The entirety of this dream was imagined from the point of view of someone reading a book and then visualizing that story. I know this because I was aware of the narration the entire time and could occasionally see the words on the page.
A young girl had fallen in love with a man in a high tower. She had no idea who he was, but she knew that she had seen him at least once before when she'd made the treacherous journey through the surrounding basketball courts and jungle gyms up to that tower to give the man some food. He hadn't even seen her, but his flowing grey hair and elegantly hunched back had left her infatuated.
For months she keened after him, scheming how to meet him again. She even gave birth in that time to his child. At least, that was what she told herself it was. Her fairy godparent, Jorgen von Strangle was not so convinced. He thought it was a baby doll she'd found somewhere. He spent hours trying to talk her out of trying to meet him again, but he could not use magic to end the ridiculous romance. Then, she became pregnant for real. This...worried Jorgen. He redoubled his efforts, but so did she. At long last, she made it back into the tower and faced her love, but he was just a bag of bones that collapsed in a poof of dust when she touched it. She clutched his ancient flesh against her Breast and wept for her love while Jorgan floated beside her helpless. He became even more useless when she went into labor.
Something was not right about the birth. It was not proceeding smoothly, though neither Jorgan nor the girl knew what was wrong. After hours of agony, a black, leathery wing emerged, followed by a body not unlike a grub with the face of a man. The girl was shocked and terrified, but what else should you expect when you sleep with an alien? Jorgan came closer to swaddle his new child while the girl tried not to die of fright or pain or illness.
At this point, I shut the twisted book I'd been reading and reflected on how entirely disturbed my brain is.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Dream Log 23: Math and Doom
Math
Sometimes, school just doesn't make sense. I became distinctly aware of this when I found myself woken in the middle of the night by a boy and girl pair determined to force me into participating in a science expo.
"This really isn't my kind of thing," I protested.
"Come ooooooon!" whined the girl, "you have to participate."
"What are you even doing with your life, huh? HUH?" insisted the boy.
"I'm sleeping. Let me get back to that."
Eventually, they relented and I went back to sleep, but all too soon I had to shake myself awake and head off to math class. When I arrived, I was surprised to see my high school math teacher sitting in the room, pouring over a book.
"Come on girl. Get on the ball. You're a minute late," he whined playfully, handing me a worksheet.
I took a seat and got straight to work. I made it through about half of the worksheet before I ran into trouble. It looked like the rest of the class had hit the same roadblock.
Using the Trevorian Method, solve the following problem. A flock of doves descends from the heavens in an attempt to lift the angel fallen from grace back into the lord's favor after attempting to overturn the church in a beer themed coup. How many doves are required to do so?
My first guess was 42. That was shot down rather quickly. Then I guessed that there was not enough information, since I didn't have the mass of the angel or the carrying capacity of the doves. The teacher dismissed that with a simple "wrong."
After hours of grueling work and trying to figure out what the Trevorian Method was, my classmates and I gave up and begged the answer of our teacher. With a sigh, he pushed his book away and looked at us disapprovingly.
"The answer is that it is not possible to lift him back into grace. There aren't second chances for an angel that levies alcohol against the church. Thus, his sin is too great for the doves to overcome."
I. Hate. Trick. Questions.
Doom
Johnny Strong, an iron haired man with a mercenary past; Ross Cain, a talented government agent just trying to get the job done; Isabella Roneski, a princess more comfortable in body armor than dresses. These were the three people brought in when the book of souls was lost.
The book of souls contained summoning spells for eleven ancient and wise spirits which would be bound to serve as advisers and servants to the summoner, assuming he or she survived casting the spell. However, if all of the souls were summoned, their combined spiritual squalor would draw out God's wrath and begin the apocalypse.
The team searched in all the known supernatural crime holes, called in all of their favors, fired their way out of a few tight spots, and came up with nothing. Then Isabella's mother called. One does not simply say no to Queen Vinetta Roneski.
Isabella donned her royal clothing, complete with a tall blue cap that she hated with a passion. She met her mother on the steps of the palace. The older woman had a similar, but notably taller cap.
"What was so important that you had to call me away from a mission to save existence, mother?"
"You will speak with due respect or I shall paralyze your tongue again."
"Yes...my royal mother."
"Thank you dear, and as it happens, I have discovered something that may help you and your friends."
She swept into the palace and guided her grumbling daughter to an out of the way door. The queen stopped at the door and gestured Isabella inside. The door led to a short hallway with just three rooms branching off. The first door on the right was just a bathroom, but the open room to the left was filled with people, about eleven. All of their clothes seemed centuries out of date, and they were far too entertained by the balloon they were playing with. Isabella's heart sank. Eleven. Wasn't that the number of souls? She felt almost certain of it.
Shaking her head to clear it, she forced herself to check the last room. It contained only a large bed and simple bedside dresser with a nondescript book lying atop it. The bed was occupied by a man so heavily bandaged it took Isabella several seconds to recognize him as her father.
"Dad? What happened to you?" she stood in the doorway, repulsion and concern fighting for her attention.
"A price had to be paid," he wheezed through a mouth with one less tooth than she remembered him having.
"And you paid with your body?" Isabella more shouted than asked. Anger had won in the emotion war, "Look at you. You're missing a hand, an eye, a tooth, and for what? A bunch of idiots with a balloon?"
"You don't understand," he argued, attempting to sit up, "I simply did what I had to."
"Alright, you know what? I don't need to discuss this right now. I just need to know how many you summoned."
"Eleven."
Stomach tying into knots, she stepped around the bed and picked up the book on the dresser. She flipped through the book, matching the descriptions of each sacrifice to the wounds on her father's body, until she reached the eleventh spirit and noticed a page beyond it.
"Twelve. There are twelve spirits," she whispered as the beating of her heart slowed below a gallop. Apprehensively, she examined the sacrifice called for for the final spirit.
"I couldn't do it. I'm not strong enough for that," whimpered her father.
"It's a good thing you couldn't," Isabella mumbled around the lump in her throat, "You would have doomed us all, you poor idiot."
With that she half marched half ran out of the room, clutching the book to her chest and trying to forget the instructions for filicide written within.
Sometimes, school just doesn't make sense. I became distinctly aware of this when I found myself woken in the middle of the night by a boy and girl pair determined to force me into participating in a science expo.
