The Sledgehammer of the Subconscious
Two short dreams, this time...
I was trying to fend off my cats from something harmful. I had a razor blade in my hand, and in my frantic flailing sliced my elder cat Miken across her back. She retreated, blood seeping through her fur. I went back to whatever I was originally trying to use the blade for, sobbing apologies over my shoulder.... until I could see a thick stream of blood working it's way down her right front leg. She was also starting to act very dazed. I abandoned my activity to scoop her in my arms. Warm, copper-scented blood immediately starts soaking the cloth covering my chest and arm. The wound I'd inflicted in an effort to protect her was ever so much deeper than I'd intended... I was crying in earnest now, trying to hold the lips of her wound together, praying it would clot and heal swiftly, begging that she not die in my arms, hoping I could get her to help in time....
Fade to....
In the online game Perfect World, I'm building a second character. I finally reach the level I need for a mount (a piebald polar/grizzly mix), and ride my mount across lands too dangerous for me to walk. My goal comes in sight... the husk of my former character, a much stronger figure that I'd abandoned when the weight of armor and old wounds had become too much. I'd needed the refresher of the younger, lighter tasks, and was now ready and... mostly... willing to re-assume the mantle of the elder.
Oh, and on a practical note for the second dream... character creation/death doesn't work that way in the real "Perfect World" game, nor are there mixed-breed bear mounts... there is a polar bear mount.
I was trying to fend off my cats from something harmful. I had a razor blade in my hand, and in my frantic flailing sliced my elder cat Miken across her back. She retreated, blood seeping through her fur. I went back to whatever I was originally trying to use the blade for, sobbing apologies over my shoulder.... until I could see a thick stream of blood working it's way down her right front leg. She was also starting to act very dazed. I abandoned my activity to scoop her in my arms. Warm, copper-scented blood immediately starts soaking the cloth covering my chest and arm. The wound I'd inflicted in an effort to protect her was ever so much deeper than I'd intended... I was crying in earnest now, trying to hold the lips of her wound together, praying it would clot and heal swiftly, begging that she not die in my arms, hoping I could get her to help in time....
Fade to....
In the online game Perfect World, I'm building a second character. I finally reach the level I need for a mount (a piebald polar/grizzly mix), and ride my mount across lands too dangerous for me to walk. My goal comes in sight... the husk of my former character, a much stronger figure that I'd abandoned when the weight of armor and old wounds had become too much. I'd needed the refresher of the younger, lighter tasks, and was now ready and... mostly... willing to re-assume the mantle of the elder.
Oh, and on a practical note for the second dream... character creation/death doesn't work that way in the real "Perfect World" game, nor are there mixed-breed bear mounts... there is a polar bear mount.