The Rain Is Cold
(my soul is colder)
Major post. Lots of thoughts tonight.
I woke up out of one of the most satisfying dreams I've had in the last six months. I've made such a conscious effort to remember it. My attempt at describing this will be extremely difficult, but my struggle to put such a non-linear, absolutely-must-be-there experience into words is a tribute to how vivid this dream was.
It opened up with martial-arts students attacking, and I was one of five people or so defending a seemingly high-priced store. In this dream there were no guns, no major technology; I was armed with a quick, lithe blade. There was furious defense for fifteen minutes against the attack. I was dodging, defending, attacking when able, shouting instructions over the ruckus to my other compatriots. At one point I threw one through a glass-lined priceless item. But no matter; in the end, they were defeated.
I decided that I would go to the enemies fortress to find out what was happening. However, the door to the lair was merely on the west wall of the 'store'. The entire area of this dream took place in an area most of you would picture if you took down most of your walls on your first floor. It was about that large. Even so, I understood somehow that the door was more like a magical portal, that the lair and the 'store' were not really close together, but merely tied together by that link. Going through was dangerous. But I decided to go.
It was a wooden door, and it was open. I could see through to the 'lair', but they could not see me until I crossed the threshold. Regardless, I laid on the ground flat on my stomach, just in case. I saw that the leader of the enemies was talking to his troops, the troops sitting with their back to me, the leader on a platform looking over them (and at me). But then, he reconvened the meeting to the left (as if everything had rotated 90 degrees to the left and moved 10 yards), and everyone sat down, again their backs towards the door. I went in.
I listened in to details of their plan. But then, the meeting adjourned quickly, and everyone began getting up! My only chance was to dive under the table in the back, covered somewhat by a blanket. I saw feet going by me. The troops were on the move. I knew it would be a long time until they got to the 'store', since in reality the distance was great (probably days). Only I could use the portal door.
However, the leader stayed behind, with two small children. I couldn't move. The children (three and four years old) played around on the floor, and one of them spotted me under the table. I looked at him, trying to convince him not to say anything.
"Hello", he said to me.
"Hello", the leader said, but it was to the child. The leader was looking down at some reports, not even realizing the child wasn't speaking to him. "And how are you?"
The leader's voice attracted the child; he lost interest in the man under the table 5 yards away. "Good!" he said, shambling towards the leader. Without a look at me, the leader got up and led the children away.
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. My sword sheathed at my back, I silently crept out from under the table, and snuck back through the door.
Back in the store, I glanced to my right, to the south. In the distance, and I seemed to see them as if they were on the second floor and I was on the first, were the lithe forms of Anna, Sara Luby, and Kristin Frick. Now, I have not talked to nor seen Kristin Frick in six years, Sara once in 6, and Anna three times in five, but my mind is amazing like that: I constantly dream about people. But they were heading to the right, to the west, and I had the thought they were going to take baths. They left my field of view, and I paid them no more attention.
I went to the southeast corner, which was through a doorframe. The entry part was shaped exactly like the beginning of my basement, with stairs going up one side and a door leading deeper into the southeast section perpendicular to the end of the stairs (going down the last stair, you would turn right and go through a door). We had our secrets hidden in here. I don't know what the secrets were, but they were what the enemy wanted. And it was then, looking up the stairs, that I saw that a spy had been caught by Margaret.
Where Margaret had come from in this dream was beyond me. But she was armed, as I was, with two swords, one sheathed above her head, the other out but meant to be sheathed at her side. The point of the naked blade was pointed at a woman I knew. I couldn't place her, though. But I felt like I knew her. And she was a spy. It was my job to terminate her, and she knew that. Sadly, with Margaret holding the sword over her so she couldn't move, I knelt down next to her, and I raised my fist for a flat-palm strike to the center of her chest, to the left of her heart, where I knew sufficient force could render a deathblow. The woman I knew looked up at me with desperate eyes, knowing what was coming, knowing she deserved it. She had been caught, and she should be killed.
"Kiaa!" I roared, and struck with the flat of my palm. The blow hit exactly where it was meant, and the woman gasped in utter pain, arching a little, then took in a harsh intake of breath. I hadn't killed her. I had caused internal damage, but she was still living. Pain contorting her face, she looked at me with severely painful eyes.