"This really isn't my kind of thing," I protested.
"Come ooooooon!" whined the girl, "you have to participate."
"What are you even doing with your life, huh? HUH?" insisted the boy.
"I'm sleeping. Let me get back to that."
Eventually, they relented and I went back to sleep, but all too soon I had to shake myself awake and head off to math class. When I arrived, I was surprised to see my high school math teacher sitting in the room, pouring over a book.
"Come on girl. Get on the ball. You're a minute late," he whined playfully, handing me a worksheet.
I took a seat and got straight to work. I made it through about half of the worksheet before I ran into trouble. It looked like the rest of the class had hit the same roadblock.
Using the Trevorian Method, solve the following problem. A flock of doves descends from the heavens in an attempt to lift the angel fallen from grace back into the lord's favor after attempting to overturn the church in a beer themed coup. How many doves are required to do so?
My first guess was 42. That was shot down rather quickly. Then I guessed that there was not enough information, since I didn't have the mass of the angel or the carrying capacity of the doves. The teacher dismissed that with a simple "wrong."
After hours of grueling work and trying to figure out what the Trevorian Method was, my classmates and I gave up and begged the answer of our teacher. With a sigh, he pushed his book away and looked at us disapprovingly.
"The answer is that it is not possible to lift him back into grace. There aren't second chances for an angel that levies alcohol against the church. Thus, his sin is too great for the doves to overcome."
I. Hate. Trick. Questions.
Doom
Johnny Strong, an iron haired man with a mercenary past; Ross Cain, a talented government agent just trying to get the job done; Isabella Roneski, a princess more comfortable in body armor than dresses. These were the three people brought in when the book of souls was lost.
The book of souls contained summoning spells for eleven ancient and wise spirits which would be bound to serve as advisers and servants to the summoner, assuming he or she survived casting the spell. However, if all of the souls were summoned, their combined spiritual squalor would draw out God's wrath and begin the apocalypse.
The team searched in all the known supernatural crime holes, called in all of their favors, fired their way out of a few tight spots, and came up with nothing. Then Isabella's mother called. One does not simply say no to Queen Vinetta Roneski.
Isabella donned her royal clothing, complete with a tall blue cap that she hated with a passion. She met her mother on the steps of the palace. The older woman had a similar, but notably taller cap.
"What was so important that you had to call me away from a mission to save existence, mother?"
"You will speak with due respect or I shall paralyze your tongue again."
"Yes...my royal mother."
"Thank you dear, and as it happens, I have discovered something that may help you and your friends."
She swept into the palace and guided her grumbling daughter to an out of the way door. The queen stopped at the door and gestured Isabella inside. The door led to a short hallway with just three rooms branching off. The first door on the right was just a bathroom, but the open room to the left was filled with people, about eleven. All of their clothes seemed centuries out of date, and they were far too entertained by the balloon they were playing with. Isabella's heart sank. Eleven. Wasn't that the number of souls? She felt almost certain of it.
Shaking her head to clear it, she forced herself to check the last room. It contained only a large bed and simple bedside dresser with a nondescript book lying atop it. The bed was occupied by a man so heavily bandaged it took Isabella several seconds to recognize him as her father.
"Dad? What happened to you?" she stood in the doorway, repulsion and concern fighting for her attention.
"A price had to be paid," he wheezed through a mouth with one less tooth than she remembered him having.
"And you paid with your body?" Isabella more shouted than asked. Anger had won in the emotion war, "Look at you. You're missing a hand, an eye, a tooth, and for what? A bunch of idiots with a balloon?"
"You don't understand," he argued, attempting to sit up, "I simply did what I had to."
"Alright, you know what? I don't need to discuss this right now. I just need to know how many you summoned."
"Eleven."
Stomach tying into knots, she stepped around the bed and picked up the book on the dresser. She flipped through the book, matching the descriptions of each sacrifice to the wounds on her father's body, until she reached the eleventh spirit and noticed a page beyond it.
"Twelve. There are twelve spirits," she whispered as the beating of her heart slowed below a gallop. Apprehensively, she examined the sacrifice called for for the final spirit.
"I couldn't do it. I'm not strong enough for that," whimpered her father.
"It's a good thing you couldn't," Isabella mumbled around the lump in her throat, "You would have doomed us all, you poor idiot."
With that she half marched half ran out of the room, clutching the book to her chest and trying to forget the instructions for filicide written within.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Dream Log 22: Weird Stuff
The school year was over. I no longer had to worry about projects or tests. I could just kick back and look at the final projects of some of the engineering students. They had made mousetrap cars or rigged up an experiment for testing the strength of balsa wood. As I observed them, a woman came up to me. I recognized her as the wife of my engineering teacher from the previous semester.
"So, where is your project?" she inquired.
"Um, I don't have one. I took this class last semester."
She frowned. "Even last semester students had to make a project to present here. We were expecting such great things from you. Are you really going to fail now?"
My gut writhed. How was I supposed to know that? No one had said anything. I rushed off to get to work on a model car that would be propelled by candles. Each flame would send hot air up towards the blades of a tiny propeller and would force it to spin. This propeller's shaft was connected by gears to the rear axle of the car. It was a clever enough idea, but I simply did not have the time to build it. The stress built until I reached the point of indifference. So what if I didn't complete the course perfectly? I had done everything asked of me and could not be expected to read their minds about other assignments. If I got a C in the class, then I got a C. With that, I sauntered off to enjoy myself at Gen Con.
When I arrived, I saw the expected melange of cosplayers and nerdy T-shirts. In the sea of geekiness I could not find my friend group, but it didn't matter. I had been signed up to participate in some elaborate, interactive storytelling adventure. It stood to reason that whoever had signed me up would also be there. The place where the event was held was sectioned off with temporary walls and tent canopies. Heavy black curtains hung in the entrance, and when someone wished to enter, the ticket collector pulled one of the curtains back only as much as he had to to let the patron pass. Finally, my turn came to enter.
What I saw on the other side did not surprise so much as confuse me. A large walkway led up to a room colored by slime and shadow. The floor was not a floor, but a pit of green glowing goo. Black walkways crisscrossed the room over the goo, and those walkways were marked periodically with green dots. The ramp connecting directly to the walkway had a dot labeled "start". The moment I stepped onto it, another worker popped up in front of me.
