Dreams of Ice and Fire: Arya

[mindchap]

I am trying to compile all of the main character's dreams so that we have an easier way to search through them. Below is for Arya, the ones in blue are what I think are wolf dreams and black are the others. I numbered them all so that if you have any comments or suggestions for any of them you don't have to try and quote the whole thing.

MODS If this is in any way a violation of any of our rules please let me know and I will delete them and won't post anymore, I tried PMs but got no response.

Arya

Game Of Thrones

1)

She hunkered down in the dark against a damp stone wall and listened for the pursuit, but the

only sound was the beating of her own heart and a distant drip of water. Quiet as a shadow, she

told herself. She wondered where she was. When they had first come to King’s Landing, she

used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle.

Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell, but in her dreams it had been immense,

an endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her. She would find

herself wandering down gloomy halls past faded tapestries, descending endless circular stairs,

darting through courtyards or over bridges, her shouts echoing unanswered. In some of the rooms

the red stone walls would seem to drip blood, and nowhere could she find a window. Sometimes

she would hear her father’s voice, but always from a long way off, and no matter how hard she

ran after it, it would grow fainter and fainter, until it faded to nothing and Arya was alone in the

dark.

GoT 232

Clash Of Kings

2)

She must have slept, though she never remembered closing her eyes. She dreamed a wolf was

howling, and the sound was so terrible that it woke her at once. Arya sat up on her pallet with her

heart thumping. “Hot Pie, wake up.” She scrambled to her feet. “Woth, Gendry, didn’t you

hear?” She pulled on a boot.

All around her, men and boys stirred and crawled from their pallets. “What’s wrong?” Hot Pie

asked. “Hear what?” Gendry wanted to know. “Arry had a bad dream,” someone else said.

“No, I heard it,” she insisted. “A wolf.”

“Arry has wolves in his head,” sneered Lommy. “Let them howl,” Gerren said, “they’re out

there, we’re in here.” Woth agreed. “Never saw no wolf could storm a holdfast.” Hot Pie was

saying, “I never heard nothing.”

“It was a wolf,” she shouted at them as she yanked on her second boot. “Something’s wrong,

someone’s coming, get up!”

Before they could hoot her down again, the sound came shuddering through the night-only it

was no wolf this time, it was Kurz blowing his hunting horn, sounding danger.

CoK 139

3)

Arya was dreaming of wolves running wild through the wood when a strong hand clamped

down over her mouth like smooth warm stone, solid and unyielding. She woke at once,

squirming and struggling. “A girl says nothing,” a voice whispered close behind her ear. “A girl

keeps her lips closed, no one hears, and friends may talk in secret. Yes?”

Heart pounding, Arya managed the tiniest of nods.

Jaqen H’ghar took his hand away. The cellar was black as pitch and she could not see his face,

even inches away. She could smell him, though; his skin smelled clean and soapy, and he had

scented his hair. “A boy becomes a girl,” he murmured.

CoK 289

A Storm Of Swords

4)

Her dreams were red and savage. The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a

dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman

whose name she never knew. On and on they came, riding through the rain in rusting mail and

wet leather, swords and axe clanking against their saddles. They thought they were hunting her,

she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting

them.

She was no little girl in the dream; she was a wolf, huge and powerful, and when she emerged

from beneath the trees in front of them and bared her teeth in a low rumbling growl, she could

smell the rank stench of fear from horse and man alike. The Lyseni’s mount reared and screamed

in terror, and the others shouted at one another in mantalk, but before they could act the other

wolves came hurtling from the darkness and the rain, a great pack of them, gaunt and wet and

silent.

The fight was short but bloody. The hairy man went down as he unslung his axe, the dark one

died stringing an arrow, and the pale man from Lys tried to bolt. Her brothers and sisters ran him

down, turning him again and again, coming at him from all sides, snapping at the legs of his

horse and tearing the throat from the rider when he came crashing to the earth.

Only the belled man stood his ground. His horse kicked in the head of one of her sisters, and he

cut another almost in half with his curved silvery claw as his hair tinkled softly.

Filled with rage, she leapt onto his back, knocking him head-first from his saddle. Her jaws

locked on his arm as they fell, her teeth sinking through the leather and wool and soft flesh.

When they landed she gave a savage jerk with her head and ripped the limb loose from his

shoulder. Exulting, she shook it back and forth in her mouth, scattering the warm red droplets

amidst the cold black rain.

