If Garrett Hedlund shows up in your bedroom, let us know...

I've dreamt of Tron before, that of Tron: Uprising. A few times at minor length, and other times were just glimpses of him stealthily sneaking about whatever dream structure or landscape was there at the time.

One time he saved me from what would have otherwise been a terrible nightmare. In other dreams, he had stopped to discuss some practical concerns and problems to be addressed - yet I never recall the actual context at hand. A pity. Intuition holds that it would have been some useful notions.

Thus far, no dreams of any greater length or recollection; sometimes I am lucky enough to have dreams that take on a science-fiction type of narrative. It would be interesting to see what sort of action or standing he might possess in that surreal environment of unconscious temporary-insanity.

... I tend to keep a record of any interesting dreams of mine. There are about eight so far which concern Tron - or whichever entity he could be considered as, in dreaming; the appearance of Tron is one of two things as per the dreams' structure: either a framework for something else much more strange, or a narrative component or agent. Thus, I make the distinction of entity-Tron, and Tron-proper. The latter I would expect to be much more close to Tron of Uprising.

I've actually found that some dreaming imagery of Tron might make for a fair sketching exercise. To that end, here is one dream.

In one dream, Tron was in a barren, dark wasteland of rock which seemed to be somewhere on the Outlands of the Grid - only the horizon bore a dim glow. These plains were scoured by a steady, strong wind which carried long flakes of blasted, dark ash or fabric-like remains. Hardly any ridges or stone marked the landscape, leaving Tron the sole towering figure in the image.

He was holding forward a broken disc in both hands, one quarter of it missing at it's top right. It was about the same size as an Identity Disc, yet was transparent, with a heavy, crimson glow - but a flickering, as if it were a fluid more than a solid. A few of it's shards remained attached to it by tendrils of light which moved - yet not by the wind, instead by it's own volition. It was a kind of entity, a thing repairing and renewing itself according to it's environment, and it's holder.

Tron was staring directly at me, letting his gaze and force of mind carry his message. Silently he was demanding that I heed this strange beacon which he held, and that I listen to the shrieking wind of that blasted, withered dusk landscape.