"Welcome to the story," he beamed in a half whisper, "I'll be your guide. Have you played before?"
I shook my head.
"Excellent! The way this works is, at each dot along the path, you will be given some information. It may be in the form of text, pictures, videos, anything. Once given the information you will have to decide what to do with it. If you decide correctly, I'll roll my dice and give you a random number of points and you can move on to the next dot. Choose incorrectly, I will roll again to determine how many steps back you have to go. Then you'll have to make a different call from before. Remember! There are many right answers, but far more wrong ones."
"Uh...okay. Was that the clue that I get at this dot or is there something else?"
His smile turned sickly sweet. "Those are just the instructions, sweetie. Here's the information."
Before I could react, he plopped a large helmet onto my head which covered my eyes and a video started to play on a tiny screen built into it. It described how some sort of fish woman had trained her watery companions to live in people and take them over. When not living in humans, it appeared they liked to live in the muck covering the floor of the room I was currently in. A human by the name of Dirk Strider had recently been taken over, though he did not yet know it.
"Now then, what would you like to do?"
"Well, I want to find out how those possession fish work."
"Correct!" And we marched off to the next dot.
We proceeded in this fashion for some time. Every so often I had to go back and fill in the gaps in my understanding by taking a new route. It seemed to be that the possession fish did not simply control someone. They reshaped the person's body into an armored monstrosity that looked somewhat like an imperial drone in Homestuck. They could be driven into submission, and the person would look mostly normal, but "wrigglers" stayed behind in the person's skin and made it difficult for them to move. The fish woman in charge of it all stayed in the shadows of the story.
After my fiftieth time having to go backwards, I was fed up.
"Look, the story's cool and all, but why can't I just go through on my own? Why do I have to be sent back? It's ridiculous and frustrating and your dice hate me."
"If you really feel that way, I could always force you out," he suggested, honey and venom dripping from his words.
"You know what? You can't. You aren't even real, are you?" I didn't know where my words were coming from, but I knew they were true. "I'm going to see this stuff my way."
With that, I stepped off the walkway and onto a side area and through an inconspicuous door. The guide was powerless to stop me.
When I went through, I was amazed to see that I was no longer in the convention center. Heck, I was no longer in the city. An orange sky spread over the world, and a building similar to the palace of Versailles loomed in front of me. I entered and explored the new story lines I found. It seemed that the fish woman's schemes included the enslavement of all living beings the universe over. Disturbingly, some of the people I saw participating in the story seemed to have wrigglers in them. I wasn't sure about that until a man carrying a small girl ran past. I followed, intrigued. He kept running up to little flames burning in the floor, but as he reached them, they went out.
"What are you doing?" I called.
"If I get her on one of these flames, I can kill the wrigglers, but they keep going out!" He huffed.
I wasn't sure how to help, so I moved on. At some point, I came across a ballroom. Scores of people, presumable convention goers by their clothes, danced together with whomever was available. Some boy I thought I'd met once before and school took my hand and pulled me into the dance.
"What's going on?" I shouted over the music.
"I'm not really sure. People just started dancing. I have to do it to get to the next dot. Where are you on the path?"
"Oh," I said, blushing, "I gave up on following the path. I just sort of stormed off on my own."
"Really? Oh well, that's probably for the best. I've been stuck on this path for days. Be sure to look at the conquer of the forks," he recommended just as the dance finished.
"I'll do that," and I skipped off to get more of the story. I was looking at a transparent coffin with Dirk Strider age 82 inside when my friend that I'd been trying to find finally appeared.
"How's it going?" he asked amicably.
"Pretty well. I think I just figured out, I think the point of this entire thing is to mess with Dirk's head. Even when he got old, he just popped back in time to mess with himself and get the ball rolling."
"Well obviously. Everything else the fish woman does is just for show or to mess with Dave, which just messes with Dirk more. Have you seen the forks?"
"No. People keep telling me I should."
"Do it. I can't tell you where it is, since that would guarantee that it isn't there, but keep an eye out."
With that we headed off in our own separate directions, with him on his path and me on my own. After a bit more wandering, I went outside and saw something strange in the distance. It looked like a giant plate of spaghetti, and when I say giant, I mean the size of a city. However, instead of steam, smoke rose from it, and rising from the center of it was a fork with dented and blackened tines.
"The forks!" I cried and rushed towards it, exploring every inch. I know it was fascinating, and I know what I saw made me cry at times, but that part of my dream is blacked out in my memory. It isn't that I forgot it. It's that I was never allowed to remember. Afterwards, I headed back to the Palace of Versailles and pretended not to be disturbed by the memory loss. As I headed through the palace, I came across a man at a prize booth. The first prize for completing the entire story in the shortest time and with the most points was a large container of colored balls that were either candy or toys or both. Whatever they were, I wanted them.
"Excuse me sir. How much for first prize?" I asked as politely as I could. The man stared down at me.
"Where's your guide?" he replied.
"Not here. Anyway, about the prize..." my voice withered at his glower.
"You can't afford it, not when you've gone off the path."
"I beg to differ," and I pulled out a vacuum cleaner from who knows where and presented it proudly. The man's eyes widened.
"I'll give you this whole vacuum in exchange for the prize."
"Done," and he handed over the container and snatched the handle of the machine. "Silly girl, trading a $600 cleaner for a $100 item!"
"Oh, I don't think it was too silly of me. That's a piece of junk. It doesn't work." With that I trounced off and smiled at the barrage of swears he hurled at my back.
"So, where is your project?" she inquired.
"Um, I don't have one. I took this class last semester."
She frowned. "Even last semester students had to make a project to present here. We were expecting such great things from you. Are you really going to fail now?"
My gut writhed. How was I supposed to know that? No one had said anything. I rushed off to get to work on a model car that would be propelled by candles. Each flame would send hot air up towards the blades of a tiny propeller and would force it to spin. This propeller's shaft was connected by gears to the rear axle of the car. It was a clever enough idea, but I simply did not have the time to build it. The stress built until I reached the point of indifference. So what if I didn't complete the course perfectly? I had done everything asked of me and could not be expected to read their minds about other assignments. If I got a C in the class, then I got a C. With that, I sauntered off to enjoy myself at Gen Con.
