Mountains, Mercenaries, and Maniacs

I was all by myself on a mountain in the middle of nowhere. Then I heard some disturbing news. What it was, I don't remember. It was something along the lines of "All flights are canceled from now on." However cloudy the issue was, the complication it caused me was crystal clear: I was stranded on the mountain. Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a voice (either from the past or present) inform me rather ominously that no one had ever survived that mountain without whatever it was that I lost. I was likely going to die.

But I decided to be an exception. I was going to make it down the mountain and live. So I walked to the edge of the cliff that represented the quickest escape and began to rappel down the face of the cliff. Of course, this was done with gear that randomly materialized. My rappelling technique (though it somehow worked) was definitely backwards... literally. I faced away from the face of the cliff and hopped down like some kind of moon bunny. It worked.

At the bottom of the cliff was a stream about six or seven feet wide. The voice in my head spoke again, reminding me that the most common cause of death on this mountain was hypothermia due to the harsh cold. Therefore, I had to do my best not to get wet. I prepared myself, sprinted, and leaped over the narrow band of water. It wasn't too far a jump, but just as I reached the other side the edge crumbled away in the current. I landed on the edge of the stream off-balanced and my dream-legs kicked in. Moving at a snail's pace, my lethargic efforts managed to propel me, completely dry, onto the other edge of the stream. Yet another obstacle overcome.

My next thought was that there shouldn't be anyone else on the mountain (because of the earlier dilemma). Dream law states that when a dreamer thinks that something could not happen, it will happen. I heard the sound of other men talking. I knew that since no law-abiding person would be on the mountain any more (why I thought this, I'm not sure ), I thought that theses must be mercenaries and outlaws. I was wrong.

Then things took an unusual turn. Instead of being greeted by mercenaries and outlaws, I was met by odd creatures with spears (I don't remember if they were human, but they appeared to sentient). As would be expected of large alien bipeds, they attacked me with their giant spears. Possessed by some Bourne-like martial arts skill, I snatched a spear from one of them and fought the group off.

From there, my dream jumped ahead to some building, where I was in some ventilation ducts with some unknown person, about to confront some evil overlord. The next thing I remember is attacking one of his minions, a little, flower-like thing that appeared to be made of some sort of foam. I had the distinct feeling that this overlord was not as powerful as I had been led to believe.

...and then I woke up. I never reached the bottom of the mountain, never figured out why I was in such peril, and never discovered the scheme of the maniacal genius. A rather anticlimactic to an especially odd dream. I feel my subconscious could do better.