselves, kids chasing or running away from the waves, sand castles, and... a giant igloo.

Somehow, the beach-goers seem to accept this. The snowy dome digs stubbornly right into the sand, arrogantly ignoring the beating heat of the sun like a challenge. The very air around it radiates cold. Catchy pop music with sly lyrics comes from inside, where it's cold enough for the workers to wear parkas and ice skates.

The workers make graceful looping designs as they skate the food to the customers - ice cream in very distinct flavors: "Sailor Mercury" (blueberry with a hint of blackberry), "Sailor Mars" (strawberry and cherry, quite strong), "Sailor Jupiter" (mostly a mix of mints with a touch of watermelon), "Sailor Venus" (peach and mango), and even "Sailor Moon" (rainbow sherbet).

There's a second, personal igloo nearby. There, just outside its entrance, Mizuno Ami is relaxing on the beach. She deserves it. She reclines lazily on a low chair, book in hand, with a small basket of sandwiches nearby and even a tropical fruit drink right within her grasp.

A small crowd vies for the sunbather's attention, admiring her swimsuit (a modest but stylish one-piece), inviting her to join a game, showing off their own efforts, or offering ice cream. All in all? Perfect.]

At a glance, this just seems to be a normal and peaceful dream. The sky is a bright blue color that seems to expand on forever. The green grass sways with a gently and comforting wind that passes through and the sound of water flowing through the creeks adds to the music that nature has created. There are trees off in the distance. The huge canopy of green is held up by the strong brown trunks and it casts a shadow to cool yourself from.

But something is amiss. ... There's something not right with this dream.

Upon further inspection, you notice that the grass is in fact not grass. It's long tubes of green pixie stix that you can pluck from the ground and devour. The water is actually blue kool-aid and the rocks around it are upside down cups you can scoop the liquid and drink. The tree trunks are actually made of chocolate that never melts holding up text book leaves that sway back and forth, flipping pages of college material that may or may not have to do with science and math.

...what the heck kind of dream is this? And where is the dreamer?

Where you appear in her dream doesn't seem to harbor any clues but if you search you'll sure find her. Perhaps she's laying in the field of wheat and mint staring at the sky or maybe she's under a tree munching on some chocolate and reading a book she may have plucked from a tree. But somewhere in this dream scape, she is alone. In this dream of childish whims and light, she keeps to herself. No one to talk to or to keep her company.

Will you be the one to relieve her loneliness?

[The road, if it can be called a road, is narrow.  So narrow that it would be hard to walk along it facing forward instead of sideways.  To both sides there's a drop off that seems to go down forever, layers of shadows and tendrils of mist that float disturbingly deep in that darkness.  Mountains rise on either side, catching the moonlight and showing cracks of pale blue and silver white but they're too far away too touch, their forms jagged and sharp in the night.  The path winds and twists back on itself, crumbling at the edges, hairpin turns and broken snake backed twists, a giant's dropped spool of gray thread leading upward.  Always upward.  In the empty night something's creaking, like old wood, loose and dry, the protest of frayed rope a higher counterpoint even if there is no wood or rope to be seen.  Just the gravel path, the moonless sky pin pricked with stars and the foreboding guardian mountains.  The wind's cold and sharp as it washes through the pass, and it cuts on each inhale, stealing away the warmth of exhales and turning them to white clouds promising snow.  It's an empty world, alone and lonely, coming from darkness and vanishing into darkness again.

Until the vibrating roar of an engine.

It starts quiet but the rumbling growl grows in volume quickly.  Something's coming.  Fast.  There's a light like an approaching star, falling too fast to be real, switching back and forth on the back trail, light vanishing on the turns before glowing even bright with each new appearance.  There's the skid and slip of gravel falling down into the endless night, whispering against the sides of the road as it falls and the sound of the engine is a purr, a warning, an inevitability. 

Run? 

To where?

There's not even a side to step off to.

The approaching form takes shape, slick, sleek black gunmetal with the stars washing silver over it and it doesn't care, a wolf on tireless feet as it speeds out of the darkness.  Run, walk, stand and wait.  There's no difference to it and no slow in it's breakneck approach.  One moment it's there and then, suddenly, it's here.  There's a flash of gold, of blue and of eerie, misplaced green as the motorcycle roars straight through -

And Cloud Strife suddenly acquires a new passenger.  A new package.  PC it's been marked in Tifa's clear handwriting.  Precious Cargo.  It's his job to see it safely delivered and Fenrir's engine thrums as the bike leans and sways down that impossible, narrow forever road into night.  Cloud's body moves with the bike as if they're one and the same, taking the insane turns at an insane speed, sometimes shifting the bike so far on it's side to make a turn that it's a straight look all the way down into the mist and falling dark.  Against the cold, he's warm and as solid as the mountains that never seem to pass on either side.  But Fenrir's tires skid in the gravel and the wind doesn't like sharing the road with anyone else. 

