Now steady on there, I've not become enamoured with you.
Oh, I'm sure you're lovely but that's for another day.
No, whilst my poor machine is being hammered with installations and downloads I thought I'd type up last night's unusual dreams. And since this place is prettier than Notepad...
-----
I'm in a city. it's a city I've been in before, but it's a city that always changes and never exists, because this is a dream.
In times gone by, this city was a metaphorical and literal stone's throw from a solar panel farm, and the scene of a daring breakout enacted by a trio of renegade Transformers. The robots, not the electronics hardware.
Tonight, the city is bathed in purple, for the streetlights are in a Gothic mood. And it's not so much a purple light washing the streets, merely the coronas of the lamps looking so nice and violet. No idea why, but then this is a dream.
Wherever I am, it's out in the open air and several storeys above the streets, devoid of traffic. it's a calm night, there's a light breeze, and I feel like I'm looking east. To the... north-east of me is the heart of the city, but tonight we don't go there. Once, the towering buildings in the centre exploded, and all was a charred ruin. But not tonight, for this is a dream and it's all been slept away.
To what I assume is the south is a building very much out of place; a cross between a skyscraper and a castle from what glaces we spy. Large glass windows, stone buttresses and gargoyles, all aglow in these deep purple tones.
I catch myself saying aloud; "If only this city were real!" And someone hears me. Someone else is wherever I am, which I now notice seems to be an outdoor patio. No furniture of any kind nor railings to protect anyone who might be out here, but I for one don't seem to need them. I appear to be floating, because this is a dream.
Now who was it that heard me? I both know and do not know the answer, as in the strange way that dreams work everything is simultaneously unknown and exactly as it should be.
It is a little girl, but I can't remember her name, her face or what she's wearing. I do know that she's supposed to be in bed and that's her father coming up the stairs to scold her for opening the balcony door instead, and I think I'm meant to be haunting her. or something akin to it anyway; I feel as if I've been with her for years and she's the only one who can see me, or the only one I choose to see me.
her father looks right through the open doorway and right through me, tell his daughter to go to bed for it is so very late, then returns down the stairs, making way for his other daughter who's just now ascending the (wooden? carpeted?) steps herself - twins, and this one is obviously the favoured one. Seems I've been stuck with the neglected one, the blamed one. Maybe that's WHY I'm here.
I'm wearing a large hat, I've just realised, and I have something in the way of a scarf around my neck. I decide to play a prank. Pulling this scarf over my mouth and the hat down past my eyes, I make sure this second golden child is looking in my direction, and in the way a dream character can, I make it so that my face can be seen but my clothing renders it invisible. Dragging my hat up and my scarf down I flash my obscenely large, sharp teeth in a wicked grin. Oh, how it must look! Some ghastly demonic face floating in midair behind one's own sister, all needle toothed and with those ghastly bulging eyes! No wonder she ran to her bedroom in tears. Oh, the wailing which I assume occured because this is a dream and we skip ahead.
Days, weeks perhaps? I don't know, can't tell, but that scared girl is hiding from something.
Me?
I'm feeling bad about this now, I don't want her to hide from me.
She's hiding in a large box, knees pulled up to her face. Won't help, I've just raised my face through the box from underneath. I'm just a head, pale and demonic, but pretty damn pitiable-looking. She gets a fright and tries kicking me away, shouting all the while, but it's obviously just going straight through me. All the while I'm saying how sorry I am over and over andover, and she calms down when I set my wild hair into bunches. It's amusing apparently. Here I am looking for all the world like a misshapen cross between Ryuk of Death note fame and the Joker back when he looked like a crescent moon like the playing cards, with bizarre purple hair in a pair of pigtails apologising to a little girl. Yes, this is an unusual dream but a dream nonetheless.
We skip ahead again. Apparently there's some sort of football slash rugby game going on down this bright street where we are. I know where this is too though this is a new dream for me. The first girl, the one I was 'attached' to; this game is for her but I don't know why. I've brought some friends to play for her, some sort of pig monsters who don't know the rules and score six own goals in the opening minutes, but it doesn't matter, it's all a laugh and it's all a dream.
This is a while after everything, I think. The scared girl, she's old enough to have dyed her hair blonde and let it grow to differentiate herself from her brunette sister, and she's not scared of me any more. In her words she's 'adopted' me. I'm not too bothered by this.
