I had a very strange dream last night.
Aieeee, aieeeee! Come, my children, spread ears like elephants, and I will tell you a tale:
I was a young scion of a large family - a middle son - and we lived in a large home-complex in neither the modern age nor any other. My name was Carago, or something similar. It sounded similar to Carvaggio, but was not that. I was disliked in general by the entire family, and I returned their feelings. Cat whose name began with M was similarly the daughter of some similarly statused family, and we were perhaps engaged to be married. It is certain we were sleeping together.
In some way or other I found out or was told of the seasonal Faerie courts.
At some point, the houses which our families owned switched, but they had always been that way. The matter and merit of dreams is beyond my ken.
During the preparations for a large family dinner (or perhaps after, as I may have been cleaning up and eating leftovers) it became obvious that someone was watching me somehow. Sticky notes kept appearing with questions or advice when my back was turned. At one point I ate a mushroom from the leftovers, and the subsequent note expressed joy that I was eating but sorrow that I chose to eat the fruit of the Autumn court. I immediately popped a bit of meat in my mouth, and the next note was cheerful. Finally one appeared which invited me down to the driveway.
I went down and found a bright yellow-orange Volvo station wagon (with a large lion on top?) parked in the driveway (it was now my father’s driveway, at Rosewood in Palo Alto). A man got out of the front passenger’s side, and motioned me in to the driver’s seat. I got in, and he went into the house.
Subsequently I was not driving, but sitting immediately behind the driver.
The men and women in the car welcomed me (there was a man driving, and two women sitting on the passenger side. I have the impression that the car was full, but no memory of who might have been sitting bitch in the center of the back bench. They welcomed me happily.
We drove away, and they inquired whether, as my birthday was soon to hand, they could give me a birthday present. I agreed, and they were delighted. The woman in the front seat passed back a light pink paper bag, the sort one gives birthday presents in. Inside was light pink tissue paper and several black-wrapped packages. In the packages were all manner of toy - a flogger and a whip and cuffs and several other things besides.
We arrived at (Cat)’s family’s house, and I went inside to find her. No one else could see me, and I whispered an explanation to her. After some confusion, she began to understand. I told her that now that I had joined the courts I was invisible to mortal eyes, and that the man whose place I was taking had taken mine in turn. Everyone who knew me would see him as me, but she shouldn’t be startled. Shortly, he would probably fake a death or simply vanish, and take up his own life. I’d see her soon, though, and she wasn’t to worry.
When I went back into the parking garage, the Volvo was gone, but parked nearby was a beat up old blue van. I went over, and my friends were inside. I climbed in and asked what happened to the Volvo, and the woman next to me smirked and played with her nipple clamps while one of the other two explained that they’d needed the extra seat for someone. The space warped a bit, and the extra seat slid into nonexistence. We drove away into the sunset, or perhaps further adventure.
I was a young scion of a large family - a middle son - and we lived in a large home-complex in neither the modern age nor any other. My name was Carago, or something similar. It sounded similar to Carvaggio, but was not that. I was disliked in general by the entire family, and I returned their feelings. Cat whose name began with M was similarly the daughter of some similarly statused family, and we were perhaps engaged to be married. It is certain we were sleeping together.
In some way or other I found out or was told of the seasonal Faerie courts.
At some point, the houses which our families owned switched, but they had always been that way. The matter and merit of dreams is beyond my ken.
During the preparations for a large family dinner (or perhaps after, as I may have been cleaning up and eating leftovers) it became obvious that someone was watching me somehow. Sticky notes kept appearing with questions or advice when my back was turned. At one point I ate a mushroom from the leftovers, and the subsequent note expressed joy that I was eating but sorrow that I chose to eat the fruit of the Autumn court. I immediately popped a bit of meat in my mouth, and the next note was cheerful. Finally one appeared which invited me down to the driveway.
I went down and found a bright yellow-orange Volvo station wagon (with a large lion on top?) parked in the driveway (it was now my father’s driveway, at Rosewood in Palo Alto). A man got out of the front passenger’s side, and motioned me in to the driver’s seat. I got in, and he went into the house.
Subsequently I was not driving, but sitting immediately behind the driver.
The men and women in the car welcomed me (there was a man driving, and two women sitting on the passenger side. I have the impression that the car was full, but no memory of who might have been sitting bitch in the center of the back bench. They welcomed me happily.
We drove away, and they inquired whether, as my birthday was soon to hand, they could give me a birthday present. I agreed, and they were delighted. The woman in the front seat passed back a light pink paper bag, the sort one gives birthday presents in. Inside was light pink tissue paper and several black-wrapped packages. In the packages were all manner of toy - a flogger and a whip and cuffs and several other things besides.
We arrived at (Cat)’s family’s house, and I went inside to find her. No one else could see me, and I whispered an explanation to her. After some confusion, she began to understand. I told her that now that I had joined the courts I was invisible to mortal eyes, and that the man whose place I was taking had taken mine in turn. Everyone who knew me would see him as me, but she shouldn’t be startled. Shortly, he would probably fake a death or simply vanish, and take up his own life. I’d see her soon, though, and she wasn’t to worry.
When I went back into the parking garage, the Volvo was gone, but parked nearby was a beat up old blue van. I went over, and my friends were inside. I climbed in and asked what happened to the Volvo, and the woman next to me smirked and played with her nipple clamps while one of the other two explained that they’d needed the extra seat for someone. The space warped a bit, and the extra seat slid into nonexistence. We drove away into the sunset, or perhaps further adventure.