When I arrived, I saw the expected melange of cosplayers and nerdy T-shirts. In the sea of geekiness I could not find my friend group, but it didn't matter. I had been signed up to participate in some elaborate, interactive storytelling adventure. It stood to reason that whoever had signed me up would also be there. The place where the event was held was sectioned off with temporary walls and tent canopies. Heavy black curtains hung in the entrance, and when someone wished to enter, the ticket collector pulled one of the curtains back only as much as he had to to let the patron pass. Finally, my turn came to enter.
What I saw on the other side did not surprise so much as confuse me. A large walkway led up to a room colored by slime and shadow. The floor was not a floor, but a pit of green glowing goo. Black walkways crisscrossed the room over the goo, and those walkways were marked periodically with green dots. The ramp connecting directly to the walkway had a dot labeled "start". The moment I stepped onto it, another worker popped up in front of me.
"Welcome to the story," he beamed in a half whisper, "I'll be your guide. Have you played before?"
I shook my head.
"Excellent! The way this works is, at each dot along the path, you will be given some information. It may be in the form of text, pictures, videos, anything. Once given the information you will have to decide what to do with it. If you decide correctly, I'll roll my dice and give you a random number of points and you can move on to the next dot. Choose incorrectly, I will roll again to determine how many steps back you have to go. Then you'll have to make a different call from before. Remember! There are many right answers, but far more wrong ones."
"Uh...okay. Was that the clue that I get at this dot or is there something else?"
His smile turned sickly sweet. "Those are just the instructions, sweetie. Here's the information."
Before I could react, he plopped a large helmet onto my head which covered my eyes and a video started to play on a tiny screen built into it. It described how some sort of fish woman had trained her watery companions to live in people and take them over. When not living in humans, it appeared they liked to live in the muck covering the floor of the room I was currently in. A human by the name of Dirk Strider had recently been taken over, though he did not yet know it.
"Now then, what would you like to do?"
"Well, I want to find out how those possession fish work."
"Correct!" And we marched off to the next dot.
We proceeded in this fashion for some time. Every so often I had to go back and fill in the gaps in my understanding by taking a new route. It seemed to be that the possession fish did not simply control someone. They reshaped the person's body into an armored monstrosity that looked somewhat like an imperial drone in Homestuck. They could be driven into submission, and the person would look mostly normal, but "wrigglers" stayed behind in the person's skin and made it difficult for them to move. The fish woman in charge of it all stayed in the shadows of the story.
After my fiftieth time having to go backwards, I was fed up.
"Look, the story's cool and all, but why can't I just go through on my own? Why do I have to be sent back? It's ridiculous and frustrating and your dice hate me."
"If you really feel that way, I could always force you out," he suggested, honey and venom dripping from his words.
"You know what? You can't. You aren't even real, are you?" I didn't know where my words were coming from, but I knew they were true. "I'm going to see this stuff my way."
With that, I stepped off the walkway and onto a side area and through an inconspicuous door. The guide was powerless to stop me.
When I went through, I was amazed to see that I was no longer in the convention center. Heck, I was no longer in the city. An orange sky spread over the world, and a building similar to the palace of Versailles loomed in front of me. I entered and explored the new story lines I found. It seemed that the fish woman's schemes included the enslavement of all living beings the universe over. Disturbingly, some of the people I saw participating in the story seemed to have wrigglers in them. I wasn't sure about that until a man carrying a small girl ran past. I followed, intrigued. He kept running up to little flames burning in the floor, but as he reached them, they went out.
"What are you doing?" I called.
"If I get her on one of these flames, I can kill the wrigglers, but they keep going out!" He huffed.
I wasn't sure how to help, so I moved on. At some point, I came across a ballroom. Scores of people, presumable convention goers by their clothes, danced together with whomever was available. Some boy I thought I'd met once before and school took my hand and pulled me into the dance.
"What's going on?" I shouted over the music.
"I'm not really sure. People just started dancing. I have to do it to get to the next dot. Where are you on the path?"
"Oh," I said, blushing, "I gave up on following the path. I just sort of stormed off on my own."
"Really? Oh well, that's probably for the best. I've been stuck on this path for days. Be sure to look at the conquer of the forks," he recommended just as the dance finished.
"I'll do that," and I skipped off to get more of the story. I was looking at a transparent coffin with Dirk Strider age 82 inside when my friend that I'd been trying to find finally appeared.
"How's it going?" he asked amicably.
"Pretty well. I think I just figured out, I think the point of this entire thing is to mess with Dirk's head. Even when he got old, he just popped back in time to mess with himself and get the ball rolling."
"Well obviously. Everything else the fish woman does is just for show or to mess with Dave, which just messes with Dirk more. Have you seen the forks?"
"No. People keep telling me I should."
"Do it. I can't tell you where it is, since that would guarantee that it isn't there, but keep an eye out."
With that we headed off in our own separate directions, with him on his path and me on my own. After a bit more wandering, I went outside and saw something strange in the distance. It looked like a giant plate of spaghetti, and when I say giant, I mean the size of a city. However, instead of steam, smoke rose from it, and rising from the center of it was a fork with dented and blackened tines.
"The forks!" I cried and rushed towards it, exploring every inch. I know it was fascinating, and I know what I saw made me cry at times, but that part of my dream is blacked out in my memory. It isn't that I forgot it. It's that I was never allowed to remember. Afterwards, I headed back to the Palace of Versailles and pretended not to be disturbed by the memory loss. As I headed through the palace, I came across a man at a prize booth. The first prize for completing the entire story in the shortest time and with the most points was a large container of colored balls that were either candy or toys or both. Whatever they were, I wanted them.
"Excuse me sir. How much for first prize?" I asked as politely as I could. The man stared down at me.
"Where's your guide?" he replied.
"Not here. Anyway, about the prize..." my voice withered at his glower.
"You can't afford it, not when you've gone off the path."
"I beg to differ," and I pulled out a vacuum cleaner from who knows where and presented it proudly. The man's eyes widened.
"I'll give you this whole vacuum in exchange for the prize."
"Done," and he handed over the container and snatched the handle of the machine. "Silly girl, trading a $600 cleaner for a $100 item!"