ASoS 38

5)

Warm and dry in a corner between Gendry and Harwin, Arya listened to the singing for a time,

then closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of home; not Riverrun, but Winterfell. It

was not a good dream, though. She was alone outside the castle, up to her knees in mud. She

could see the grey walls ahead of her, but when she tried to reach the gates every step seemed

harder than the one before, and the castle faded before her, until it looked more like smoke than

granite. And there were wolves as well, gaunt grey shapes stalking through the trees all around

her, their eyes shining. Whenever she looked at them, she remembered the taste of blood.

ASoS 163

6)

Sleep came as quick as she closed her eyes. She dreamed of wolves that night, stalking through

a wet wood with the smell of rain and rot and blood thick in the air. Only they were good smells

in the dream, and Arya knew she had nothing to fear. She was strong and swift and fierce, and

her pack was all around her, her brothers and her sisters. They ran down a frightened horse

together, tore its throat out, and feasted. And when the moon broke through the clouds, she threw

back her head and howled.

But when the day came, she woke to the barking of dogs.

ASoS 279

7)

And dreamed. That was the best part, the dreaming. She dreamed of wolves most every night. A

great pack of wolves, with her at the head. She was bigger than any of them, stronger, swifter,

faster. She could outrun horses and outfight lions. When she bared her teeth even men would run

from her, her belly was never empty long, and her fur kept her warm even when the wind was

blowing cold. And her brothers and sisters were with her, many and more of them, fierce and

terrible and hers. They would never leave her. ASoS 600

8)

That night she went to sleep thinking of her mother, and wondering if she should kill the Hound

in his sleep and rescue Lady Catelyn herself. When she closed her eyes she saw her mother’s

face against the back of her eyelids. She’s so close I could almost smell her...

... and then she could smell her. The scent was faint beneath the other smells, beneath moss and

mud and water, and the stench of rotting reeds and rotting men. She padded slowly through the

soft ground to the river’s edge, lapped up a drink, the lifted her head to sniff. The sky was grey

and thick with cloud, the river green and full of floating things. Dead men clogged the shallows,

some still moving as the water pushed them, others washed up on the banks. Her brothers and

sisters swarmed around them, tearing at the rich ripe flesh.

The crows were there too, screaming at the wolves and filling the air with feathers. Their blood

was hotter, and one of her sisters had snapped at one as it took flight and caught it by the wing. It

made her want a crow herself. She wanted to taste the blood, to hear the bones crunch between

her teeth, to fill her belly with warm flesh instead of cold. She was hungry and the meat was all

around, but she knew she could not eat.

The scent was stronger now. She pricked her ears up and listened to the grumbles of her pack,

the shriek of angry crows, the whirr of wings and sound of running water. Somewhere far off she

could hear horses and the calls of living men, but they were not what mattered. Only the scent

mattered. She sniffed the air again. There it was, and now she saw it too, something pale and

white drifting down the river, turning where it brushed against a snag. The reeds bowed down

before it.

She splashed noisily through the shallows and threw herself into the deeper water, her legs

churning. The current was strong but she was stronger. She swam, following her nose. The river

smells were rich and wet, but those were not the smells that pulled her. She paddled after the

sharp red whisper of cold blood, the sweet cloying stench of death. She chased them as she had

often chased a red deer through the trees, and in the end she ran them down, and her jaw closed

around a pale white arm. She shook it to make it move, but there was only death and blood in her

mouth. By now she was tiring, and it was all she could do to pull the body back to shore. As she

dragged it up the muddy bank, one of her little brothers came prowling, his tongue lolling from

his mouth. She had to snarl to drive him off, or else he would have fed. Only then did she stop to

shake the water from her fur. The white thing lay facedown in the mud, her dead flesh wrinkled

and pale, cold blood trickling from her throat. Rise, she thought. Rise and eat and run with us.

The sound of horses turned her head. Men. They were coming from downwind, so she had not

smelled them, but now they were almost here. Men on horses, with flapping black and yellow

and pink wings and long shiny claws in hand. Some of her younger brothers bared their teeth to

defend the food they’d found, but she snapped at them until they scattered. That was the way of

the wild. Deer and hares and crows fled before wolves, and wolves fled from men. She

abandoned the cold white prize in the mud where she had dragged it, and ran, and felt no shame.

