Dracula R.I.P.

LiveJournal Tags: dreams

I woke up at around 4:35 a.m. from a nightmare involving Dracula's castle. Now, it's interesting fact: the Transylvanian castle commonly associated with Count Dracula, in fact has nothing to do with the historical figure of Vlad the Impaler, which relates to my dream in that it was not specifically about Dracula, but rather a much more frightening female antagonist, possibly the vampire Goddess Hectae. I can't go into many details, as they are hazy, but extra arms, talons, feathers and wings were involved.
Much like Jonathan Harker in Bram Stoker's novel, I was a prisoner of this castle, though I was not confined to my quarters. There was a creepy old man in robes who ensured I did not stray, and who held a near fanatical devotion to his vampire lady. He kept careful watch over me, ensuring me that his lady already knew of my careful indiscretions. Despite this, he kept himself to the floor above my own basement dwelling, and was seen mostly from doorways. He would never look right at me, but faced sideways as he spoke.
I was aware that others might be in the same predicament that I was, but I never saw them. The vampire lady was often away at night on hunts, and never showed herself during the day. During these absences, I would try to affect my escape. Escape was possible, but I was certain of being recaptured by the flying fiend, who would likely make me her next meal.
In time, I came to understand that the only way to escape my prison was to destroy it. Without her castle, she would have nowhere to return once the sun came up. To those ends, I discovered a cache of dynamite, which I planted in nook between the ceiling beams and the pillars supporting them. I heard warnings from the old man upstairs, but I was determined to see my plan through.
Even with the dynamite, I found I had nothing with which to light it. I had only one match, which went out before I could bring it to the string. By holding the head of the match to the wire, I was able only to scorch it a little. I made a desperate search for another source of flame. I tried scratching two rusty nails together to try and produce a spark, but it wouldn't work. I tried a flint and tinder set, but again to no avail. I had a feeling my time was growing short, and that the vampire would soon learn of my deeds when I was able to procure a small flame from a candle. Lighting this, I made a mad dash upstairs, where the old man shouted profusely at me.
Fearing the dynamite was wet, I set about a second plan. On the floor above the old man, I began to set furniture on fire, hoping to burn the castle down if I couldn't blow it up.
That's roughly where the dream ends...