"Oh, I don't think it was too silly of me. That's a piece of junk. It doesn't work." With that I trounced off and smiled at the barrage of swears he hurled at my back.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Dream Log 21: 4 D
It turns out, dreams can be 4 dimensional. I was able to slip out of the 3D world and walk across the surface of the universe. It isn't quite what you'd expect though. You'd think it would be all warped and freaky looking, but that was just the floor where the normal third dimension was trapped. The rest of the space around me was purple and cloaked in storm clouds. Bars of lightning crackled from the "sky" down to the glassy flood separating me from normal space, and if I stepped back out of hyperspace, I could come out pretty much anywhere.
The first time I stepped out, I happened to run into another hyperspacer. He decided to test my abilities by setting up an obstacle course composed of mousetraps and Popsicle sticks. It was meant to try my flexibility, intelligence, agility, and role playing abilities. I'm not quite sure how that was supposed to work or how it was at all relevant to hyperspace, but the set up looked awesome. Unfortunately, the lightning bars grew thicker, forcing us to go back to ordinary space.
When we came out, we were surrounded by bustling college students with trays of desserts. A big event with lots of potential financial donors was going on, and everyone chipped in to make it as successful as possible. The hyperspacer and I got roped into it as well and the next half an hour of dream time was flooded with pastries and pie trays.
I miss the 4th dimension.
The first time I stepped out, I happened to run into another hyperspacer. He decided to test my abilities by setting up an obstacle course composed of mousetraps and Popsicle sticks. It was meant to try my flexibility, intelligence, agility, and role playing abilities. I'm not quite sure how that was supposed to work or how it was at all relevant to hyperspace, but the set up looked awesome. Unfortunately, the lightning bars grew thicker, forcing us to go back to ordinary space.
When we came out, we were surrounded by bustling college students with trays of desserts. A big event with lots of potential financial donors was going on, and everyone chipped in to make it as successful as possible. The hyperspacer and I got roped into it as well and the next half an hour of dream time was flooded with pastries and pie trays.
I miss the 4th dimension.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Dream Log 20: In Which People Sing
Part 1: Loki's Hat of Wonders
It started with the whole gang from Scooby Doo running around looking for some monster or another. Eventually, they all meet up after the obligatory crazy chase scene, and the villain they were looking for appears before them. Loki is in full armor except for his horned helm.
"You poor foolish humans. Did you think you could outwit me with traps and ploys worthy of an infant?"
Freddie turned red with that comment.
"If you want the hat I stole so badly," Loki continued, pulling a simple black ski cap, "then by all means, take it. Enjoy!" With that, he disappeared in a swirl of smoke.
The gang, confused, annoyed, but ultimately pleased with themselves, headed back to the summer camp they had ditched to go on this adventure. Luckily, no one had noticed their absence. At this point, I joined the group. In fact, I'd been there the entire time. I simply became aware of the fact that I was an acting character. I also happened to be the one holding the hat.
"Guys," I said, "remember what the old man said when he sent us to retrieve the hat? How it was magic?"
"Oh please," scoffed Velma, "There's no such thing as magic."
"Then why would a guy like Loki want to steal it?"
They bumbled some answer about revenge or secret family heirlooms, and I remained quite unconvinced. However, something made me hesitate to put on the hat and test it out. Instead, we kept participating in camp activities like playing chicken or having watermelon eating contests. Eventually though, my curiosity got the better of me.
"Okay, let's start with something nice and simple," I muttered to myself, pulling the hat on, "I wish they had baklava at dinner tonight."
Sure enough, at dinner, the servers wheeled out trays of baklava for dessert. I tried to tell my friend about my wish, but they found the evidence far too coincidental.
"Fine, then I'll wish for something impossible. I wish I could fly." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a slight shift in my weight. My feet weren't getting any purchase on the ground, and soon I hovered at least a foot above it. My heart leaped for joy until I realized that I didn't know how to steer, how to stop, or how to land. I simply drifted off towards the pool and...splash!
"What are you doing in there!" one of the counselors shrieked. I was pulled out of the water, hat no longer on my head, and given a rather stern lecture about inappropriate use of the pool. I wasn't even permitted to retrieve my hat, which bothered me a heck of a lot more than the loss of free time I was punished with.
I was in a daze for the next hour or so. Next thing I knew, everyone had been marched off and split into groups. Fortunately, the divides seemed to fall along natural social fault lines, and the majority of friends were placed together. The counselors were explaining the purpose of this latest activity, something like 4 way capture the flag, when I noticed one of my friends sneaking down to speak to a boy in a different group. They talked, they argued, and finally the boy handed her something and she returned to her position before anyone else noticed.
"Here," she whispered to me, "I saw him fish it out a little while ago."
She handed me the magical hat, still damp from its swim. Before I could thank her properly, the group assembly was dismissed and everyone took up their positions in the game. Almost everyone. I didn't really feel like played, so I sneaked off and contemplated the hat. Why did Loki give it to us? Why can no one else tell what it's capable of? Am I insane? Is the hat just making me delusional? He is the God of mischief after all...
"You!" a boy armed with a sword and a scowl shouted, pointing his blade at me, "What team are you working for!?" I could tell neither he nor the blade was very sharp, but strong was another matter, and I didn't want to deal with this bully. I yanked the cap over my head and thought to myself invisible thoughts.
"Wait, where did you go!? What was...you're weird!" At least I knew now that I wasn't just hallucinating the cap's powers. I wished myself visible once more before removing the hat and wandering off in search of a better hiding place. As I went, I noticed the boy I'd scared running into some other kids. Those kids, angered, chased after him. Others joined, team lines blurred, and a free for all broke out. The counselors that tried to stop it just got a punch to the face for their efforts. It was utter chaos. So that's why Loki let us have the hat, I thought to myself. Next thing I knew, I saw the boy who'd taken the hat and my friend who'd retrieved it standing together awkwardly. Then, the girl began to sing.
"I care about you/ and I hope you do too/ not that I need it/ I don't need shit/ And if I/ start to cry/ it's because a bug flew in my eye/ but really you're kind of great/ as much as I hate/ to say it."
And of course, he replied in song as well. "Don't think I dislike you/ It's just hard to know what to do/ when you've met a pretty girl/ Are these feelings all for real?/ Or is it just a reflection?/ I need some introspection/ Just give me a sec to think it through."