"Kiaa!" I roared again, striking her again, but this was not as pure. That stare, and the fact that I was not giving her a clean death, was messing with my concentration. The blow barely hurt comparitive to the first. The woman was still looking at me, pity now mixing with the pain. This is not how I wanted to kill this woman. It struck me again that I could not think of who she was, and that that too was an insult. I struck again, and again, but my cries were softer and my blows not precise or of good technique. I was not ending it correctly. The anguish I felt was severe, and tears welled up in my eyes. After my eighth or ninth strike, I finally pushed away from her. And suddenly, the look in the woman's eyes was one of terror. She glanced in fear at Margaret, still standing above her, and it occurred to me that Margaret hated this woman, and that this woman hated her. The woman thought that if I did not kill her, Margaret would torture her, slowly, to death. But before I could say one word, to Margaret or the woman, to agree or not, three shadowy forms crossed the outer southwest door.
I immediately and silently motioned Margaret to withdraw up the stairs, and she did, drawing her second sword as she did so. I too moved up the stairs, but only halfway. I wanted to see what the enemy was doing. Sure enough, they crept silently, past the bottom of the stairs, through the second doorway leading deeper into the southeast corner. As soon as the passed, I vaulted over the edge of the stairs, landing silently, and sped out the outermost southeastern door, into the main part of the store.
The enemy must have sent this as a stealth team in advance. They didn't know - as I did - that the 'secrets' were actually concealed in the first part of the southeastern section. The second part, through the second doorway, was merely a confusing tactic. They would eventually realize this, and come back to search the first section. When they did, they were vulnerable. I hung by the east wall of the store, thinking about what to do, when I glimpsed movement through the open doorway. They had realized the deception fairly quickly. Still, they were cautiously analyzing the first southeastern room, thinking that no one could be in the store they just came through. Without thinking, I hefted my sword, and threw.
The leader of the three-member stealth team took the sword right through the back, and went down. Immediately, the other two froze. I couldn't see them nearly as well through the door because of the angle. We both waited on each other. I began shifting to the right, and when they did come out, it was an attack and I was bare-handed. The fighting was intense and very long, but blurry in my memory. I remember being able to kill one with his daggers, but the other pushed me back to the armory wall. It was there I grabbed my two swords, katana blades really, a hair over four feet long each. I pressed the attack, finally dismantaling my opponent and killing her. She was skilled, but these were my weapons. I was a master at them.
I walked around the store to the north, fully confident of my abilities. There was a stair there too, and it must have connected (up on the second floor) to the southeastern stair, because at the top I saw Margaret. She had her two swords out, ready to attack. Ready to attack me. The look in her eyes said it all.
I immediately backpedaled away from the stairs, so that she would not have the advantage of upper ground on me. Going at a perpendicular angle, I steeped back about 20 yards from the stairs, and waited.
I heard her coming off the stairs, and then turning the corner, she saw me and stopped.
"Ready?" was all she said.
My one sword was above my head; the other, pointed out towards her. I lowered the tip slightly, like a man bowing in deference to a lady.
She attacked, taking four running steps, stepping on a couch and leaping into the air to attack. Our swords met as I leapt aside, deflecting her blows, and then defending her counterattack. She was slightly off-balance from her leap, and my left sword deflected both her swords into an uncomfortable defensive position, both of the pointing straight up. I slashed across my body with full strength, knocking both her swords flying out of her hands. Elapsed time 5-10 seconds.
She simply smiled at me knowingly as I kept my swords close to her throat. She began walking, neither towards me or away, and I slowly let my swords shift to keep them very tight around her throat, using the curve of the blades to prevent her from moving too quickly in any direction. She was extremely dangerous.
Suddenly, she stopped. She went to say something.
....And then, it was the end of the dream. I knew it was the end because I was outside, at a crosswalk. There was sun, and color, where inside it was dim, and always dark colors and sharp contrast of black and white, if there was any color at all. The crossing guard, holding his stop sign and wearing his orange vest, said something important to me. It was profoundly important. But I couldn't remember it.
THE END
...Now, writing down this dream, it stunned me how much could be read into it. In a lot of ways, I'm a psychoanalyst's dream (ironic) : I dream a ton, for long periods of time, and almost always about people I know. If I know you, you've most likely been in a dream I've had. But I don't decide on what I dream. I don't even have consistent dream patterns. Some of the happiest moments and saddest moments I've experienced have been in them. People I know have done horrible things, strange things, intriguing things, sick things, great, noble things, and questionable things in my dreams, all way worse (or better) than this. So, analyze if you wish, but this is merely one drop in the sea, as the saying goes.
All of this is probably because of the strong imagination I have. Now you see why I write fantasy? Because if I don't, I think, wonder, and dream it anyway without trying!
I would write more, but it took a ton out of me just to get that all down. But there's a story for you, of sorts. The work day, Nate's missing Christmas party, and Julie will just have to wait.
What does it say that I make reality once again subordinate to fantasy?
