More O' That Sweet, Science Fiction Flavor
This dream has no definite beginning or end. The earliest image I can access from the dream is a third-person view of me peering out through a window from inside a stone keep. A battle carries on outside.
In eerie narration of the dream, a voice remarks resonatingly off the castle walls about the summary destruction of the goblin hordes who laid seige. At the same time my vision falls on the castle courtyard which separates my window from the battle, and encircles a smoldering mountain of goblinoid corpses.
I wish I had recorded this dream three days ago, because then I'd be able to recount the contents of the narrative about the goblins to you. I remembered the narrative for a few hours upon waking, and planned to transcribe it immediately, but didn't. Or, actually, couldn't.
Anyways, from my window I return my attention to the interior of the room I'm in. It has the opulence of a kings' chamber. The realization dawns on me: It is a kings chamber. It is the sovereign king's bedchamber and adjoined washroom. And I'm in there to fetch something important on the kings behalf.
Dispatched to secure his family heirlooms on my person, I begin overturning array after gaudy array of cushioned trays and velvet-lined drawers. The contents having been spilled onto the washroom countertops, I proceed to pick the objects specified for me to retrieve out from the ensuing jewelry heaps. These I will restore to the kings possession upon reuniting after the seige has ended -- wherever and when we finally reunite. I suppose myself the king's most exceeding loyal retainer and servant, and pursue my instructions with fiery determination.
Meanwhile I'm wary of sounds that occur inside the castle's interior. I hear footsteps and scrapings, almost undetectable against the backdrop of war. I don't actually encounter them, but the dream sends glimpses of my enemy flashing through my subconscious.
My enemies look like wraithlords out of Tolkien's saga: dark, ethereal, foreboding. It's imperative I act & retreat from the chamber quickly, as if at any time the seiging forces might penetrate the castle defenses.
I then prepare to depart the chamber, having collected every item specified in my instructions from the bedchambers. While leaving I spy a niche in the chamber walls. Two black, iron swords are propped up against one corner. One sword on the smallish, the other immense.
The closing scene portrays a starkly determined me, slashing the smaller of the two blades through the air in mock combat making mental vows to gain proficiency and someday graduate to the bigger blade. Just then the king storms into the room and clamors up the nearby stairwell dismayed. He is Tom Wolfe incarnate in my dreams, who is the dad in a family that's very special to me.