Dreams: Bodies, People, Places
Oct. 2nd, 2008 10:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wolven7I'm in an office. It's not a very well-furnished office, but it's pretty large. There are a few desks and tables, cubicle walls, telephones and computers.
I'm downstairs, across the street from the office, in a convenience store. The store is "the office's store," where everyone goes for lunch, or snacks, to hang out and smoke, or whatever. The temptation to hang out and smoke is very high, and I'm trying to explain to people what has gone horribly wrong. No one is in their right bodies. Their minds are the same, their bodies are the same, and they match up, but something is horribly, basically, Wrong. I try explaining it to Beth, a girl I knew in early college days, who rocked the indie-chick look, pretty hard. I can't get the words right. We wander the aisles of the store, which is very small and very large, a fractal of a corner store, and I try to tell her what's wrong, but she doesn't want to understand. We step out the front door, onto the early afternoon New York streets, which are mostly empty. I look to my left, and see myself walking next to someone.
I'm talking to Johnen Vasquez, in the store, and I'm telling him the same things I told Beth, in the same places I told them to her, but I'm saying them better, now.
We're outside, and Johnen is mocking some kid. I tell him to pay attention, because we're talking, and he apologises and listens, again. I realise that he is ridiculously tall, in a purple and gold jester suit, Harlequin-Checked, and he's wearing stilts under the pants. He is around 9 feet tall. Because of the stilts. We continue walking.
I explain that whenever we catch a glimpse of ourselves, in a mirrored surface, we've all been noticing something Off, individually, but we don't want to say anything. It's just a fraction of a second, in the reflection on a glass window, or a particularly shiny piece of metal, and so we've told ourselves to dismiss it, to not think about it. How bad could it be? We must be seeing things. We Are seeing things.
We're in an alley, now. We have taken five steps forward down the New York streets, and we are now in a delivery alley, behind several very large buildings. A permutation of a section of Downtown Decatur, near the Quizno's. We're at the top of a set of steps, there, and it's a dead end. No door, no more steps, just three blank concrete walls. I turn and take the first step back down the stairs.
Each time we see this change in our reflection, each time we catch a glimpse of a shift in our selves, and dismiss it, it's gotten stronger, burrowed deeper into us, and taken greater root. Eventually, slowly, carefully, it has become us, integrated with us, almost replaced us. We have to find a way to separate ourselves from it, so that we can know it, and decide if that change is one that we need.
We're walking the hallways of my elementary/middle school, near the library, but kind of In the library. Difficult to capture. I'm wearing a leather coat with buttons that end at the waist, but tail length that flows almost to the floor, kind of like Sephiroth's coat, but without the pads. I'm carrying a combination of my crowbar, Steve, and the Stop Being Fucked Up Stick. It's a long, thin crowbar, which I'm using as a walking stick, in the halls. People step out of their offices to stare, to askus what we're doing here, perhaps, but they see me, and they stop. As we walk, I realise that it's not Johnen next to me, anymore. I don't know who it is, but I Know him, and I know that he has to go do some work, in the school. I thank him for walking with me, and he thanks me for bringing him here. I think to myself, I've been meaning to come here, recently, anyway. I keep walking, past the lobby, back toward the gym, and the art rooms.
I'm in the car, with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mech_angel and we've just gotten the car from the garage under the convenience store. We're trying to get to raoin's parents' house, to make brownies, or cake, for someone's party, or some occasion. We are lost, in some area of upper Cobb, at a mall, and we realise that this is exactly what happened the Last time we tried to do this. We can't get in touch with raoin, we're tired, we just managed to escape from some kind of prison (possibly the garage; a sense of confinement, there, for a long time). We decide to say fuck it, for now, and we'll come back, later, when we are more prepared, and we have a female navigator, who's been there, before.
Something about Matt Parkman, from 'Heroes.' Something about his trance state allowing him to see the past and future, completely, to reveal memories. His revelation is of everyone he has ever trusted violating that trust, in some definitive way, from the time that he was very small.
