Bio Creeyncaggii Dream Story Index

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Story
You have a strange, fleeting dream as you wake. You are making a stand at a coastline encircled by otherworldly storm, firing upon a black leviathan amongst men you believe to be kin. It's so vivid you can feel the roar of the cannons vibrating in your spine.
You are submerged in a sea of what looks like TV static. It is thick to the point you cannot see your hands in front of your face, but you make out faint shapes in the distance. Then you wake up.
You have a memory, or something that feels like one, of being swarmed shoulder to shoulder by the undead horde. But you are not in danger. With every flinch and movement you make, you turn dozens into a thick red-black paste. There is hardly any effort involved, the culling comes naturally.
In your dreams you see someone you are certain you have never met before, but they feel like an old comrade. Their armor shines like the sea, but it isn't armor at all. The plates move as they breathe.
In a plane of white noise, you float blindly. A silhouette approaches, and you see more following it as it comes near. Some humanoid, some not. Then you awake.
All you can remember about your dreams are gunfire, louder than anything you have ever experienced. Such a sensory overload that it drowns out what you were shooting at.
You see a skyline on fire, awash in a thin orange haze. You see metal cities the size of mountains. You see countryside adorned with the skeletons of long dead war-machines. You see an army of black, withered abominations howling and crawling over each other. You awake with your jaw clenched and your new heart beating rapidly.
Your dreams end with the view of the skeleton of a massive superstructure, once mighty and beautiful, now picked clean to the foundation. The wind blows through it's window-holes and the valley is filled with song.
You dream of a void of noise. It surrounds you. You suddenly spy a figure you cannot make out the features of. They are massive and broad-shouldered, sitting atop a gun as large as their torso, next to what you believe is a bonfire of rebar and molten slag. Then you wake up.
A frighteningly coherent dream stirs you awake: You cling to the roof of a ramshackle but sturdy rig, its engine screaming with effort as it tears through a great desert. Lightning flashes at the corners of your vision to illuminate the distended bodies of fleshy blimps, as big as castles. The rig is cornered and you dive from it onto its attackers - you need no weapon, as your body is one.
You dream you are taking part in a ritual, or ceremony of some sort. You are led to an altar that appears more like a surgical bed, by priests adorned in green cloaks. The cloaks do little to hide the bulk of their steel bodies underneath.
You have run out of ammo. Gripping the searing-hot barrel of your weapon, you swing it with great force at the undead monsters closing in on you. When your vision clears and the barrel has cooled, both the monsters and the weapon have been smashed to a pulp. Then you wake up.
You lift up your arm, taking in the weight of its heavy plating and the power of its servos. You lift up your other arm, and watch as it unfolds at your whim, exposing the railgun that you feel throbbing like an organ. You then lift up your third arm, and then your fourth, and then you awake with a start.
You dream of a slender figure in the darkness, head adorned with a scarf and hands tipped with blades. They greet you with a bow, their skeletal frame showing off flexibility that people of flesh could never accomplish.
A giant, mechanical centipede with red eyes addresses you in your dreams, but you register none of their words. You awake after they extend an appendage to your chest.

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