Hang on tight.  It's going to be one hell of a ride.]

ooc:: anyone up for a little midnight ride? I'm back and catching up so posts will be slow at the beginning but pick up as I go.  Feel free to be the one latched suddenly on to our intrepid delivery boy or come up with your own approach.  Just realize he's not slowing down.  Adults in the back, smaller kids in the front for the ride.  And with that in mind - Cloud's got a weakness for kids.  Feel free to age your characters down physically or even mentally for this.  Trust us - you're in good hands.  He's a professional after all...

[ To think his dreams might resemble, to the outside viewer, a pleasant storybook reality is purely offensive - but for this one, in particular, there are few more apt descriptors. The sun shines bright, high overhead on this perfectly Spring day, and the world below is all warm, flowering meadow and leafy green forest as far as the eye can see. The terrain is a bit rocky in places, of course, and occasionally ends in a dangerous-looking drop-off, but that's the trouble of living on the mountainside.

At least it makes for some rather breathtaking views - though the dreamer of this rather ordinary (patently unimaginative) dream has no interest in sightseeing, himself. ]

Oi! Over there, don't go wandering off!

[ Scattered throughout the clearing above one rather low, unmenacing cliff edged with wildflowers, a pack of wolves are at rest, at play. His pack, over whom he watches, diligently, businesslike even in his habitually casual style of dress and bare feet. And it's to the stranger on the edge of this clearing that he calls, an individual he would not recognize in the waking world, but for now who his rational subconscious attempts to disguise as a familiar face. Just another member of the group. Family. ]

You know it's dangerous this time of year with humans in the forest.

[ooc: For his intro, Souichi will be seeing any visitors as "wolves" (kemonomimi like him) because he doesn't like change. But immersion in the dream is totally optional (i.e. characters can be entirely themselves and confused by all of this, or aware of having ears and a tail, or just be chill and go with the flow). Play it literally any way you like. ♥]

AVALANCHE, a four-man team at the moment with Barret leading, reach the 05 reactor with the Shinra tower rising up behind. He pauses, glowering at it before setting about the night's agenda: blowing this reactor sky-high. They already got one, but they gotta keep momentum up. They keep going this way, bit by bit, and President Shinra himself will have his fatass come tumbling down.

There's resistance, but they get in easy, him and Biggs and Wedge and Jessie. Tifa and Cloud? Missing: someone's mad at a spiky-headed fool asking for money that had to come out of Marlene's future schooling. He'd rather not need that idiot and in the dream, he doesn't. The bomb is set: ten minutes to get themselves out before the ka-boom. Easy. Waaay too easy.

So when Shinra sends a giant arachnid robot after them, Barret isn't surprised that they're being attacked or even that Shinra's using some weird freaky-ass spidey-bot to do it. Hell, yesterday it was a damn scorpion. Nah. What gives him the creeps is that the thing looks so much like a real spider, down to having hairs on its legs. That's just messed up. And that, when they flee the reactor to get away from both bomb and spider and the Shinra tower comes in sight again, the top of it's vibrating like a vacuum. Finally -- when Barret looks back at the exit he just took -- "The hell?!" he yells. "What kind o' messed-up monster made that hole?!" It'd look like a mousehole if it wasn't bigger than him.

And the spider is coming out... into the living room, where the larger-than-life Barret is smaller than a real arachnid. But there's no time to think about that, or how the rest of his team's gone poof. Barret points his gunarm at it and opens fire with a flurry of bullets. His dreams might turn weird, but Barret himself is a straight shooter in thought and arm.

[ BE FUN-SIZE AND JOIN A BOSS BATTLE AGAINST A SPIDER. Be normal-size and wonder just what that sound is -- like gunfire, but since when is gunfire that quiet and high-pitched? Squash the spider, vacuum Barret up--or have your own sizing mishaps in this crazy house. Feel free to add on more rooms besides a living room, toss in roaming pets ... basically if it sounds fun to shrink your character, go for it.

This is pretty much an open post, so I'm game for threadjacks or people making their own scenarios! Barret's going to be bugging anyone he finds. I finally finished writing this! ]

Ignore this!!