I don't remember any more. I think that was where I woke up...
Food, now, I think...
I'm downstairs, across the street from the office, in a convenience store. The store is "the office's store," where everyone goes for lunch, or snacks, to hang out and smoke, or whatever. The temptation to hang out and smoke is very high, and I'm trying to explain to people what has gone horribly wrong. No one is in their right bodies. Their minds are the same, their bodies are the same, and they match up, but something is horribly, basically, Wrong. I try explaining it to Beth, a girl I knew in early college days, who rocked the indie-chick look, pretty hard. I can't get the words right. We wander the aisles of the store, which is very small and very large, a fractal of a corner store, and I try to tell her what's wrong, but she doesn't want to understand. We step out the front door, onto the early afternoon New York streets, which are mostly empty. I look to my left, and see myself walking next to someone.
I'm talking to Johnen Vasquez, in the store, and I'm telling him the same things I told Beth, in the same places I told them to her, but I'm saying them better, now.
We're outside, and Johnen is mocking some kid. I tell him to pay attention, because we're talking, and he apologises and listens, again. I realise that he is ridiculously tall, in a purple and gold jester suit, Harlequin-Checked, and he's wearing stilts under the pants. He is around 9 feet tall. Because of the stilts. We continue walking.
I explain that whenever we catch a glimpse of ourselves, in a mirrored surface, we've all been noticing something Off, individually, but we don't want to say anything. It's just a fraction of a second, in the reflection on a glass window, or a particularly shiny piece of metal, and so we've told ourselves to dismiss it, to not think about it. How bad could it be? We must be seeing things. We Are seeing things.
We're in an alley, now. We have taken five steps forward down the New York streets, and we are now in a delivery alley, behind several very large buildings. A permutation of a section of Downtown Decatur, near the Quizno's. We're at the top of a set of steps, there, and it's a dead end. No door, no more steps, just three blank concrete walls. I turn and take the first step back down the stairs.
Each time we see this change in our reflection, each time we catch a glimpse of a shift in our selves, and dismiss it, it's gotten stronger, burrowed deeper into us, and taken greater root. Eventually, slowly, carefully, it has become us, integrated with us, almost replaced us. We have to find a way to separate ourselves from it, so that we can know it, and decide if that change is one that we need.
We're walking the hallways of my elementary/middle school, near the library, but kind of In the library. Difficult to capture. I'm wearing a leather coat with buttons that end at the waist, but tail length that flows almost to the floor, kind of like Sephiroth's coat, but without the pads. I'm carrying a combination of my crowbar, Steve, and the Stop Being Fucked Up Stick. It's a long, thin crowbar, which I'm using as a walking stick, in the halls. People step out of their offices to stare, to askus what we're doing here, perhaps, but they see me, and they stop. As we walk, I realise that it's not Johnen next to me, anymore. I don't know who it is, but I Know him, and I know that he has to go do some work, in the school. I thank him for walking with me, and he thanks me for bringing him here. I think to myself, I've been meaning to come here, recently, anyway. I keep walking, past the lobby, back toward the gym, and the art rooms.
I'm in the car, with
mech_angel and we've just gotten the car from the garage under the convenience store. We're trying to get to raoin's parents' house, to make brownies, or cake, for someone's party, or some occasion. We are lost, in some area of upper Cobb, at a mall, and we realise that this is exactly what happened the Last time we tried to do this. We can't get in touch with raoin, we're tired, we just managed to escape from some kind of prison (possibly the garage; a sense of confinement, there, for a long time). We decide to say fuck it, for now, and we'll come back, later, when we are more prepared, and we have a female navigator, who's been there, before.Something about Matt Parkman, from 'Heroes.' Something about his trance state allowing him to see the past and future, completely, to reveal memories. His revelation is of everyone he has ever trusted violating that trust, in some definitive way, from the time that he was very small.
I don't remember any more. I think that was where I woke up...
Food, now, I think...