Major post. Lots of thoughts tonight.
I woke up out of one of the most satisfying dreams I've had in the last six months. I've made such a conscious effort to remember it. My attempt at describing this will be extremely difficult, but my struggle to put such a non-linear, absolutely-must-be-there experience into words is a tribute to how vivid this dream was.
It opened up with martial-arts students attacking, and I was one of five people or so defending a seemingly high-priced store. In this dream there were no guns, no major technology; I was armed with a quick, lithe blade. There was furious defense for fifteen minutes against the attack. I was dodging, defending, attacking when able, shouting instructions over the ruckus to my other compatriots. At one point I threw one through a glass-lined priceless item. But no matter; in the end, they were defeated.
I decided that I would go to the enemies fortress to find out what was happening. However, the door to the lair was merely on the west wall of the 'store'. The entire area of this dream took place in an area most of you would picture if you took down most of your walls on your first floor. It was about that large. Even so, I understood somehow that the door was more like a magical portal, that the lair and the 'store' were not really close together, but merely tied together by that link. Going through was dangerous. But I decided to go.
It was a wooden door, and it was open. I could see through to the 'lair', but they could not see me until I crossed the threshold. Regardless, I laid on the ground flat on my stomach, just in case. I saw that the leader of the enemies was talking to his troops, the troops sitting with their back to me, the leader on a platform looking over them (and at me). But then, he reconvened the meeting to the left (as if everything had rotated 90 degrees to the left and moved 10 yards), and everyone sat down, again their backs towards the door. I went in.
I listened in to details of their plan. But then, the meeting adjourned quickly, and everyone began getting up! My only chance was to dive under the table in the back, covered somewhat by a blanket. I saw feet going by me. The troops were on the move. I knew it would be a long time until they got to the 'store', since in reality the distance was great (probably days). Only I could use the portal door.
However, the leader stayed behind, with two small children. I couldn't move. The children (three and four years old) played around on the floor, and one of them spotted me under the table. I looked at him, trying to convince him not to say anything.
"Hello", he said to me.
"Hello", the leader said, but it was to the child. The leader was looking down at some reports, not even realizing the child wasn't speaking to him. "And how are you?"
The leader's voice attracted the child; he lost interest in the man under the table 5 yards away. "Good!" he said, shambling towards the leader. Without a look at me, the leader got up and led the children away.
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. My sword sheathed at my back, I silently crept out from under the table, and snuck back through the door.
Back in the store, I glanced to my right, to the south. In the distance, and I seemed to see them as if they were on the second floor and I was on the first, were the lithe forms of Anna, Sara Luby, and Kristin Frick. Now, I have not talked to nor seen Kristin Frick in six years, Sara once in 6, and Anna three times in five, but my mind is amazing like that: I constantly dream about people. But they were heading to the right, to the west, and I had the thought they were going to take baths. They left my field of view, and I paid them no more attention.
I went to the southeast corner, which was through a doorframe. The entry part was shaped exactly like the beginning of my basement, with stairs going up one side and a door leading deeper into the southeast section perpendicular to the end of the stairs (going down the last stair, you would turn right and go through a door). We had our secrets hidden in here. I don't know what the secrets were, but they were what the enemy wanted. And it was then, looking up the stairs, that I saw that a spy had been caught by Margaret.
Where Margaret had come from in this dream was beyond me. But she was armed, as I was, with two swords, one sheathed above her head, the other out but meant to be sheathed at her side. The point of the naked blade was pointed at a woman I knew. I couldn't place her, though. But I felt like I knew her. And she was a spy. It was my job to terminate her, and she knew that. Sadly, with Margaret holding the sword over her so she couldn't move, I knelt down next to her, and I raised my fist for a flat-palm strike to the center of her chest, to the left of her heart, where I knew sufficient force could render a deathblow. The woman I knew looked up at me with desperate eyes, knowing what was coming, knowing she deserved it. She had been caught, and she should be killed.
"Kiaa!" I roared, and struck with the flat of my palm. The blow hit exactly where it was meant, and the woman gasped in utter pain, arching a little, then took in a harsh intake of breath. I hadn't killed her. I had caused internal damage, but she was still living. Pain contorting her face, she looked at me with severely painful eyes.
