Free Association

(verbatim and untouched)

Where do you think you can go, with all the weight of the world behind you? Disassociate. Stop thinking. Free association writing is that, after all. Don't worry about the insights, the looks into the imnd. The misspellings, like that one. Your eyes are still closed, you've been able to type sentences, paragraphs, entires pages with out ever looking at the screen for years now. FF in the background, night on your lips. Where? Does it come back to the sotry? Bu why fail to get there now/ It doesn't seem to make sense, it's not fair, that everyone has to keep their fingers moving, the sentences coming out, longer for some. Sooner for me? What is the price for all of this? This life, this payment we write through, where can it ever be recalculated? Scary words. What a disturbing thing, these weakk, fleshy sacks, unable to protect themselves, unabl t to hope for anything better, a decaying mass ready to give up the ghost at the first opportunity or sickness or car. Where do they sign? But the few that durvive. What is that, really? Do the good ones die young? If so, what sense life? If life is all. If not... well, then this has point once again. Can I live without that? Without the point, the feeling the passion of the chase? Where is all of the bluebirds, if not for in the birdhouse? Why go there - feel rushing, farther away from the keyboard, only fingers now. A rift of blody and time. Where is this? How long? It seems obvious that everything we do is controlled by human intervention, how to stop it, Maraaret and Martin, where art thou? Marla. Still writing, still living, still doctor, still dying. We all are. But how to die is the question, the scariest perhaps, for to discuss something is to make it a reality. Cliffs? Fiver? Family? Friends? The thoughts o fdeath and night and sleep. For the end of all things, and all times. How to stop the force, how to continue to do more things from spite than love. Hopefully not true, with lights, and the light of the end of the tunnel is Heaven or death. Pick and choose, hop eyou don't lose.

Ever Dream

(of me)

Sometimes, when everything is gridlocked together and you can't get anything out, you need to step into your semi, buckle your seat belt, floor the gas, and blow through everything, consequences be damned.
So.

I have found a second "symphonic metal" band - Within Temptation - which actually leans just a touch more to the symphonic side than Nightwish, my first band. Both are fantastic, but Nightwish still has the edge for its range and its uncanny ability to give me story ideas, in character, plot, and description. Fantastic.
The writing itself is going well. I continue on towards my goal of 10 finished, edited to the paragraph level (overall plot and character work without major gaps), so that some interested parties can read the accomplished work. When that is done, that will constitute some 125+ pages, so that is not an idle comment. I am quite interested in completing it, though.

I haven't talked much about SE due to the possible sale. Ah, well. We will know shortly, probably by the beginning of April - or at least we'll have an idea. But aside from that, work remains the same - still decently interesting, or at least something to do while I write my story.
But the rest...

Damn, why do I write these entries if I can't get my real feelings out here? I feel like this is fluff, nonsense; this is my space to vent, to consider; to praise... to anguish.
And yet I have no feeling of real, not because of the absence of some major insight or emotional paragraph, but because I have no purpose. No singular topic to write on, to really get into.

Family?
Friends?
Love?

Sigh.
If only discussing the topics was as easy as writing those words.

G-Chat Goodness 1

(hilarious)

Mat: The bad: Crime is on the rise, politics are a soul-sucking morass of cheating and honorless backstabbing, and the world is slowly spiraling under the death-seeking shortsightedness of the human race.
The good: Mat Calland is looking fabulous.

Martin: you are a madman
and I want to be you

Luck Be A Lady Tonight

(I will treat you like the Goddess that you are)

I'm heading for the coast!
The East Coast, via Hershey, then AC. Nate's picking me up in about three hours and we'll be off. I'm majorly excited, and I'm taking off Monday, so Sunday is as completely worry-free as Monday is. The crew will be back and rocking this weekend!
I will specifically look forward to my time at the Hold 'Em tables. I feel much more in control of what I'm doing. If I can keep my nervousness down while I'm on the felt, I should do well. I think I'll make good decisions regardless - I'm not that kind of nervous - but in a game like Hold 'Em, the last thing you want is for your opponents to get a read on you. Very, very bad when that happens. But I will pull out all the skills to woo the Lady Luck. She is fickle and impulsive but always fair. I will not insult her. I will offer her my hand, flowers in the other, and take her on a long and gentle walk wherever she would like to go. I will not request anything from her. Whatever she would like to give me, I will graciously accept.
May she and I walk hand-in-hand, if only for a night!