Before I had fully recovered from that awkward spontaneous duet, the hat started twitching in my hand. Somehow, I knew Loki was coming for it now that he'd had his fun watching me do his job for him. Without really thinking about the consequences, I held the hat's brim up to my mouth and whispered.
"I wish Loki could never ever use this hat no matter what other wishes people make to the contrary."
The hat writhed for a moment, trying to accept being cut off from the person that I can only assume was its creator. Then, it went still. Loki was still coming, and he was going to be mad, but I didn't care. I messed up the plans of a Norse God. How many people can say they've done that?
Part 2: Trolls the Musical
I was watching back stage as a man dressed sort of like a pilgrim gave a monologue about his ambitions and how much he hated the world, platonically of course. Then, as he headed off stage, Gamzee cartwheeled on. He had a crazy, nonsensical, slightly disconcerting musical number that made the crowd go wild. At the end of it, the pilgrim came back on stage to reprimand him for his ridiculousness, but Gamzee just shooshed him and led him over to a mirror where he took out grease paint and started decorating the pilgrim's hat. It aggravated the pilgrim to no end, but he made no real effort to stop it.
Soon, another pilgrim came in. He graciously avoided commenting on the first pilgrim's hat while Gamzee wandered off and honked periodically so you could not tell what the pilgrims were talking about. The angry pilgrim (who had taken off his hat to reveal Karkat's stubby horns to the audience's utter lack of surprise) moved to a round pedestal in the front of the stage and informed Gamzee that something urgent had come up and it would be dangerous for them to be seen together. Reluctantly, Gamzee pranced away. (There is nothing as adorably pitiful as someone prancing sadly.)
Somehow, while I had been watching Gamzee, Karkat had mounted a grey horse. He made another monologue, this time in verse, about the trials of a mutant. He was cut off half way when a grim, blue haired soldier mounted on a enormous blue-black stallion emerged on the stage. He was accompanied by a considerably smaller soldier with teal blue hair mounted on a white horse. The two joined Karkat on the pedestal, an impressive feat given how little space their horses had to maneuver up there.
"Mutant," grunted the large blue man, "Her Imperial Condescension is displeased by your existence and offended by your ambition. If you wish to survive another sweep, remove yourself from the public eye. Live in caves if you wish, but I will not hesitate to shoot you upon our next meeting."
"OH YEAH?" Karkat retorted, "WELL SCREW YOU EQUIUS! YOU CAN'T EVEN SHOOT A BOW AND ARROW AND YOUR QUEEN CAN SUCK MY --"
"That is enough," Equius warned, his horse snorting and stamping. I felt bad for the people in the audience right below him. "Were it not for her, I would not have given you warning at all. Come, Terezi," he commanded as he trotted off. The teal soldier held back.
"Actually, I think I'm going to berate the low blood some more. See you later!" Terezi brought her horse around to face Karkat again.
"You're such an idiot. It's adorable."
"SHUT UP."
"hehehe. Why would I do that? Besides, you're almost right."
"ABOUT WHAT?"
"Quiet, I'm giving you a compliment," she snickered, "The Condesce needs to go down, and we have to fight for it, but ticking off the people offering help is not the best strategy."
Terezi then broke into her own song about how to lead a revolution. Half way through, A small, feline girl dressed in green leaped down from the rafters where she'd been hiding and joined the song. When Terezi and Nepeta had finished, Karkat face palmed so hard he unseated himself from his horse, which ran off stage in a panic.
While Terzi and Nepeta chased it down, Karkat received yet another visitor.
"Karkat, dawg, we've got to talk." Dave, who was not only mounted on a horse but was in fact a centaur, trotted on stage.
"UGH, DAVE I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR CRAP."
"No, listen, it's import-"
"AND NOW I HAVE THAT MORONIC SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD!"
"Dude, it's about Ga-"
"WE'VE GOTTA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BITE IN HARMONY!" Karkat sang, horribly off key.
"You know what, whatever man. It's up to you," and with that, Dave trotted off again.
The lights dimmed, gaining a purplish tinge, while Karkat continued to hum the tune. He picked up the hat that Gamzee had decorated, deliberating whether to put it back on or not, when a honk made him jump.
"GAMZEE?" Karkat shouted, looking around for the source of the honk.
"I will paint my miracles," Gamzee's whisper echoed through the theater.
"Gamzee?"
"WITH YOUR BLOOD!"
The curtain dropped.
It started with the whole gang from Scooby Doo running around looking for some monster or another. Eventually, they all meet up after the obligatory crazy chase scene, and the villain they were looking for appears before them. Loki is in full armor except for his horned helm.
"You poor foolish humans. Did you think you could outwit me with traps and ploys worthy of an infant?"
Freddie turned red with that comment.
"If you want the hat I stole so badly," Loki continued, pulling a simple black ski cap, "then by all means, take it. Enjoy!" With that, he disappeared in a swirl of smoke.
The gang, confused, annoyed, but ultimately pleased with themselves, headed back to the summer camp they had ditched to go on this adventure. Luckily, no one had noticed their absence. At this point, I joined the group. In fact, I'd been there the entire time. I simply became aware of the fact that I was an acting character. I also happened to be the one holding the hat.
"Guys," I said, "remember what the old man said when he sent us to retrieve the hat? How it was magic?"
"Oh please," scoffed Velma, "There's no such thing as magic."
"Then why would a guy like Loki want to steal it?"
They bumbled some answer about revenge or secret family heirlooms, and I remained quite unconvinced. However, something made me hesitate to put on the hat and test it out. Instead, we kept participating in camp activities like playing chicken or having watermelon eating contests. Eventually though, my curiosity got the better of me.
"Okay, let's start with something nice and simple," I muttered to myself, pulling the hat on, "I wish they had baklava at dinner tonight."
Sure enough, at dinner, the servers wheeled out trays of baklava for dessert. I tried to tell my friend about my wish, but they found the evidence far too coincidental.
"Fine, then I'll wish for something impossible. I wish I could fly." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a slight shift in my weight. My feet weren't getting any purchase on the ground, and soon I hovered at least a foot above it. My heart leaped for joy until I realized that I didn't know how to steer, how to stop, or how to land. I simply drifted off towards the pool and...splash!
"What are you doing in there!" one of the counselors shrieked. I was pulled out of the water, hat no longer on my head, and given a rather stern lecture about inappropriate use of the pool. I wasn't even permitted to retrieve my hat, which bothered me a heck of a lot more than the loss of free time I was punished with.
