On the third night of our break, I had a most peculiar dream.
I saw some odd letters floating about in that dream. Ships were sailing away and towrds the sunset; as dreams are funny things, I didn't find this odd.
Some sort of omniscient voice asked of me the time. I told him that the year was 1660, a time in which buccaneers were heroes. I didn't know what was going on but my dream self was apparently far off in the future.
I was an English buccaneer, a hero apparently. If the year was 1660, I would no doubt be towards my 80s, and yet, I was instead some young person!
The voice asked for my name. The name I gave to him was "Delial IV." Such an odd name.
I was a skilled gunner in that dream, capable of reloading any and all cannons in mere seconds.
I was an indentured servant as well. I had apparently gone to America as one.
A strange man rescued me from this. I was rather vague on the details when I wrote this down originally, but he was apparently a friendly sailor accepting runaways.
However, after joining the boat, they all became buccaneers instead. Confusing, dreams are; at least I remained on sea.
However, I was asked to fight the captain. However, the captain was simply me in separate attire.
I won and I was captain of the ship!
I had at this point teleported to Port Royale, a city I've never actually been to. Everything looked normal though.
The English governor requested that I destroy his enemies. He had stated that he was bored and wanted those opposing the English to suffer.
The tavernkeeper was kind, enjoying my story; he gave me a cup of grog at no cost for the voyage.
We set sail from Port Royale and immediately noticed just how easy it was to sail.
It was almost as if wind didn't exist and we were always going at great speeds.
However, there were no ships around. It was eerily quiet upon the sea.
As we crossed around territory I did not know of, a cartographer on the ship alerted me that we were entering Spanish territory.
With little food at that.
At this point, I can't tell if I was making things up or if I had transitioned to another dream. The seas became red, boiling with the smell of metal. Our sloop was stained with it. None of the crew actually noticed that as soon as we entered Spanish territory, the sea had become blood.
Our food supplies were quickly dwindling.
There was, luckily enough, a town nearby. The smell was bothering me as the red mists surrounding our ship grew denser.
This was the Spanish town of Campeche. My dream self, Delial the Fourth, found little odd of the green skies and the sea of blood flowing through the town. Instead, he seemed to give orders with only his mind to the crew; something about demons and Spanish. Even in dreams, my hatred of the Spanish shines through.
We began an attack on the town, sailing around and firing cannonballs at it. The sea around the town was not red but instead a black liquid of great viscousity. Our ship barely moved in it. In fact, the waves would occasionally sprout through the top layer, revealing yet more green. The black stained the red and brown ship.
A large flaming pillar erupted in the middle of the town, though it disappeared just as quickly.
We had finally made it when suddenly, walls sprouted up around the town. We climbed over the walls and I began the fight with the guard.
I apparently had all three swords on me at once; I mainly wielded the cutlass however. Or rather, I thought I was. It was a rapier called a cutlass.
I began the fight with yet another clone of me, though he was both demonic and Spanish in form. The fight ended badly.
I was put in jail and was told that the gallows were awaiting my neck in eight months.
Afterwards, I awoke in a cold swear. I began forgetting details as soon as I woke up so I wrote them all down for later viewing. Whatever I had eaten the night before was stricken from the list of edibles.