I'll post on Monday at the latest if I can't find an internet connection over the weekend (which is fairly likely). I'll come back with some cash... if I'm lucky!

Oooh...Shiny

(toys for boys)

My new computer arrived today. However, with the PSL End Of Season Spring Party, there was no time to go pick it up from my parents house. No mattter. Tomorrow I'll be taking it home from work. This really is going to be the emphasis for me to do a massive changeover of my apartment. There will be furniture moved, furniture created, and basically a bunch of cleaning needs to be done. I have company coming in - Tom on the 21st, then Julie on the 29th - and the apartment really needed to be cleaned anyway.
It's probably important that I conceptualize what I'm going to do - considering I will now need to rearrange all my current apartment pieces to accomodate the addition of a circular table, four chairs, and an entirely new computer. Not to mention that I probably need to put the computer somewhere, lest it be relegated to the floor. Then there's the issues of how close the two computers should be, window and power outlet issues, walking and space issues, TV lines of sight, and all KINDS of good stuff. Also, I should probably vacuum.
Good rule of Mat: When you find yourself thinking "I should probably vacuum", it's time for bed.
Excellent rule.

Once A Week

(that lasts a year)

It's incredible. Only one week since I blogged last and it feels like two years.
I've started multiple other posts, only not been able to finish them. Luckily I can save them as drafts, so they will be able to get there.
Eventually.
If I ever get a chance to breathe again.
This is Mat, checking in with himself. Hello, hello, testing 1, 2, 3... you are aware that a life that passes by in a rush is never appreciated? That if you're always looking at where you're going you're never looking at where you are?
Take a break. Take a minute. Take a breath.

Allergies? Tonsils?

(ancient Chinese curse is a possibility)

Quick blog update today. I'm sick and missing work. I'm also missing dodgeball. Now you know that I'm REALLY sick.

I got a Mat Quiz response from Maddie last night. I was floored. I haven't talked to her in months. No idea she read the blog. No idea she was still in touch with me after leaving for France for practically ever. Very funny IM though. Had to profile it.

Very tired. I am wearing minimal clothing. My box is gone. I have a cactus.

So much info, it hurts.

The Mat Quiz Results

(oh, the anticipation)

Here are the point total results for the first Mat Quiz. The questions are weighted, some more important than others, and every single answer has a different point total associated with it. Currently, we have one 'Companion' and one 'Despised'. I'm stunned already! Want to know your score? IM your answers and you'll get your point total!

-45 or less: The Antithesis. We are on the fast track to becoming bitter enemies. If there is a second quiz and you get the same low score, you and I most likely will come to all-out blows on sight.
-30 to -44: The Despised. This is concurrent with dislike, different views, and distaste, with only a few similarities between us. You are like having a hot baloney sandwich when expecting a rack of ribs. If we’re currently related or friends, do not panic. There just may be some things about the other that you don't really want to know…
-15 to -29: The Archrival. You are an excellent rival, with just enough similarities to make us respect how much we dislike each other. Your forces and mine will do glorious battle for control of the world and we most likely will enjoy it!
-5 to -14: The Curiosity. We don’t see eye-to-eye, but there are some intriguing similarities nonetheless. We could be good acquaintances, or enemies that don’t realize we like a number of the same things. Find out where the match is and use it!
-4 to +4: The Lover. The perfect split, some likes, some dislikes. If you are female - or even a reasonably attractive male - and are not related or already taken, give me a call. This could be promising. If you are female and related, well, no surprise there. If you are female and taken, consider breaking up with your match right now. And if you are male and reasonably attractive, I generally have my Friday nights free…
+5 to +14: The Collaborator. This bodes well for a good working relationship, a light friendship, or an acquaintance with benefits. And not the Bed Bath and Beyond frequent shopper card, if you know what I mean.
+15 to +29: The Friend. Basis for a good friendship, a burgeoning interest, or both. Spending time together most likely would be fun.
+30 to +44: The Confidant. Excellent friendship or great respect. Someone who you could find mutual interest in, discuss potential love chances, wax philosophical AND silly on the benefits of chocolate. Also possibly, we are related.
+45 or more: The Companion. Fertile ground for rock-solid friendship, romantic lovers, or extremely close relations. Lovers might be so similar as to tick one another off, but friendships and relations could potentially be great.