When morning came, the Hound did not need to shout at Arya or shake her awake. She had

woken before him for a change, and even watered the horses. They broke their fast in silence,

until Sandor said, “This thing about your mother...”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arya said in a dull voice. “I know she’s dead. I saw her in a dream.”

The Hound looked at her a long time, then nodded. No more was said of it. They rode on

toward the mountains.

ASoS 603

9)

She had dreamed she was a wolf again, chasing a riderless horse up a hill with a pack behind her,

but his foot brought her back just as they were closing for the kill.

ASoS 703

A Feast For Crows

10)

Arya heard much and more that night, but almost all of it was in the tongue of Braavos, and she

hardly understood one word in ten. Still as stone, she told herself. The hardest part was

struggling not to yawn. Before the night was done, her wits were wandering. Standing there with

the flagon in her hands, she dreamed she was a wolf, running free through a moonlit forest with a

great pack howling at her heels.

AFfC 257

11)

When they reached the broad straight waterway that was the Long Canal, they turned south for

the fishmarket. Cat sat with her legs crossed, fighting a yawn and trying to recall the details of

her dream. I dreamed I was a wolf again. She could remember the smells best of all: trees and

earth, her pack brothers, the scents of horse and deer and man, each different from the others,

and the sharp acrid tang of fear, always the same. Some nights the wolf dreams were so vivid

that she could hear her brothers howling even as she woke, and once Brea had claimed that she

was growling in her sleep as she thrashed beneath the covers. She thought that was some stupid

lie till Talea said it too.

I should not be dreaming wolf dreams, the girl told herself. I am a cat now, not a wolf. I am Cat

of the Canals. The wolf dreams belonged to Arya of House Stark. Try as she might, though, she

could not rid herself of Arya. It made no difference whether she slept beneath the temple or in

the little room beneath the eaves with Brusco’s daughters, the wolf dreams still haunted her by

night... and sometimes other dreams as well.

The wolf dreams were the good ones. In the wolf dreams she was swift and strong, running

down her prey with her pack at her heels. It was the other dream she hated, the one where she

had two feet instead of four. In that one she was always looking for her mother, stumbling

through a wasted land of mud and blood and fire. It was always raining in that dream, and she

could hear her mother screaming, but a monster with a dog’s head would not let her go save her.

In that dream she was always weeping, like a frightened little girl. Cats never weep, she told

herself, no more than wolves do. It’s just a stupid dream.

AFfC 399

12)

That night she dreamed she was a wolf again, but it was different from the other dreams. In this

dream she had no pack. She prowled alone, bounding over rooftops and padding silently beside

the banks of a canal, stalking shadows through the fog.

When she woke the next morning, she was blind.

AFfC 410

A Dance With Dragons

13)

Her nights were lit by distant stars and the shimmer of moonlight on snow, but every dawn she woke to darkness.

She opened her eyes and stared up blind at the black that shrouded her, her dream already fading. So beautiful. She licked her lips, remembering. The bleating of the sheep, the terror in the shepherd’s eyes, the sound the dogs had made as she killed them one by one, the snarling of her pack. Game had become scarcer since the snows began to fall, but last night they had feasted. Lamb and dog and mutton and the flesh of man. Some of her little grey cousins were afraid of men, even dead men, but not her. Meat was meat, and men were prey. She was the night wolf. But only when she dreamed.

……

She knew the way to the kitchens, but her nose would have led her there even if she hadn’t. Hot peppers and fried fish, she decided, sniffing down the hall, and bread fresh from Umma’s oven. The smells made her belly rumble. The night wolf had feasted, but that would not fill the blind girl’s belly. Dream meat could not nourish her, she had learned that early on.

ADwD 517

14)

Sleep did not come easily that night. Tangled in her blankets, she twisted this way and that in the cold dark room, but whichever way she turned, she saw the faces. They have no eyes, but they can see me. She saw her father’s face upon the wall. Beside him hung her lady mother, and below them her three brothers all in a row. No. That was some other girl. I am no one, and my only brothers wear robes of black and white. Yet there was the black singer, there the stableboy she’d killed with Needle, there the pimply squire from the crossroads inn, and over there the guard whose throat she’d slashed to get them out of Harrenhal. The Tickler hung on the wall as well, the black holes that were his eyes swimming with malice. The sight of him brought back the feel of the dagger in her hand as she had plunged it into his back, again and again and again.