I don't know what's going on, but it's all a dream.
Oh, I'm sure you're lovely but that's for another day.
No, whilst my poor machine is being hammered with installations and downloads I thought I'd type up last night's unusual dreams. And since this place is prettier than Notepad...
-----
I'm in a city. it's a city I've been in before, but it's a city that always changes and never exists, because this is a dream.
In times gone by, this city was a metaphorical and literal stone's throw from a solar panel farm, and the scene of a daring breakout enacted by a trio of renegade Transformers. The robots, not the electronics hardware.
Tonight, the city is bathed in purple, for the streetlights are in a Gothic mood. And it's not so much a purple light washing the streets, merely the coronas of the lamps looking so nice and violet. No idea why, but then this is a dream.
Wherever I am, it's out in the open air and several storeys above the streets, devoid of traffic. it's a calm night, there's a light breeze, and I feel like I'm looking east. To the... north-east of me is the heart of the city, but tonight we don't go there. Once, the towering buildings in the centre exploded, and all was a charred ruin. But not tonight, for this is a dream and it's all been slept away.
To what I assume is the south is a building very much out of place; a cross between a skyscraper and a castle from what glaces we spy. Large glass windows, stone buttresses and gargoyles, all aglow in these deep purple tones.
I catch myself saying aloud; "If only this city were real!" And someone hears me. Someone else is wherever I am, which I now notice seems to be an outdoor patio. No furniture of any kind nor railings to protect anyone who might be out here, but I for one don't seem to need them. I appear to be floating, because this is a dream.
Now who was it that heard me? I both know and do not know the answer, as in the strange way that dreams work everything is simultaneously unknown and exactly as it should be.
It is a little girl, but I can't remember her name, her face or what she's wearing. I do know that she's supposed to be in bed and that's her father coming up the stairs to scold her for opening the balcony door instead, and I think I'm meant to be haunting her. or something akin to it anyway; I feel as if I've been with her for years and she's the only one who can see me, or the only one I choose to see me.
her father looks right through the open doorway and right through me, tell his daughter to go to bed for it is so very late, then returns down the stairs, making way for his other daughter who's just now ascending the (wooden? carpeted?) steps herself - twins, and this one is obviously the favoured one. Seems I've been stuck with the neglected one, the blamed one. Maybe that's WHY I'm here.
I'm wearing a large hat, I've just realised, and I have something in the way of a scarf around my neck. I decide to play a prank. Pulling this scarf over my mouth and the hat down past my eyes, I make sure this second golden child is looking in my direction, and in the way a dream character can, I make it so that my face can be seen but my clothing renders it invisible. Dragging my hat up and my scarf down I flash my obscenely large, sharp teeth in a wicked grin. Oh, how it must look! Some ghastly demonic face floating in midair behind one's own sister, all needle toothed and with those ghastly bulging eyes! No wonder she ran to her bedroom in tears. Oh, the wailing which I assume occured because this is a dream and we skip ahead.
Days, weeks perhaps? I don't know, can't tell, but that scared girl is hiding from something.
Me?
I'm feeling bad about this now, I don't want her to hide from me.
She's hiding in a large box, knees pulled up to her face. Won't help, I've just raised my face through the box from underneath. I'm just a head, pale and demonic, but pretty damn pitiable-looking. She gets a fright and tries kicking me away, shouting all the while, but it's obviously just going straight through me. All the while I'm saying how sorry I am over and over andover, and she calms down when I set my wild hair into bunches. It's amusing apparently. Here I am looking for all the world like a misshapen cross between Ryuk of Death note fame and the Joker back when he looked like a crescent moon like the playing cards, with bizarre purple hair in a pair of pigtails apologising to a little girl. Yes, this is an unusual dream but a dream nonetheless.
We skip ahead again. Apparently there's some sort of football slash rugby game going on down this bright street where we are. I know where this is too though this is a new dream for me. The first girl, the one I was 'attached' to; this game is for her but I don't know why. I've brought some friends to play for her, some sort of pig monsters who don't know the rules and score six own goals in the opening minutes, but it doesn't matter, it's all a laugh and it's all a dream.
This is a while after everything, I think. The scared girl, she's old enough to have dyed her hair blonde and let it grow to differentiate herself from her brunette sister, and she's not scared of me any more. In her words she's 'adopted' me. I'm not too bothered by this.
I don't know what's going on, but it's all a dream.