Don’t like your result? Don’t worry. It’s only one quiz, and a crazy/introspective/desire one at that. What other aspects can there be?
Mat Quiz #2 will be coming…

The Mat Quiz

(how well do YOU score)

I've been thinking of doing this for some time. I'll keep it simple here, only 10 questions. They're all weighted differently too. Answer truthfully, and pick what YOU would pick, not what you think I'd pick. I guarantee you the scoring system at the end will surprise you. So send in your answers (by IM, of course) and find out YOUR degree of Mat!

1) Is it easier to be a woman or a man?
A) Man. Sexist priveleges, no time of the month, no childbirth, etc.
B) Man. They don't have to try and find a half-decent man.
C) Woman. They act like they can't do it themselves, then get men to do it.
D) Woman. They don't have to put up with other women.
E) God must be just losing it at the results of his two-gender idea.

2) How many condiments exist?
A) Um... a lot?
B) 18
C) 11
D) 7
E) 3

3) You are watching a TV show with Mat, discussing the horrendous vocal tones of one of the actors, when you realize that there has been a stuffed shark on his head for at least the last five minutes. The first thought that goes through your head is:
A) "I... what"
B) "Good lord, how childish can you be"
C) "I'm going to drown that damn thing"
D) "I wish I had a shark like that"
E) "I think the shark is looking at me"

4) Dancing -
A) - is for other people. You'll never see me doing it.
B) - is so special! I love it when you're romantically close in a slow dance with a significant other.
C) - should be reserved for special occasions. Weddings, for example. Other than that, no.
D) - is great if its the right kind. Fast dancing = yes. Square dancing = no.
E) - should have died out in the 17th century.

5) Wendy's #1 Biggie Size, with a coke, and 2 orders of 5 piece chicken nuggets =
A) = sickness. Someone get me to a toilet.
B) = trash can for 1/2 of it. No way I'd be able to finish that.
C) = big meal. I'd be stuffed.
D) = excellent lunch choice.
E) = excellent lunch choice... for lunch #1.

6) Some of the best video games are:
A) Tetris, Dr. Mario, Bust-A-Move
B) Soul Calibur II, Burnout 3, Grand Theft Auto III: San Andreas
C) I don't really like video games.
D) Resident Evil IV, Doom III, Medal of Honor
E) Final Fantasy, Secret of Mana, Legend of Zelda

7) Your favorite type of writing is:
A) Nonfiction
B) Fantasy/Sci-fi
C) Romance/Coming of Age
D) Adventure/Horror/Mystery
E) Why don't we go to the movies?

8) If you could change one:
A) The past
B) The present
C) The future
D) Yourself
E) Wait, I don't understand.

9) There are two muffins in the oven.
A) There are? Why? Are we having muffins for dinner?
B) And there are two Gatorades in the fridge.
C) I think you've had one too many muffins.
D) Oh my God, a talking muffin!
E) Two... what?

10) Best place to have sex (or at least some fun):
A) Waterfall
B) Regular bed at home
C) Regular bed at home... during a thunderstorm power outage
D) Interstate 83, at 65 mph
E) Hotel


Send in your answers, you'll get the results...


Tonight is the first night I'm watching the house while the parental units are off to Mom's writing conference. I only need to sleep there though, so I'm heavily debating going to the Pirates game tonight. Oliver Perez vs. Carlos Zambrano. I love me those fantasy implications.... because I love calling DW up and leaving him 130 messages about how much his team sucks.
People think I do this for the baseball aspect. Mortals.

The day is young. Bring on the weekend!

This Shark'll Swallow You Whole

(smile you son of a -)

The above is from the Jaws movie of angryalien.com. They redo movies in 30 seconds... told by bunnies. Jess showed me the site first. It must be seen to be believed... particularly since they just added "It's a Wonderful Life". My favorite movie they do there is the Exorcist (which is probably my favorite scary movie of all time). When the bunnies are going, "The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!" I lose it. The funniest might be The Shining, because of the bunnies going, "Red Rum! Red Rum!" Then I absolutely lose it at "Here's Johnny!"
You can't buy this kind of entertainment!

