Leaving On A Jet Plane

My palms started to shake before we even left the boarding station.
I had never flown long distances before, not since I was very small and my father took me along to one of his conferences in LA. He used to work for a company called COBOL Industries, and he was required to go away a lot. When my mother had my younger sister, he finally quit his job and they moved to where I grew up. But that conference was the first and last time I had flown through different timezones. I had been only 5, so the only thing I remembered was the color of the seats: dark blue with red diamonds all over them. Since then, I had only flown down to Florida or up to Maine to visit my relatives.
Now the plane I was on was flying to Colorado, with the people selected for the MOSS Project in tow. There were exactly one hundred of us, fifty male, fifty female. Most of us were in our early twenties to mid-thirties, but there were a few who were older. A Japanese man clutching a bag to his chest and an elegant dark-skinned woman with gold bangles around her wrists were two of the oldest. I liked the diversity that the project embodied. So far, I had seen people hailing from everywhere from the US to Korea, Germany to Afghanistan. It was an exciting mix of exotic and familiar.
But I wasn't focused on the blended culture around me. I was gripping the seats with white knuckles, convinced that if I didn't hold on to something, I would fall out of my seat and the plane would go careening toward the ground.
"Gum?" A voice next to me offered. I turned my head slowly to see my neighbor, a tall woman with blonde hair, holing up a stick of gum in a shiny silver wrapper.
"Thanks," I choked out, grabbing the gun and hastily unwrapping it.
"It's not that bad once we get in the air," she said reassuringly. I noticed her accent was slightly French, but mixed in with something else I couldn't identify. "I've flown on planes dozens of times, and they're very safe."
"Yeah," I said, smiling weakly as I chewed the gum.
"I'm Diane Rousseau," she said, extending a manicured hand. "I'm from Montreal, Canada."
"Kay Collier," I said, using my new moniker. I shook her hand quickly, returning my clammy one to the armrest. "I'm from Philadelphia. Well, at least I used to be."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Diane said, smiling warmly. "Is this your first flight?"
"Since I was little," I explained.
"Ah," she said with a knowing nod. "You'll be fine, really. Takeoff is always...interesting, but once everything calms down it's just like riding on a train or in a car. Amazing views, too."
"I'll take your word for it," I gulped as the plane started to pull out of the airport and glide toward the runway.

*          *          *          *          *

Diane was right, as much as I hate to admit it. Flying was fine, in fact, it was rather fun. My stomach had done nervous flips as we took off and ascended to the height we'd have to maintain to make to to Colorado, but beyond that, it was enjoyable. I looked out of the window and down at the streets and cars and buildings. They looked like tiny bugs down there, the cars especially. With the sun reflecting off their tops, they looked like brightly colored beetles.
I chatted more with Diane as the ride went on. I found out that she played the piano professionally, that she had a husband and a little boy at home, and that she had once played at Carnegie Hall to benefit a charity for leukemia. Her sister Marie had died of leukemia six years ago, I learned, and she had been an accomplished violin player. I told Diane little about my life, only that I lived in Philadelphia and I had a little sister, like Diane, but I didn't elaborate.
A ding sounded, and the light that read KEEP SEATBELTS ON clicked off. A flight attendant's voice came on over the speakers. "The pilot has turned off the seatbelt sign. Please feel free to move about the cabin in an orderly fashion."
As soon as she spoke, a big, athletic man across the aisle got up, his hand pressed to his mouth, and stumbled towards the bathroom as fast as he could. I watched him go with a mixture of amusement and pity. The woman he had been sitting next to rolled her eyes.
"Typical," she said. "It's always the unlikely ones." She had curly dark hair and blue eyes, and an English accent. "How long 'till they let us out of this death trap, anyway?"
"About four and a half hours," Diane said. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Katharina," the woman said with a smile.

Interviews

(Again, this is kind of background information about your character. Please fill this out for however many people you have, and this information will come up later. Thanks! ~Akire)