I was in a daze for the next hour or so. Next thing I knew, everyone had been marched off and split into groups. Fortunately, the divides seemed to fall along natural social fault lines, and the majority of friends were placed together. The counselors were explaining the purpose of this latest activity, something like 4 way capture the flag, when I noticed one of my friends sneaking down to speak to a boy in a different group. They talked, they argued, and finally the boy handed her something and she returned to her position before anyone else noticed.
"Here," she whispered to me, "I saw him fish it out a little while ago."
She handed me the magical hat, still damp from its swim. Before I could thank her properly, the group assembly was dismissed and everyone took up their positions in the game. Almost everyone. I didn't really feel like played, so I sneaked off and contemplated the hat. Why did Loki give it to us? Why can no one else tell what it's capable of? Am I insane? Is the hat just making me delusional? He is the God of mischief after all...
"You!" a boy armed with a sword and a scowl shouted, pointing his blade at me, "What team are you working for!?" I could tell neither he nor the blade was very sharp, but strong was another matter, and I didn't want to deal with this bully. I yanked the cap over my head and thought to myself invisible thoughts.
"Wait, where did you go!? What was...you're weird!" At least I knew now that I wasn't just hallucinating the cap's powers. I wished myself visible once more before removing the hat and wandering off in search of a better hiding place. As I went, I noticed the boy I'd scared running into some other kids. Those kids, angered, chased after him. Others joined, team lines blurred, and a free for all broke out. The counselors that tried to stop it just got a punch to the face for their efforts. It was utter chaos. So that's why Loki let us have the hat, I thought to myself. Next thing I knew, I saw the boy who'd taken the hat and my friend who'd retrieved it standing together awkwardly. Then, the girl began to sing.
"I care about you/ and I hope you do too/ not that I need it/ I don't need shit/ And if I/ start to cry/ it's because a bug flew in my eye/ but really you're kind of great/ as much as I hate/ to say it."
And of course, he replied in song as well. "Don't think I dislike you/ It's just hard to know what to do/ when you've met a pretty girl/ Are these feelings all for real?/ Or is it just a reflection?/ I need some introspection/ Just give me a sec to think it through."
Before I had fully recovered from that awkward spontaneous duet, the hat started twitching in my hand. Somehow, I knew Loki was coming for it now that he'd had his fun watching me do his job for him. Without really thinking about the consequences, I held the hat's brim up to my mouth and whispered.
"I wish Loki could never ever use this hat no matter what other wishes people make to the contrary."
The hat writhed for a moment, trying to accept being cut off from the person that I can only assume was its creator. Then, it went still. Loki was still coming, and he was going to be mad, but I didn't care. I messed up the plans of a Norse God. How many people can say they've done that?
Part 2: Trolls the Musical
I was watching back stage as a man dressed sort of like a pilgrim gave a monologue about his ambitions and how much he hated the world, platonically of course. Then, as he headed off stage, Gamzee cartwheeled on. He had a crazy, nonsensical, slightly disconcerting musical number that made the crowd go wild. At the end of it, the pilgrim came back on stage to reprimand him for his ridiculousness, but Gamzee just shooshed him and led him over to a mirror where he took out grease paint and started decorating the pilgrim's hat. It aggravated the pilgrim to no end, but he made no real effort to stop it.
Soon, another pilgrim came in. He graciously avoided commenting on the first pilgrim's hat while Gamzee wandered off and honked periodically so you could not tell what the pilgrims were talking about. The angry pilgrim (who had taken off his hat to reveal Karkat's stubby horns to the audience's utter lack of surprise) moved to a round pedestal in the front of the stage and informed Gamzee that something urgent had come up and it would be dangerous for them to be seen together. Reluctantly, Gamzee pranced away. (There is nothing as adorably pitiful as someone prancing sadly.)
Somehow, while I had been watching Gamzee, Karkat had mounted a grey horse. He made another monologue, this time in verse, about the trials of a mutant. He was cut off half way when a grim, blue haired soldier mounted on a enormous blue-black stallion emerged on the stage. He was accompanied by a considerably smaller soldier with teal blue hair mounted on a white horse. The two joined Karkat on the pedestal, an impressive feat given how little space their horses had to maneuver up there.
"Mutant," grunted the large blue man, "Her Imperial Condescension is displeased by your existence and offended by your ambition. If you wish to survive another sweep, remove yourself from the public eye. Live in caves if you wish, but I will not hesitate to shoot you upon our next meeting."
"OH YEAH?" Karkat retorted, "WELL SCREW YOU EQUIUS! YOU CAN'T EVEN SHOOT A BOW AND ARROW AND YOUR QUEEN CAN SUCK MY --"
"That is enough," Equius warned, his horse snorting and stamping. I felt bad for the people in the audience right below him. "Were it not for her, I would not have given you warning at all. Come, Terezi," he commanded as he trotted off. The teal soldier held back.
"Actually, I think I'm going to berate the low blood some more. See you later!" Terezi brought her horse around to face Karkat again.
"You're such an idiot. It's adorable."
"SHUT UP."
"hehehe. Why would I do that? Besides, you're almost right."
"ABOUT WHAT?"
"Quiet, I'm giving you a compliment," she snickered, "The Condesce needs to go down, and we have to fight for it, but ticking off the people offering help is not the best strategy."
Terezi then broke into her own song about how to lead a revolution. Half way through, A small, feline girl dressed in green leaped down from the rafters where she'd been hiding and joined the song. When Terezi and Nepeta had finished, Karkat face palmed so hard he unseated himself from his horse, which ran off stage in a panic.
While Terzi and Nepeta chased it down, Karkat received yet another visitor.
"Karkat, dawg, we've got to talk." Dave, who was not only mounted on a horse but was in fact a centaur, trotted on stage.
"UGH, DAVE I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR CRAP."
"No, listen, it's import-"
"AND NOW I HAVE THAT MORONIC SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD!"
"Dude, it's about Ga-"
"WE'VE GOTTA FIGHT FOR THE RIGHT TO BITE IN HARMONY!" Karkat sang, horribly off key.
"You know what, whatever man. It's up to you," and with that, Dave trotted off again.