Another day of health for me. I worked until 9 PM last night, catching up on my backlog of work that I had to do. When I got home, I was tired, but I talked to Margaret, Jess, DW, and TO online, which relaxed me while my door was repaired. The workers went with a classic method of handling major internal damage to a room, namely, the "paint it until you can't see it" method. There was a LOT of paint flying around. I stayed as far away as possible, at my computer, trying not to suffocate on the paint fumes and semi-succeeding.

One of my coworkers was fired today, from the mailroom. My company has always had a history of being willing to hire people, willing to give big salaries and big bonuses, and being not afraid to fire people who don't live up to that. The thing was that this guy (Matt was his name) was universally liked. He was a real nice guy who I ate lunch with sometimes and who was going to be a member of my dodgeball team starting in two weeks. Rumor has it he was late to work, which I suppose creates more problems from a mailroom standpoint then someone in IT. But still, it was sudden, unexpected, and I'm sad to see him go.
It's hard to remember, sometimes, when I'm working in this amazing job with its amazing benefits and its amazing people that if I ever screw this up.... plan B is for me to live in a cardboard box. And that's less than half a joke.

I had a very strong dream about nuclear war last night. It was all about trying to get the family prepared before the bombs fell. It was one of those dreams I was happy to wake up from.

Hopefully it's a reality we'll never wake up to.

Alcohol, Poker, Doors, and Leaves

(all over my carpet)

Here follows the tale of the insane Saturday night of my college friends' visit to my apartment. It's taken a while to tell this story. This is probably because there are parts that I wish I didn't remember. Thankfully, like many bad incidents, this gets funnier as time passes. Now with a (slight) sense of perspective, I can give a (slightly less) unbiased view on the insane turn of events that occurred that fateful night. It was an uncharacteristic night for many of those involved. It may be safe to say it was just one long, strange night.

The name of the game that night was poker, Texas Hold-Em variety, with Nate, Jeff, Dave (DW), Tom (TO), and I all having a $10 buy-in. Alcohol was in amazing abundance - particularly for my apartment, since I rarely drink - and boasted Jack Daniels, Godiva Chocolate Liqueur, Bacardi 151, and Mudslide Mix. But the crown jewel (and the major damage inducer) was the 2.75 liter jug - 'bottle' does not do justice to this thing - of Jameson's Irish Whiskey. Last time, the guys had polished off a 1 liter bottle of Jameson's - which is strong stuff - in one night.
I should mention that I hate (most) drunk people. They annoy the absolute hell out of me. It's one of the reasons that I was never a huge fan of parties at college, and one of the reasons I like the guys - they are some of the few people that I can tolerate them being drunk. Nate gets more talkative, but is always aware of what is going on. Tom gets sillier, although it's not horrendous. Jeff can alternatively be more quiet and more open, but on a calm level. Dave gets more confrontational - again, not to bad levels. And all the guys usually never drank to the point of sickness (which I also hate).
Usually.

As the hands ensued, people got more and more tipsy, except for me, since I wasn't drinking at all. (I was feeling strangely unwell before the drinks even came out. As it ended up, this was the beginning of my sickness.) By 2 AM, Dave and Tom were pretty well gone, and Jeff and Nate were reeling. This didn't stop Nate or Jeff from cleaning up in winnings, however, as they each were up $20 or so late into the night.
Unfortunately, things took a turn for the worse. Tom felt ill and went to the bathroom, but then decided that he wanted some fresh air from outside. I followed him out there, which was a good thing because he collapsed on the hillside in the leaves, too sick to stand. I wanted to make sure he was okay, so I went back upstairs and got my coat, some water, and waited with him outside as he got it out of his system. This was unfortunate because it took a long time, and let me tell you, it is cold at 3 AM in early January. We were out there until almost 4, when it was so cold that Tom had to come back inside or he would freeze on the hillside. I called Nate and Jeff down - both of whom were still a little tipsy themselves - so that we could help Tom onto the bottom of the stairs. He sat down there, and was definitely showing signs that the worst was over, but we waited with him just in case. Jeff rested on the stairs. Nate did about 150 pushups. I was exhausted, but made sure Tom was coherent and would be okay if we brought him upstairs. By about 4:30 AM, he was. We helped him up to the room.
"Oh shit," TO slurred when we got into the room. "Look what Dave did."