1. Do you have any previous experience in dream sharing or dream building?

2. Have you studied dreamwork at a college level?

3. Do you experience lucid dreams often?

4. If so, do you remember those dreams with clarity?

5. Have you been a participant in an Extraction process, whether legal or illegal?

6. Have you participated in another dream-related experiment such as the Morpheus Project?

A Bitter Adieu

It was a warm, sunny day in late June. I believe it was the twenty-fourth. The sky was untouched by clouds, but a warm breeze skimmed across the front lawn, weaving it's way in between the branches of the sweeping magnolia tree. It was the sort of weather that made you want to lie down in the sunshine and enjoy a cool glass of lemonade. A few people strolled aimlessly past 42 Spade Drive, but paid no attention to it. A bird swooped by, oblivious to the turmoil inside the house.
I stood in the kitchen, the sun dappling patterns on my shirt, having the mother of all fights with, well, my mother. She was at the sink, one hand on her hip, and the other by the water tap. The look on her face was indescribable. "Annabel Kay Weaver," she said, in what I took to be her attempt at a threatening tone, "there is no way in heaven or in hell that you are leaving college to participate in that program!"
I think I should get one thing straight. My mother never yells. Not even during that time in sophomore year when I punched a girl because she called me a name that I won't repeat. But now Mom was getting dangerously close to the point of raising her voice.
I rolled my eyes. "It's not 'some program', Mom, it's a government-funded organization."
"Oh, where did you get that information?" she replied scathingly. "Off the brochure? I'm not letting my elder daughter get sucked into a poorly fabricated scam."
"It's not a scam!" I protested. "I looked the man up, the man who sent it. Joseph Esterbrook. His information checks out. He really did publish a book, he really did win a Nobel Prize—"
My mother snorted.
"Listen," I said, taking a softer tone. "This is what I've always wanted. To be involved in something like the Morpheus Project, to be able to—"
"Your biggest dream has always been to go to college!" My mother contradicted, raising her voice a slight bit.
"That's your dream, Mom," I said. "But with this, I get to experience new things. I get to travel to new places, and meet new people. It's a whole new cultural experience!" I tried to appeal to her creative side.
Mom clicked her tongue in disbelief. "If you call rushing off to DC or wherever you're supposed to go at a minute's notice 'traveling'."
Finally fed up with her disbelief and disapproval, I resorted to my last line of defense. "I'm eighteen!" I yelled. "I can do what I want, and you no longer have the legality to stop me! The only reason I've stayed here for the summer is because I wanted you to have the most time with me possible before I go off to join the program!"
"Annabel Kay Weaver, don't you dare talk to me like that!" she yelled back, finally raising her tone to a shout. "I'm still your mother. Don't think that you're so independent now that you've come of age!"
You can stop calling me Annabel," I said spitefully. "I've changed it."
"Changed what?" she asked suspiciously.
"My name."
She exploded. She started spouting all sorts of rubbish at me, about how Annabel was the name that she and my father had given to me, and I had no business changing it, and what is your father going to think about this, and how will your sister feel? My father was currently at work, and my sister, Marissa, was lifeguarding at a local pool that she worked at during the summertime. Neither of them knew about this fight with Mom, although they both knew I had gotten a "callback" from the MOSS Project. I didn't want to think about what Dad would say, and it pained me to even imagine Marissa's face when she heard the news.
"I don't care!" I yelled childishly. "I don't give a crap what they think! My name is changed, and that's that. End of story."
There was a sudden silence in the room. We were both breathing heavily, and she was red in the face. I looked nothing like her, with her round face and wispy hair. I was several inches taller than her, and much skinnier. I didn't take much after my father or sister either. My father was balding and short, and my sister had the classic "golden girl" looks; long, curly blonde hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. The only difference was, she had a beautiful personality to match her good looks.
"Out," Mom said finally. "Go. You get what you want. Just leave."
I exited the kitchen silently. My bags were packed already, waiting upstairs in my room, and I had a considerable amount of cash in a bank account, saved up ever since I was nine. My parents' money that they had planned to spend on my college was included as well.
I grabbed my bags, ran back down the stairs, and started out the door. I knew I could catch a cab from about a mile away. Luckily, my bags weren't that heavy, and I was used to walking. But before I stepped out, I took one look around my childhood home, wondering when I would see it again, and knowing it would not be for a long time. I let the screen door slam shut behind me. Hefting my bag over one shoulder, I noted how ironic it was that my mother had been so upset at my new moniker. She didn't even know what names I had chosen, or why.
Kay Annabel Collier. Kay after my middle name (I had always liked it better), Annabel for the name that my parents had given to me, and Collier for my mother's maiden name.
This change was only the beginning of my rebirth.

Prelude

In the year 1989, a group of scientists began working on a program based on dreaming. This program, called the Morpheus Project, was backed by the US military, and evolved into an entirely new kind of training for soldiers. Shared dreaming allowed them to fight as much as they could in the dream, but wake up unharmed once they were killed.
As you can imagine, this lead to the use of shared dreaming in other ways. Namely, stealing information from another person's subconscious. In 2007, a man named Dominic Cobb went too far. He was one of the most skilled Extractors and Architects in the world, having been taught the art by one of the original scientists who worked on the Morpheus Project: his father-in-law. However, his curiosity caused his wife's death, and he was forced to embark on a three-year journey around the globe, leaving his children behind, but trying his best to make his way back to them.
But before Cobb's adventure, there was the MOSS Project.
Designed to discover dreaming talents in everyday people, the MOSS Project debuted in September 2000. It was comprised of 100 applicants, 50 male, and 50 female. Several renowned dream scientists and psychologists were assigned to the project, and it was headed by Joseph Esterbrook, who was recommended for the position by none other than the head of the Morpheus Project.
They had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

We start our story in late June of 2000, a few weeks before the interviews for the applicants occurred. Be aware that the timeline of this blog jumps a lot, since it takes place over a period of three or four years. There is a definite story arc, and yes, there will be an end. If you hadn't guessed from the intro above, this blog is a spinoff of the movie Inception, that happens several years before the events of the movie. The movie's events occur in the year 2010, and the MOSS Project starts in September, 2000.
I, as your fearless blog leader, will do my best to make the story as simple to understand as possible. There is a lot of character background before the action actually gets started, so I would like it if you either create a post about how your character reacted to the interview, etc., or simply know your backstory well. For ideas about your post, look for my upcoming one about my character, Kay Collier.
You will be required to add additional information as we go along. I will ask for it in posts as the story demands, and it should be a fairly simple process. Things we might need to know later include your character's totem, their assigned number, etc.
There is lodging during the MOSS Project, as it is conducted in a lab in Colorado, and hotel rooms are used at the beginning. Sleeping arrangements as well as group assignments later on, will be posted either on the sidebar or in a separate page
I hope you will fully enjoy this foray into dreams. I apologize for all the rules and regulations, but this is a military procedure, and you know how they love their rules.
'Night night.