ADwD 728

I think that 2 & 3 may be early wolf dreams, and I thought that 5 was a wolf dream as well but others have said there was no way Nymeria made it back to Winterfell, if anyone else would care to comment please do so.

[mindchap]

Really, no one?

[The Dornishman's Widow]

Really, no one?

I see what you did there :cool4:

(For the rest I'm in a hurry right now, but it seems like a very interesting thread and I promise to revisit when I get back.)

[IRON BANK]

Aryas dreams were always interesting to me. It seems after the Dream where nymeria finds her mother, she is starting to realize the dreams are real. Also it seems that her warging ability is becoming directly related to her path of a warrior.

[mindchap]

Aryas dreams were always interesting to me. It seems after the Dream where nymeria finds her mother, she is starting to realize the dreams are real. Also it seems that her warging ability is becoming directly related to her path of a warrior.

The number 5 one is the main one I'm mixed on. The one where she dreams Nymeria is outside of Winterfell, several people said she couldn't have made it back there but there is an Asha chapter later where she mentions that the wolves, the fourlegged kind, got there before they did. So maybe she did make it back with her pack before realizing it wasn't home anymore?

[IRON BANK]

not sure its a wolf dream. but If it is a wolf dream then the river run differential would make sense. comparing the two castles denotes the change of location and the passage of time.

[mindchap]

not sure its a wolf dream. but If it is a wolf dream then the river run differential would make sense. comparing the two castles denotes the change of location and the passage of time.

Or perhaps she was actually dreaming of WF and it kind of segued into a wolf dream and Nymeria was actually watching something that had burned.

[Kienn]

Pretty sure 12 is a cat dream.

[The Dornishman's Widow]

I'd also think that #5 was not a wolf dream. None of the reasons is very strong individually, but taken together I'm relatively confident it was a normal dream:

1) Being up to her knees in mud implies she noticed her knees, and she should have noticed if they weren't human knees

2) Trying to reach something and move towards it but not being able to make progress is a very common dream element, but:

3) There's no particular reason it should happen to Nymeria unless she really sinks down in the mud - but no such peril was included in the dream and anyways, how did she get free?

4) Trying to reach the castle, the castle fades before her eyes. Makes sense with a human dream, would be strange for a wolf dream. It would also fit with slipping from a human dream into a wolf dream.

5) At the end she notices wolves and only then does she remember the taste of blood. This indicates that she wasn't in a wolf body the whole time, but only thought of her warg memories when triggered by the sight of the wolves. This could also wellbe the slipping into a wolf dream - but it strongly suggests that at least to start with, it wasn't a wolf dream.

About #3, I also believe that this seems to have been an early wolf dream. No sure way to tell though. #2 might have been as well, but it's even less sure I think.

[Neumond]

I can imagine this becoming an awesome topic...

I´m curious about the wasted land of mud and blood and fire in the eleventh dream. Interesting wording could this be some foreshadowing? Perhaps Arya coming "home" after Dany burnt Westeros? The rain could point away from Essos.

[mindchap]

Pretty sure 12 is a cat dream.

Sorry, should have said critter dreams.

I'd also think that #5 was not a wolf dream. None of the reasons is very strong individually, but taken together I'm relatively confident it was a normal dream:

1) Being up to her knees in mud implies she noticed her knees, and she should have noticed if they weren't human knees

2) Trying to reach something and move towards it but not being able to make progress is a very common dream element, but:

3) There's no particular reason it should happen to Nymeria unless she really sinks down in the mud - but no such peril was included in the dream and anyways, how did she get free?

4) Trying to reach the castle, the castle fades before her eyes. Makes sense with a human dream, would be strange for a wolf dream. It would also fit with slipping from a human dream into a wolf dream.

5) At the end she notices wolves and only then does she remember the taste of blood. This indicates that she wasn't in a wolf body the whole time, but only thought of her warg memories when triggered by the sight of the wolves. This could also wellbe the slipping into a wolf dream - but it strongly suggests that at least to start with, it wasn't a wolf dream.

About #3, I also believe that this seems to have been an early wolf dream. No sure way to tell though. #2 might have been as well, but it's even less sure I think.

And you make excellent points about the fifth one, I'm really beginning to think it was just a dream slipping into a wolf dream. But not all the way back at Winterfell.

I can imagine this becoming an awesome topic...

I´m curious about the wasted land of mud and blood and fire in the eleventh dream. Interesting wording could this be some foreshadowing? Perhaps Arya coming "home" after Dany burnt Westeros? The rain could point away from Essos.

