they are all strangers
1. Night of July 14
I was living in a word occupied by two peoples - humans, and droids much like the Cylons from Battlestar Galactica (specifically Centurions, not the humanoid models). Due to some circumstances I had inside information on our relations with them and knew that a war was about to start. From my station on a wall, I looked out on hordes of them on the beach, milling about and seemingly engaged in work. To me, it was obvious they were making preparations for war, but the people beside me were oblivious, so I tried dropping hints without explicitly stating what I knew, since I was sworn to secrecy. Soon enough, though, it became obvious what was happening. Small human troops poured out from the direction of the wall and started mixing in combat with the droids, chaotic and hopeless- the humans were far outnumbered. But then a booming came from the west (the other side of the wall) - everyone recognized it as the sound of our real fighting force emerging. Giant robots began coming over the horizon in the west, piloted by human soldiers. Each one had a unique shape and was hundreds of feet tall. They seemed to be made of metal, but their movements were fluid, torsos flowing and curving as they walked. As each one emerged, the people around me cheered and called out its name.
The transition is unclear, but suddenly I was picked up by something that I knew I had to blindly, trustingly hold on to. We soared over the enemy soldiers, then swooped down. I was large, or they were small; the thing dipped me down so that my body crushed the droids, hundreds at a time, like toppled toy figurines. I held on with both hands. It was easy, and I knew that as long as I was holding on, I couldn't get hurt.
We went inside buildings, through tubes. We covered a lot of grounds, and every so often we would enter a place where I couldn't breathe, or would otherwise die under normal conditions- but I knew I had to trust the thing that was carrying me. It would reach out a hand and press an immaterial substance to my nose and mouth, and I would feel something flow into me, and myself flowing into something else, until I opened my eyes to find myself in a new place, with a mission. The objectives were always simple and nonsensical - obscure tasks that I had to complete in the new world before coming back. The only one I remember is this: we entered a pipe full of water, narrower than my body, but because I kept holding on and didn't doubt, I fit. The carrier touched my nose and mouth, and said "I'll lock up your name for this one. When you can move freely, swim up and breathe." I felt my arms and legs moving through clear water, and came to the surface.
This is where it gets sort of silly. I found myself in a world where everybody is a mermaid. Something was wrong with me, though - I could see my legs were still separated. I had a 3:1 proportion of finning on my left to right legs, connected only at the ankle, as though the fin had been slashed right through the middle or had failed to fuse. I knew my mission on this world was to "fix" that by creating a piece of art. The connection was clearer in terms of what I actually had to do and what it meant while I was dreaming, but now I don't remember...
Memory gap- then I find myself as a little girl walking on a shore. My perspective has shifted to the third person, so while I know I am that girl, I'm watching her from several feet away and contemplating her from a blind point of view. I stop behind a rock and dip the corner of my dress into the water, then use it to dab at my arm. A dark tattoo appears, covering my arm. It looks like a nineteenth century advertisement, and the text is my name: Lyra Mc____.
Memory gap. I am walking down a cobblestone street lined with shops. They are mostly cosmetic shops selling either clothes, haircuts, or makeup. There are theatrical people in the doorways, waiting for customers, twice as tall as I am. (I am not the girl anymore, and have some kind of handicap.) I'm looking for something, and roam up and down the street. Shops begin to close. People are laughing and hauling mannequins back inside.
(The tense reflects something, so I will put grammar on the shelf and record it how it is.)
2. Night of July 15
I am on a ship. (The feel is a lot like the Battlestar Galactica - I haven't even been watching it much lately, so the influence is unexplained.) There is a mystery, the clues of which lead to a safe. I look on as others open it. Inside is a "stick" of incense shaped like an arm protruding from the bottom of the safe, hand knifed. Somebody lights it, and it burns upwards from the arm to the hand. Once the flame reaches the fingertips, the whole arm cracks open to reveal four bars of gold. Suresh (from Heroes) is behind the hand, inside the safe, and carefully snaps a photograph. The brashness of the action shocks me a little; evil forces are at play. Nothing immediately happens.
(There was more, but I don't remember.)
3. Night of July 16
I was at a swim meet. Jack was involved, too. Despite having no memories of how it happened, I was somehow an Olympic swimmer or something of equal implication, and my laps would come later in the meet, so I was still dressed in normal clothes. This dream had the same distinctive feel as some other dreams in the past, of my having been placed in a role, like an actor, without any knowledge of what I'm actually supposed to be doing or who I am. In these dreams, there is an underlying feeling of guilt, because I don't know if I can live up to my role, yet a faint trust in the knowledge that despite the feeling I am myself in the role, not an actor, and thus cannot help but retain all the skills and characteristics innate to me. I suppose I'd describe it as being sure that everything is predetermined and worried that I will screw something up since there's such a narrow line to walk on, yet believing that because I am who I am and everything is predetermined, there is no possible way that things could not go as planned.