"Kiaa!" I roared again, striking her again, but this was not as pure. That stare, and the fact that I was not giving her a clean death, was messing with my concentration. The blow barely hurt comparitive to the first. The woman was still looking at me, pity now mixing with the pain. This is not how I wanted to kill this woman. It struck me again that I could not think of who she was, and that that too was an insult. I struck again, and again, but my cries were softer and my blows not precise or of good technique. I was not ending it correctly. The anguish I felt was severe, and tears welled up in my eyes. After my eighth or ninth strike, I finally pushed away from her. And suddenly, the look in the woman's eyes was one of terror. She glanced in fear at Margaret, still standing above her, and it occurred to me that Margaret hated this woman, and that this woman hated her. The woman thought that if I did not kill her, Margaret would torture her, slowly, to death. But before I could say one word, to Margaret or the woman, to agree or not, three shadowy forms crossed the outer southwest door.
I immediately and silently motioned Margaret to withdraw up the stairs, and she did, drawing her second sword as she did so. I too moved up the stairs, but only halfway. I wanted to see what the enemy was doing. Sure enough, they crept silently, past the bottom of the stairs, through the second doorway leading deeper into the southeast corner. As soon as the passed, I vaulted over the edge of the stairs, landing silently, and sped out the outermost southeastern door, into the main part of the store.
The enemy must have sent this as a stealth team in advance. They didn't know - as I did - that the 'secrets' were actually concealed in the first part of the southeastern section. The second part, through the second doorway, was merely a confusing tactic. They would eventually realize this, and come back to search the first section. When they did, they were vulnerable. I hung by the east wall of the store, thinking about what to do, when I glimpsed movement through the open doorway. They had realized the deception fairly quickly. Still, they were cautiously analyzing the first southeastern room, thinking that no one could be in the store they just came through. Without thinking, I hefted my sword, and threw.
The leader of the three-member stealth team took the sword right through the back, and went down. Immediately, the other two froze. I couldn't see them nearly as well through the door because of the angle. We both waited on each other. I began shifting to the right, and when they did come out, it was an attack and I was bare-handed. The fighting was intense and very long, but blurry in my memory. I remember being able to kill one with his daggers, but the other pushed me back to the armory wall. It was there I grabbed my two swords, katana blades really, a hair over four feet long each. I pressed the attack, finally dismantaling my opponent and killing her. She was skilled, but these were my weapons. I was a master at them.
I walked around the store to the north, fully confident of my abilities. There was a stair there too, and it must have connected (up on the second floor) to the southeastern stair, because at the top I saw Margaret. She had her two swords out, ready to attack. Ready to attack me. The look in her eyes said it all.
I immediately backpedaled away from the stairs, so that she would not have the advantage of upper ground on me. Going at a perpendicular angle, I steeped back about 20 yards from the stairs, and waited.
I heard her coming off the stairs, and then turning the corner, she saw me and stopped.
"Ready?" was all she said.
My one sword was above my head; the other, pointed out towards her. I lowered the tip slightly, like a man bowing in deference to a lady.
She attacked, taking four running steps, stepping on a couch and leaping into the air to attack. Our swords met as I leapt aside, deflecting her blows, and then defending her counterattack. She was slightly off-balance from her leap, and my left sword deflected both her swords into an uncomfortable defensive position, both of the pointing straight up. I slashed across my body with full strength, knocking both her swords flying out of her hands. Elapsed time 5-10 seconds.
She simply smiled at me knowingly as I kept my swords close to her throat. She began walking, neither towards me or away, and I slowly let my swords shift to keep them very tight around her throat, using the curve of the blades to prevent her from moving too quickly in any direction. She was extremely dangerous.
Suddenly, she stopped. She went to say something.
....And then, it was the end of the dream. I knew it was the end because I was outside, at a crosswalk. There was sun, and color, where inside it was dim, and always dark colors and sharp contrast of black and white, if there was any color at all. The crossing guard, holding his stop sign and wearing his orange vest, said something important to me. It was profoundly important. But I couldn't remember it.
THE END
...Now, writing down this dream, it stunned me how much could be read into it. In a lot of ways, I'm a psychoanalyst's dream (ironic) : I dream a ton, for long periods of time, and almost always about people I know. If I know you, you've most likely been in a dream I've had. But I don't decide on what I dream. I don't even have consistent dream patterns. Some of the happiest moments and saddest moments I've experienced have been in them. People I know have done horrible things, strange things, intriguing things, sick things, great, noble things, and questionable things in my dreams, all way worse (or better) than this. So, analyze if you wish, but this is merely one drop in the sea, as the saying goes.
All of this is probably because of the strong imagination I have. Now you see why I write fantasy? Because if I don't, I think, wonder, and dream it anyway without trying!
I would write more, but it took a ton out of me just to get that all down. But there's a story for you, of sorts. The work day, Nate's missing Christmas party, and Julie will just have to wait.
What does it say that I make reality once again subordinate to fantasy?
Labels: Reality Has Nothing On Me
posted by Mat | 10:04 PM
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