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Deeper, deeper, deeper...

Date: 17-Apr-2014/23:10:25+2:00

Tags: , , , ,

Characters: me, woman, man, second man, grandfather

At some phase in a longer wandering dream I stopped and saw a small white dog that looked sort of poodle-like against a wall. He seemed uncomfortable. For some reason, I decided that he was related to my (now deceased) West Highland Terrier, even though he didn't look particularly like him beyond being white.
me: "So, I have trouble with dogs in dreams a lot. But here, let me pet you."
The dog bristled and contorted, baring some sort of bizarre pointy teeth. It may or may not have bit me...but I steeled myself trying to focus and turn the interaction positive. I stuck with it and eventually got the dog to lay down to be pet.
me: "Now, what you used to have...it was longer straighter fur..."
As I pet the dog and recalled what mine had looked like, he morphed to look more and more like him. He was rolled on his side.
me: "And you liked being dried and combed after a bath. Let's see what I can do, here."
Emboldened by the success of drawing the dog form from memory, I conjured the small red travel blowdryer that I'd used to dry him. I swept the airstream across the length of his body, causing the straight fur to sway as one would expect.
Moving the dryer from my right hand to my left...I tried a conjuring trick of physical memory that has worked before. That's to rub my fingers together until the memory of the wood-handled metal flea comb appeared. I kept talking as I re-enacted the drying and combing.
me: "...the skin on your belly wasn't pink, more gray...and there was fur..."
The transformations continued until I decided I was done with that. I'm not sure it was the dog that morphed or someone/something else in the room that did a transformation into an attractive woman with long black hair and very red lips. She was reclining on a long and low lounge chair.
The woman pulled me close and gave me a very normal-feeling kiss. I sat down next to her on the floor.
me: "See, this is cool. This is using your mind to sculpt things, getting feedback. None of the primitive stuff I'm forced to work with. I think I could be happy somewhere like this, with just a few people who shared my sense of fun."
woman: "You'll be here soon enough."
The woman got up and morphed into having shorter, lighter hair, walking to a kitchen on the other side of the room. She began to tinker with something on the stove.
me: "But I'm here now. Isn't there a way I can stay?"
A man standing nearby laughed.
man: "We've got all kinds of drugs if you want them. Perhaps you should try some IVN-387."
Note I don't remember exactly the name, but it was some letters and numbers.
He went over to a bookshelf and pulled out some object, I didn't know if it was a container or what.
me: "What is it?"
man: "I'm just kidding. You don't want this stuff."
me: "Why not? What does it do?"
man: "I think of it as a poison, or maybe a pure venom."
I noticed there were some iPad like devices around in the room with emails. The people were shifting a bit, but there were several of them milling around the kitchen.
second man: "I've implanted viewing of all the movies from Earth, and you know what I think?"
He began to sing what I perceived to be lyrics from Monty Python's "Always look on the Bright Side of Life".
me: "Yes, that's Monty Python... "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life". I've seen it."
second man: (confused) "Really?"
Note I do not know if it actually was that song, but it was thematically upbeat and along those lines. Essentially however bad things might get, you should look at the good parts.
I tried to keep up with the motions of people around the kitchen, and came back to the woman who was messing with some things on the counter.
me: "If you have been to Earth, who were you?"
woman: (pausing to think) "I was... I was a pushy boy."
I noticed a figure that looked like my grandfather the surgeon, with black glasses and standing in the middle of the room.
grandfather: "Brian! Do not throw your lot in with these people!"
me: "Hello? What?"
Focusing on his face I could see it composed out of seeming pieces of plastic, the glasses built into the face and not being worn on top of it.
grandfather: "These 'cool tricks' you are mesmerised by are outlandishly abstracted. The people in this environment are relying on systems that push amounts of data around that are so gargantuan it could conceal or contain anything. It's layer on top of brittle layer--the very chaotic outcome you are highly attuned to and preach against."
No one else seemed to be able to see him but me. He seemingly transferred from standing into the room onto a magnet on the refrigerator.
me: "Am... I the only one here who can see you? Do you have anything to do with my grandfather, because that's who you sort of look to be simulating."
grandfather: (ignoring my question) "Beware this! It is the chaotic endpoint of the backwards technological methodologies of the Earth you know, and a dead end. If you think you are having trouble now, becoming one of them will create an archaeological nightmare that will just dig you deeper... deeper... Deeper... DEEPER... DEEPER..."
As deeper was repeated, it became louder and more resonant. It created a din of noise that made me vibrate and it was difficult to stay in the environment. Then I awoke.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?