[ WP ] You possess the ability of persistent lucid dreaming . Accompanied by a strange man/woman , together you build a world you revisit every night . One day you see them at a coffee shop . You immediately recognize each other .

The air is thick, choked with moisture. The storm coming is almost overwhelming, a wall of wind and thunder bearing down upon my motley band of mercenaries and myself. 
 
 But it's the storm within the storm I'm most afraid of. We form the vanguard of the retreating Western Soldatis Imperial Army, placed here as a stopgap against the Night Horde. A speedbump, I think wryly to myself as the first blast of driving rain crashes into us, flashes of lightning revealing ghostly images of the Night Horde within, tattered banners of fallen legions waving madly in the wind. 
 
 The front rank shudders. They know this mission is suicide. I move up and down the rank on Selenmare, mud splashing up from her hooves already, the ground slick. But she's used to that, though typically it's the slick of blood. 
 
 `` Men,'' I shout to make myself heard over the thunder, `` I promised you treasure and fame!'' 
 
 There is an uncomfortable shuffling. My men are here as a courtesy to me at this point, wavering, ready to flee. No mercenary truly wants to lay down their lives. 
 
 `` I know this struggle seems fruitless...'' there are a few murmurings of assent `` but today I fulfill that promise.'' 
 
 Curiosity, now, and I fumble in my robe. For one sickening lurching instant I think I reach for nothing, but then I will it to be where it ought to and I pull the Sunstone free. Blazing light pierces the darkness, and the rain even seems to abate a little, a beam of sunlight reaching through the clouds like a ray of dawn. 
 
 The men gawk. `` I thought the Sunstone was destroyed in the marshes of Guildor!'' my lieutenant says, astonished. 
 
 I smile and wink. 
 
 `` I made it appear as such, or it would never stop being hunted for.'' 
 
 `` Now,'' I say, with hard eyes and renewed determination. `` Today we were meant to hold the line, meant to die to buy the Soldatis some time. But I say we go one further. We rout the Night Horde, here, at Greienmar pass. We take their plunder for ourselves, and when the Soldatis army returns with its tail between its legs we arrive shortly after with victory in our breath!'' 
 
 The men cheer, and I wheel around to face the Night Horde. At its head stands Chalcedon, my old foe, his ancient and daemonic armor making him stick out like a sore thumb amongst his horde, oozing darkness like a wound in the world. He raises his arm. Anticipation thickens the air. He lowers it and a cavalcade of arrows darkens the sky. 
 
 I hold the sunstone aloft and the arrows are burned away. 
 
 `` CHAAAAAARGE,'' I scream, leading the way. My men, screaming likewise, follow. 
 
 Then I wake up. 
 
 `` Motherfucker, every time,'' I mutter to myself as I sit up in bed. The morning routine follows, as it does every morning, except Saturdays wherein I wake up at 10:30 rather than 8 and Sundays where I awaken at 11. 
 
 Shower. Shave. Brush teeth. Put on pants, tuck in shirt, consider which of my two belts I'll wear today. Pick up two bottled waters for work. 
 
 I trudge towards the office. I'm early, a little, today, and the dreaming has left me tired. I stop at my favorite coffee shop, why not. 
 
 Chalcedon asks me if I want sugar. 
 
 What. 
 
 Chalcedon repeats the question. 
 
 He's wearing his armor. His voice still sounds like crushing gravel and bone. Vaguely, I try to will him away. Must still be dreaming. 
 
 He smiles. It makes me feel filthy, like I've been drenched in vomit. 
 
 `` I see you've seen through my disguise, but as always I brush aside your feeble magicks.'' 
 
 I gawk, barely managing to duck aside as the counter more-or-less explodes, Chalcedon striding through it even as he draws his mighty blade. I realize, slowly, that the coffee shop is empty of all but I and my dream nemesis. 
 
 `` I had hoped to end this quickly, with a touch of poison, but it seems that I am weaker in your world also,'' Chalcedon grunts. 
 
 `` But cease to dream, now, and trouble me no longer,'' he says, raising his blade. 
 
 **Shit. **
