wolven7 | My alarm is causing me to not remember my dreams.

So i set my alarm for four minutes later, gettinng me up at 6.35, all things being equal. I woke up at 6.24. Remembered my dreams, though, or at least most of them.

I'm reading a graphic novel that is a combination of greygirlbeast's short stories, and there is one that is about a world, not unlike Grant Morrison's, wherein the levels of reality intermingle, mix, and meld, and there is a college professor, having a dream, or so he thinks, walking highways that are walkways, and he is an ex-anarchist activist, still plotting and planning, out of class, holding secret meetings, and he is gronfronted on a grassy hill-valley depression, with a slight brick paving under the grass, by a woman in a Panda suit. He knows her, and she begins to lecture him about the nature of his work, and on subtlety, saying that there are times and places where things are required, and times where discretion is the better part.

While this is happening: The impression of xenomorphs, chitinous aliens, warrens, hives, vipers' nests.

There is a spider, larger than a man, talking to the Woman in the Panda suit, telling her of his devotion to her, saying that he will weave her a silk road to span the stars; a web to catch the very worlds. She has, as part of her retinue, a stuffed animal, a pillow that is also a scroll. She has brought it to life, and it loves her.

The hill and valley become the balcony of a small apartment building or motel. And Vice versa. In all of these places, I am observing the conversation between the man and the Woman in the Panda suit. I look out the window, and I see a grey rabbit licking and cleaning another rabbit the colour of a deer, in a fashion usually associated with cats. They chase each other around the yard. The man and the woman are having a heated discussion, now, and the man is making his case, to her, and she is saddened, and I realise that, as she talks, her mouth moves. She is not, in fact, wearing a suit.

A rush of images, as I hear her voice, she speaks of the ways there are to charge forward, to take hills and encampments, without exposing either yourself, or your commrades to certain destruction, and as she speaks, I see her teeth sink into his throat-- a gesture with which he is not unfamiliar, but thenthey Sink In, and her claws rend his chest, beaking his ribs, and she shakes her head... As her monologue continues, I am upset by what i take to be her cowardice, which is not without merit, but seems borne more out of fear, than productive aims. She leaves his body there, and walks away.

She is still speaking, in concepts and memories, communicating the truth of herself, and their relationship. I take small comfort in the fact that I was right about her cowardice, as she has killed herself, in her heavenly palace, stabbed a royal holy knife through her own heart, in her grief, and her Pillow-Scroll and Spider weep over her, as her essence continues to communicate with me.

The Spider has woven the road between the stars, and he and the Pillow have wrapped Her in silk, and placed her in a heavenly cart, to carry her to other heavens. Gold and jewels and wonders tavel silk, between the stars.

I am driving along the road, talking to greygirlbeast on the phone about the stories, which aren't all hers, I've realised, so much as they are mine. Different in style, distinct. I am talking about the story, and the elements, and she compliments me on it, and I say that it is a method I learned from her. A separate female voice interjects, "Then it's a wonder you learned anything at all about/but math." A pause. "Sorry. That was mean." I go on to talk about the process as a smoothie, picturing the components, as I describe them, with the tragedy being the slightly over-ripe banana that holds it all together. greygirlbeast laughs and the other woman on the line says, "Yeah? Well this one's got pomegranate, in it, so...

Our conversation trails off, as I reach an exit to turn around, having missed mine, and I slow down, because the ramp is really quite steep, and I don't want my car to go flying. As I slow down, I realise that there are steps, and as I'm walking i get to the top, and what I thought was the turn around ramp isa part under the bridge. I have no light. It is full dark, under there, and I am without weapons and unprepared, and I know that there are things dressed as people hiding in the dark, waiting for me. I grab the railings, and wrap one foot around, and slide all the way back down, in ten-foot bursts. I wake up

In my half-awake state, I checked the time, and I tried to go back to sleep. No luck, there, but as i tried, I thought about tossing a flashlight up there, to blind the things in the dark, or some kind of a light grenade.

These dreams brought to you by reading the first Lucifer miniseries, before bed, after having not-quite-finished Tales of Pain and Wonder.

Woke up with "Ultima Esperanza" stuck in my head. Now it's that and "The Curse of Milhaven."

Gotta go.