The lights dimmed, gaining a purplish tinge, while Karkat continued to hum the tune. He picked up the hat that Gamzee had decorated, deliberating whether to put it back on or not, when a honk made him jump.
"GAMZEE?" Karkat shouted, looking around for the source of the honk.
"I will paint my miracles," Gamzee's whisper echoed through the theater.
"Gamzee?"
"WITH YOUR BLOOD!"
The curtain dropped.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Dream Log 19: Choices
If he knew where I was, he'd kill me. Young ladies aren't supposed to sneak around in swamps and long empty rooms without supervision. They might get injured and then who would pay to marry them? Clearly the only thing I should have been concerned about was my market value, but for some strange reason, I couldn't have cared less.
While climbing into an abandoned building half submerged in the mire around me, something moved just outside my field of vision. I dropped low and swept the room with my gaze, but I couldn't see anything more. Of course, the second I stood up again, a streak of color flashed across the room, stopping behind me. A knife pressed to my throat.
"Who are you and whom do you serve?" a female voice commanded me.
"I - I'm not serving anyone, not right now at least. I mean, the Ginsep Chief's in charge of me, but he doesn't know I'm here. I was just trying to have a second alone?" an agonizing second passed before the blade withdrew and my attacker allowed me to turn around and face her.
Her gown enveloped her in a sea of red silk speckled by flower patters of every color. The belt which she tucked her knife into cinched the gown just enough to show how slender her frame was below the miles of fabric. Her face, small and symmetrical, had been painted perfectly white while her lips and eyelids were crimson. Black makeup extended from the corners of her eyes, making a single swirl design on each side, which terminated at her cheeks. Her hair, auburn, pulled up into a bun which held in place a headpiece complete with golden wings. She couldn't have been taller than 4'10''.
"I apologize for my roughness. Like you, I was seeking solitude. Perhaps two solitary creatures could enjoy each others company," she offered, smiling with her lips and begging with her eyes.
"Sure. What brings you here?" I asked, plopping down on an old crate.
"Engagement difficulties. A chief has asked for my hand. My family expects it of me to say yes, for his is a wealthy tribe, but also an oppressive one. I have almost lost my voice in this matter, but I still find myself unable to choose."
Her honesty to me, a complete stranger, touched me, even if I had no clue what she meant by that last sentence.
"Time of no voice?" I inquired.
"In my tribe and in his, if someone asks something of you, you may accept or decline, but you must make a decision. If after two weeks have passed, you have still not chosen, you lose your voice and the person who made the request may decide for you what happens. It is different from simply forcing you to agree. For example, if I lose my voice and the Chief decides I must marry him anyway, I would have to perform all the duties of a wife without any of the rights granted to a woman who marries willingly."
"But then, why would anyone ever not answer?"
"Have you never wished that someone else could make your decision?"
That shut me up. We wandered together in silence for a while. Then, we came across a room full of old instruments, and the lady picked up a violin. The music she drew from it compelled me to dance one moment and sit petrified the next.
"Where did you learn to play like that?"
"I'm not sure. I've never been able to play before, much to my master's displeasure."
"That's it." I said, marching outside to where I'd tied off my boat. I tossed in anything I found in the building that looked useful. Rope, buckets, a handful of canned goods I had the luck to trip on.
"If you want to run away, I'd get in the boat."
"Are you sure this is wise?" she asked, hand toying nervously with the handle of her knife.
"Nope, but the only options we're ever given are A) do what we're told or B) be forced to do what we're told. I'm tired of accepting those as the only options. So are you coming?"
We didn't look back.
While climbing into an abandoned building half submerged in the mire around me, something moved just outside my field of vision. I dropped low and swept the room with my gaze, but I couldn't see anything more. Of course, the second I stood up again, a streak of color flashed across the room, stopping behind me. A knife pressed to my throat.
"Who are you and whom do you serve?" a female voice commanded me.
"I - I'm not serving anyone, not right now at least. I mean, the Ginsep Chief's in charge of me, but he doesn't know I'm here. I was just trying to have a second alone?" an agonizing second passed before the blade withdrew and my attacker allowed me to turn around and face her.
Her gown enveloped her in a sea of red silk speckled by flower patters of every color. The belt which she tucked her knife into cinched the gown just enough to show how slender her frame was below the miles of fabric. Her face, small and symmetrical, had been painted perfectly white while her lips and eyelids were crimson. Black makeup extended from the corners of her eyes, making a single swirl design on each side, which terminated at her cheeks. Her hair, auburn, pulled up into a bun which held in place a headpiece complete with golden wings. She couldn't have been taller than 4'10''.
"I apologize for my roughness. Like you, I was seeking solitude. Perhaps two solitary creatures could enjoy each others company," she offered, smiling with her lips and begging with her eyes.
"Sure. What brings you here?" I asked, plopping down on an old crate.
"Engagement difficulties. A chief has asked for my hand. My family expects it of me to say yes, for his is a wealthy tribe, but also an oppressive one. I have almost lost my voice in this matter, but I still find myself unable to choose."
Her honesty to me, a complete stranger, touched me, even if I had no clue what she meant by that last sentence.
"Time of no voice?" I inquired.
"In my tribe and in his, if someone asks something of you, you may accept or decline, but you must make a decision. If after two weeks have passed, you have still not chosen, you lose your voice and the person who made the request may decide for you what happens. It is different from simply forcing you to agree. For example, if I lose my voice and the Chief decides I must marry him anyway, I would have to perform all the duties of a wife without any of the rights granted to a woman who marries willingly."
"But then, why would anyone ever not answer?"
"Have you never wished that someone else could make your decision?"
That shut me up. We wandered together in silence for a while. Then, we came across a room full of old instruments, and the lady picked up a violin. The music she drew from it compelled me to dance one moment and sit petrified the next.
"Where did you learn to play like that?"
"I'm not sure. I've never been able to play before, much to my master's displeasure."
"That's it." I said, marching outside to where I'd tied off my boat. I tossed in anything I found in the building that looked useful. Rope, buckets, a handful of canned goods I had the luck to trip on.
"If you want to run away, I'd get in the boat."
"Are you sure this is wise?" she asked, hand toying nervously with the handle of her knife.
"Nope, but the only options we're ever given are A) do what we're told or B) be forced to do what we're told. I'm tired of accepting those as the only options. So are you coming?"
We didn't look back.
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