When I finish the rest of the characters I hope to compare some, maybe there is more to them than what we think.

[Illifer the Penniless]

I can imagine this becoming an awesome topic...

I´m curious about the wasted land of mud and blood and fire in the eleventh dream. Interesting wording could this be some foreshadowing? Perhaps Arya coming "home" after Dany burnt Westeros? The rain could point away from Essos.

I don't think it's foreshadowing at all, but just an unconscious rehashing of her RW perspective... but if it is foreshadowing, maybe it's pointing toward springtime (rain vs snow)?

[mindchap]

I don't think it's foreshadowing at all, but just an unconscious rehashing of her RW perspective... but if it is foreshadowing, maybe it's pointing toward springtime (rain vs snow)?

That's what I was thinking, maybe subconsciously, she has feelings of guilt over the grief she caused her mother so often so her dreams turn to her.

[yolkboy]

I am trying to compile all of the main character's dreams so that we have an easier way to search through them. Below is for Arya, the ones in blue are what I think are wolf dreams and black are the others. I numbered them all so that if you have any comments or suggestions for any of them you don't have to try and quote the whole thing.

Hey mindchap, I had this exact same idea to do a thread like this - but for prophesies and prophetic dreams. Maybe one of could start another thread for those, a list of anything prophetic. I think it would be very useful, so good work on this!

[mindchap]

Hey mindchap, I had this exact same idea to do a thread like this - but for prophesies and prophetic dreams. Maybe one of could start another thread for those, a list of anything prophetic. I think it would be very useful, so good work on this!

Right now I am working on Jon's dreams, and I hope to get a discussion going with them to see where everyone stands on which ones are prophetic, wolf, or just plain dreams. I did Arya's first because hers are fairly simple and straightforward, whereas Jon's and Dany's(and maybe even Tyrion's) are a lot more complex. But you're more than welcome to use these as reference as well if you like.

*I may wait until Friday night to post Jon's so there can be more input.

[Pod The Impaler]

Arya's dreams are a mixture. Quite a number of her wolf dreams there. The warg ability is very strong in her, but unique circumstances in that she's not actually with Nymeria to consciously inhabit her as Bran does with Summer. With the cat, she has finally understood she has an ability, not just dreams, so now were she able to make contact with Nymeria again, I think she would be possessing her with remarkable ease, and it would feel like it was always meant to happen.

That being said, she may soon understand / be able to "reach out" as Bran does, and figure out it is her direwolf she is possessing in her dreams, and that she has a measure of control over Nymeria's actions.

Of course, some of these are not wolf dreams, just the regular sort of nightmares and such. I do think she may have a small measure of prophetic dreamst, but not nearly to the extent of Bran's.

[Ser Pigeon Pie]

Pretty sure 12 is a cat dream.

It can be considered a foreshadowing of Arya as "the Lone Wolf of Braavos", where mayhaps she discontinues her training and retains her identity whilst using her FM training she has already recieved.

I am only basing this on the fact that it specifically uses the word wolf and not critter. It still may imply that she saw herself as a cat and not a wolf but would mean a slight error on GRRMs part......or is it???

[Neumond]

When I finish the rest of the characters I hope to compare some, maybe there is more to them than what we think.

If I can find the time, I will have a look at some of the Daenerys dreams/prophecies.

I don't think it's foreshadowing at all, but just an unconscious rehashing of her RW perspective... but if it is foreshadowing, maybe it's pointing toward springtime (rain vs snow)?

I´m not sold at it being foreshadowing either but your springtime idea makes a lot of sense, if it is foreshadowing. You just never know what is important in GRRM´s work. Hopefully we will see how it turns out in a few years...

[Illifer the Penniless]

It can be considered a foreshadowing of Arya as "the Lone Wolf of Braavos", where mayhaps she discontinues her training and retains her identity whilst using her FM training she has already recieved.

I am only basing this on the fact that it specifically uses the word wolf and not critter. It still may imply that she saw herself as a cat and not a wolf but would mean a slight error on GRRMs part......or is it???

Here I think she assumed she was a wolf because that's the only animal she's known in her dreams. Perhaps it was just an "unreliable narrator" thing.

[mindchap]

Here I think she assumed she was a wolf because that's the only animal she's known in her dreams. Perhaps it was just an "unreliable narrator" thing.

That's what I was thinking. And it's before the cat in the rafters incident.