We had forgotten about Dave. Dave had not only finished off his helping of Jameson's, he had drank Nate's while it was left unattended. In our absence, Dave then re-deposited the Jameson's all over my carpet. And we had spaghetti for dinner.
But the story doesn't stop there. Dave had had so much that he was incoherent. Nate - tipsy and all - really helped out. Being an RA for two years, he had seen it before, and knew what to do and how to do it. He refused to let Dave sleep - despite Dave's many attempts - and fought a mostly losing battle to have him drink water. Meanwhile, Ambury and I broke out the towels and fought a mostly losing battle to save the carpet. We did what we could, but this was obviously a Force 10 Carpet Buster situation. With the situation nearing full crisis, Tom came to the rescue by - what else? - adding commentary.
"It's everywhere," Tom would say from his prone position in the chair as Ambury and I ran around like headless chickens. "That's not good." Throughout this process, Tom - eyes closed, unmoving - would occasionally be heard in the background, like some unemployed drunken narrator.
With the carpet's life at stake - and consequently, my apartment's security deposit - I borrowed Nate's 1875 Cadillac McOldness and went to Giant Eagle for Comet and trash bags.

There is something very surreal about shopping at 5 AM on Sunday morning. For starters, there were tons of people there. But they were all Giant Eagle workers, who were (as far as I could determine) transferring all the items in certain aisles and switching them with all the items in other aisles. I wondered if they did this just to confuse the customers, who would walk into Aisle 3, which was the cereal aisle last week, only to find out that Aisle 3 was now the feminine hygiene product aisle. The aisle I wanted was now in one of these transitions.
"Excuse me," I said to one of the workers who was standing under the aisle sign that was clearly labeled 'Cleaning Products', "where could I find some Comet?"
"It's getting moved," the guy replied. "Try Aisle 12. Right-hand side."
I went to Aisle 12, which lo and behold was: the baby food aisle. The shelves held, from top to bottom, strained peas, strained corn, strained putrid goop, and Comet. Not just one, either. It was a shelf of Comet products, sitting happily in the baby food aisle.
At 5 AM, you just stop asking questions.

My return from the grocery store came just in time for the highlight incident of the night/morning. Dave was still wildly incoherent, but managed to get across that he had to use the bathroom. Okay - this was a good development. We got him to the bathroom, where we made a big mistake. We let him close the door, which he promptly locked.
"Oh shit," Nate said, hitting himself in the forehead. "That's really bad. Dave, open the door! Dave, unlock the door!" But Dave wasn't responding. After the last half-hour, in which Dave had attempted to pass out an estimated 470 times and was prevented only through the efforts of others, this was dangerous. Dave could pass out and we wouldn't be able to help him, a big issue in his current state. We continued to plead with him through the door for almost two minutes, through which we heard no response. Was he passed out? Was he dead? We had no idea.
"Shaggy, I hate to tell you this," Nate said, "but we have to get in there. If he's passed out, he could be in big trouble."
"I'm on it," I replied, noting that Jeff Ambury was already testing the sturdiness of the door with his shoulder. "Hold on," I told him. "That's not how you do it. Here, look out." And then, calling on four years of Tang Soo Do training, I - without even meaning to - let loose an ear-shatteringly loud kiai and sent a snap-kick towards the locked door. It sounded something like, "KIAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH BOOM"
"Holy shit!" I heard faintly from Miller's direction.
And I obliterated this door. I mean I actually split the doorframe doing it. No joke. The door flew open into the bathroom at about 60 mph and smacked into the wall. Let me tell you, there is something amazingly invigorating about actually breaking down a door. It's twice as fun as it looks on TV.
And Dave? He was just finishing his three-minute pee break. He just really had to go.

So by the time the guys were taken care of, the carpet didn't need to be burned and all had been cleaned as well as it could, it was 6:30 AM. What a total insane night. Usually alcohol is handled so much better than it was that night - I guess it was just a bad night for the group. Let that be a lesson to all those who do imbibe. There were, of course, still the hangovers, my sickness, and the carpet stain... but at least everyone was okay.

Until I get the bill for my new door, that is....

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?