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Coming down with a stomach bug.
Dec. 8th, 2011 01:16 pmLast night I had two hellaciously intense, emotional dreams.
In the first, my wife and I (not Megan and me at this point in the dream, though they would be later) were convicted criminals, playing some sort of sport that would allow one of us to be pardoned. A little bit baseball, a little bit cricket. In any case, I cheated, got away with it, and won; only to surrender myself so that my wife could win her pardon instead. Then, during a distracted moment, I snuck off anyway with another couple of convicts, who neither knew nor trusted me. When we couldn't agree on an escape plan, and a guard approached, recognizing me, I again turned myself in before she noticed that the other guys were convicts, too. I never saw them again.
I was, apparently, a frequent, fraudulent, nonviolent offender, so the guard was chatty and friendly until I elbowed her in the face and took off running. I was almost immediately slowed by a crowd of random civilians (in a setting that resembled my high school but was definitely still some sort of secure facility, in the dream...), and the guard behind me yelled that she was in better shape than I was and I couldn't outrun her in the crowd.
This was true. So I resorted to parkour, leaping across tables and balancing on shelves, until I could get to a recessed ledge high up on the wall, make my way along it, and drop back into foot traffic around the corner, where there was less of an uproar. I managed to go with the flow of the crowd... outside, into winter in the countryside. since I was wearing dark clothing, I had to stay low as I plowed through hip deep snow, trying to get far enough away so that I wouldn't be seen. Just as I reached home, where my wife was waiting for me (and it was an actual apartment building I used to live in, half a mile from my high school but still in the middle of nowhere, and yes the snow got that deep); the police showed up to question her as to my whereabouts. This time, when I surrendered peaceably, they immediately cuffed me and locked me up.
I was only too eager to cut a deal, I explained, because my more ambitious crimes had been prompted by a third partner, never caught nor even suspected, who was presently working with a corrupt cop to find, question, and kill me, so that he could retrieve my share of the lute.
As I realized that I was confessing this to the wrong cop, I woke up.
My second dream was primarily set in Fallen London, the setting for Echo Bazaar. I was working with an anonymous group of gentleman thieves who were robbing the richer neighborhoods blind. When the next manor on our list to burgle turned out to be mine, I stayed silent and co-operative, assuming it was wither a test of my loyalty or a necessary price of my anonymity. But when my young, adoptive daughter turned out to be home, and the thieves began debating whether to hold her for ransom or not, I had to betray and backstab the leader of our gang, who I admired; while staying out of my daughter's sight. I remember that it wasn't just concern for her motivating me: it was shame, because she seemed so certain that I would sweep in and rescue her from the bad men (she kept telling them how doomed they were), and I couldn't bear to let her down.
What stood out about both dreams, even amidst more ridiculous happenings (my cop interrogator in the first dream played out an interrogation scenario using D & D sourcebooks and a choose-your-own adventure book rather than actual interrogation rules, and the pages contained an accurate transcript of what we were saying; or in the second dream, the knife I was going to stab my boss with was in actuality a purple plastic spatula), they both had incredible emotional immediacy and verisimilitude. I felt absolutely invested at every point, complex and conflicted and twisted up at each piece of ethical turmoil or crisis.
In the first, my wife and I (not Megan and me at this point in the dream, though they would be later) were convicted criminals, playing some sort of sport that would allow one of us to be pardoned. A little bit baseball, a little bit cricket. In any case, I cheated, got away with it, and won; only to surrender myself so that my wife could win her pardon instead. Then, during a distracted moment, I snuck off anyway with another couple of convicts, who neither knew nor trusted me. When we couldn't agree on an escape plan, and a guard approached, recognizing me, I again turned myself in before she noticed that the other guys were convicts, too. I never saw them again.
I was, apparently, a frequent, fraudulent, nonviolent offender, so the guard was chatty and friendly until I elbowed her in the face and took off running. I was almost immediately slowed by a crowd of random civilians (in a setting that resembled my high school but was definitely still some sort of secure facility, in the dream...), and the guard behind me yelled that she was in better shape than I was and I couldn't outrun her in the crowd.
This was true. So I resorted to parkour, leaping across tables and balancing on shelves, until I could get to a recessed ledge high up on the wall, make my way along it, and drop back into foot traffic around the corner, where there was less of an uproar. I managed to go with the flow of the crowd... outside, into winter in the countryside. since I was wearing dark clothing, I had to stay low as I plowed through hip deep snow, trying to get far enough away so that I wouldn't be seen. Just as I reached home, where my wife was waiting for me (and it was an actual apartment building I used to live in, half a mile from my high school but still in the middle of nowhere, and yes the snow got that deep); the police showed up to question her as to my whereabouts. This time, when I surrendered peaceably, they immediately cuffed me and locked me up.
I was only too eager to cut a deal, I explained, because my more ambitious crimes had been prompted by a third partner, never caught nor even suspected, who was presently working with a corrupt cop to find, question, and kill me, so that he could retrieve my share of the lute.
As I realized that I was confessing this to the wrong cop, I woke up.
My second dream was primarily set in Fallen London, the setting for Echo Bazaar. I was working with an anonymous group of gentleman thieves who were robbing the richer neighborhoods blind. When the next manor on our list to burgle turned out to be mine, I stayed silent and co-operative, assuming it was wither a test of my loyalty or a necessary price of my anonymity. But when my young, adoptive daughter turned out to be home, and the thieves began debating whether to hold her for ransom or not, I had to betray and backstab the leader of our gang, who I admired; while staying out of my daughter's sight. I remember that it wasn't just concern for her motivating me: it was shame, because she seemed so certain that I would sweep in and rescue her from the bad men (she kept telling them how doomed they were), and I couldn't bear to let her down.
What stood out about both dreams, even amidst more ridiculous happenings (my cop interrogator in the first dream played out an interrogation scenario using D & D sourcebooks and a choose-your-own adventure book rather than actual interrogation rules, and the pages contained an accurate transcript of what we were saying; or in the second dream, the knife I was going to stab my boss with was in actuality a purple plastic spatula), they both had incredible emotional immediacy and verisimilitude. I felt absolutely invested at every point, complex and conflicted and twisted up at each piece of ethical turmoil or crisis.