Anyway, Jack was already doing a relay that seemed to go on forever, with people forever appearing to replace their teammates. I went to a rack with hooks that supposedly announced the order of swimmers by the order in which their belongings were hung on the rack. There were small backpacks, keychains, etc. I had no belongings, so my marker would be a strip of cloth with my name written on it. But as I looked through the rows, I couldn't figure out when I would be swimming, because there were three or four, seven or eight Mayas on each row. Some names were attached to belongings, suffused with personality, making me feel like a shadow looking for my strip of cloth.
4. Night of July 17
When I dream, I never know I am dreaming, but usually when I wake up I realise it immediately and hang on to the dregs in an effort to remember it later. This dream, though, was so normal in its atmosphere that even now it has the quality of memories, and the knowledge that it didn't actually happen is only intellectual. If I could erase lines of sense and ignore the fact that there was no context or reason, I would still think it happened.
I was just in a room with the people I saw Batman with last night. There was a huge bed that covered almost the whole floor, and everybody was using it as a couch, lying around and talking, laughing. It was chaotic and mellow, full of light, texture, sound, and movement, yet somehow lazy with nothing happening. For some reason (there was one), Watts came up an aisle formed by the bedside and wall on the left, brandishing a sword. It was short and curved, reminiscent of Bilbo's Sting, and it cast a sharp blue light on the wall. The engravings cast no light, so they were crisply shadowed. It was like a spell on the wall, something recalling Zelda: Twilight Princess. Somebody lifted me up from behind, hands under my arms as if I were a baby, and brought me close to the ceiling. I did upside-down push ups against the ceiling.
Gap. Jack and I were in an apartment room belonging to an unknown party (his family?). He had come back from the dentist and was lisping. I wanted to go back to Riverdale, but he needed to watch a movie for a class. I said he could probably return the video to any location after watching it, so it would be okay to bring it to Riverdale. He replied, "Sure, it'll find its way back to Bryn Mawr."
The end.
In the past week:
I made a low desk for myself in the Riverdale house. It's about a foot off the ground, so I just kneel at it with zabuton. Perfect, because I dislike chairs and can just sprawl out and lie down whenever I feel like it. It's constructed of a piece of smooth wood for the tabletop, vertical cinderblocks for the legs, and dark blue painted squares of wood under the cinderblocks to keep dust off the carpet. The materials are cheap, but it actually looks quite nice, and I can stick things (power cords, rolled up papers) into the holes of the cinderblocks to get them out of the way. $22 total, not counting the exorbitant amount of paint used for the squares.
Jack, John and I went to the shelter to pick out the kittens Jack and I have been planning on getting. We got lucky - there was a large cage of six healthy kittens right when we walked in, all climbing up the sides and swatting at people's hands, play fighting and climbing over one another. I've never seen more active kittens at a shelter before. There were two marmalade tabbies, two grey and white, one black and white (beautiful and curious), and one dark tortoiseshell. Jack picked the smaller marmalade, a male, and I picked the tortie. She was the smallest of the bunch, with wide bewildered eyes, mostly a mottled dark brown with only a few spots and streaks of golden brown fur - under her right eye, covering one of her hind legs. The two seemed to get along, simultaneously wrestling and licking one another's ears. We're set to pick them up to-morrow at two o' clock, if all goes well. I'm excited and already love them both, especially the tortie, who shall be named Goma after the lost cat in Kafka on the Shore. <3
I've been job hunting, and seem to have landed myself a job already, at least for the rest of the summer- I'm not sure how the rest of the year will turn out. Ah well - we will see. I'm nervous because I am not so good at interacting with people, and don't know what to expect, but it will probably be easier than I think. As long as I'm making some money, chances of being able to go to Otakon will improve, at least...
The Dark Knight was excellent. Heath Ledger was perfect as the Joker. I don't know if I've ever seen a better acting job in my life.
When I quantify my life, things are going very well, but there's an underlying emptiness that renders my happiness superficial and hollow. I feel better to-day, but yesterday I reached an extreme low. Sometime in the interval between last night and this morning, stupid and light thoughts have been entering my brain and making me laugh, and I don't want to think deeply about anything, but my sense of perspective is screwed up and I feel heavy of soul.
I predict everything will start looking up when the kittens come home to-morrow... :D