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Aliens in charge
I'm with a group of people that was rounded up; I don't recognize or know any of them. We're in a building that resembles an elementary school, rooms like classrooms, some big open areas where we eat and sleep. We're prisoners in this place. We don't see our keepers, the only contact we have with them is voices coming at us over the PA system. We're not allowed to speak to one another except brief exchanges having to do with our assigned tasks. There are cameras everywhere and if someone breaks a rule-and there are a lot of rules-they're taken away for "training" by a unit of black-uniformed beings. The beings are fairly short, squat, and have leathery skin with a greenish-brown tinge. They wear helmets so we don't see their features.

I'm tasked with making Christmas/greeting cards, along with a large group of prisoners. Even though it seems like a stupid thing to do, I don't say anything and set about doing the task. There are human "masters" circulating about the room, ensuring we don't speak and that we follow the rules. I don't have much respect for these humans because I feel like they're collaborators who sold the rest of their people out for their own safety. Yet I keep my head down and my mouth shut. It's imperative that I don't attract attention to myself so I'm a good little drone, doing what I'm told to do and cowering just like the others.

Somehow, though, I screw up the cards. I don't color them exactly how the "masters" think I should. I try to correct the mistake but the "master" still isn't pleased. She signals for me to be taken for training on the proper way to do the cards. No. Training is out of the question. It might reveal the truth and I can't risk that. Even if I end up dead, I can't let them take me for training. I leap to my feet, push the "master" so hard she falls down, and bolt from the room. Behind me I hear the sounds of scuffling and cheering.

I skid around a corner and almost run smack into the Warden, who is on its way to the workroom. This being is wearing a black uniform but no helmet so I can see its face. Sort of squashed features with a thatch of greenish-brown hair atop its head. It doesn't seem surprised to see me. Says, Of all of them, I suspected you the most. You tried to hard too fit in but I knew it wouldn't last. I don't reply. I'm too busy thinking of an escape route. The Warden signals his escort to capture me. Oh, hell no. Not going to happen. I pull energy from the Mother and down from Source, gold and silver energy, and fling the energy at the Warden and his escort. They fly backwards from the force of impact, hit the floor, and lie there, unmoving. I'm on the move before I can find out if they're dead or merely stunned. Either way, I'm dead if they capture me. Got to keep moving, got to buy myself some time.

Jump to I'm in a basement or sub-basement. Gloomy and with shadows everywhere. I'm silently moving from shadow to shadow. Listening for other movement. Watching for any unnatural lights. I'm looking for a particular place. I know it's down here, I just have to find it.

I hear noise off in the distance. Running out of time. I have got to find the place I seek before I'm captured or it's game over for me. I slip behind some machinery, slide between more machinery, and melt into a corridor that's completely dark. I use my tracking sense to keep from plowing into a wall or making unnecessary noise. Follow the corridor some ways until I come to a doorway. The door is missing but there are wooden planks across the doorway that prevent me from entering. I can see someone sleeping in a hammock inside the room. He's familiar to me. We've worked together a long time. I mentally "nudge" the sleeper. He doesn't rouse. I "nudge" a bit harder: C'mon, dude, wake the hell up!

He suddenly sits up in the hammock. Looks directly at the doorway. I feel his pleasure at seeing me. He starts to speak. I put my finger to my lips and motion for him to shush. In the distance, I can hear the pursuit coming closer to the corridor entrance. He throws his head back and roars, a deep bass sound that I feel in my very soul. The roar rolls down the corridor and into the pursuers. There's a pause in their pursuit. They understand what that roar represents. I sigh and shake my head. Then he shifts to his true form, that of a large black dragon. He plows through the doorway and part of the wall as if it didn't exist. I move to stand by his side. It's showtime, I say.

There was no intention for this dream.

Despite the setting and situation, my feeling was one of determination. I was there for a reason and was prepared to fight if necessary.

For the past few years, the black dragon has shown up in my dreams, usually when I find myself in a bad situation. He's handy to have around, believe me.

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