And then the water went dark.
Jul. 21st, 2011 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
matt_doyleWell. I just woke up from an extremely crazy dream that had me almost convinced it was not a dream... despite how consistently surreal it was and how it violated causality. I'm not entirely certain where it began, only how frar back I can trace the threads... I, Megan, and my father were at some sort of expensive outdoor restaurant. Megan and I chased a stray cat, and I accidentally skipped out on my bill. We walked across an open field from there... which is tricky, because there are two open fields it could have been. The grassy field that used to be a block from my Grandma Betty's house, and the farm field running behind my family's old apartment outside Wabasha. I had the distinct feeling at the time that it was the one in Wabasha, however, I went from there to what I think was a birthday party at my Grandma Betty's house (she was very much alive and well, and had remodeled her basement so she could expand her library and had more room for cats...).
While trying to read the books, I was ambushed by a cat that I had dearly loved but hadn't seen in years (a cat that does not exist in the waking world but may possibly have shown up in previous dreams. In case it reccurs later: wide, round green eyes, blotchy grey-blue and white fur, declawed.)
Somehow this segued to me crossing a massive bridge on an unpowered go-cart. The bridge bore a slight resemblance to a bridge on Division Street in St. Cloud... but was about fifty times bigger, bigger than any bridge I have seen or heard of in the real world, with cross-streams of traffic feeding in and out from various highways. In my dream I knew it went to Wisconsin. Braking with my feet while going downhill on a long bridge filled with 60-mph traffic is... interesting, even in a dream.
At the other end of the bridge was not Wisconsin but Utah. I knew that I was lost. I tried to hitch a ride with some friendly students wearing elaborate punk-goth-emo-alternative-what-have-you costumes. They were extremely friendly and obliged. Possibly one of them was a member of an online RPG I play in (but not a member who actually exists, just a fictional person who I knew to be a member...dreams). Rather than taking me where I wanted to go, we all piled out a few blocks later at an outdoor theatrical production of Phantom of the Opera, rewritten so that it would address contemporary social issues, and specifically protest ableism at a nearby college campus. It had been wholly written and acted in by students, I learned... and I ran into my sister Teresa and my brother Thomas, both of whom had heard of the performance separately and decided to come, and who were overjoyed to see me here. They assured me that family could get us home afterward.
The performance was pretty phenomenal -- several of the musical numbers had been re-written (and I swear, they had real lyrics! I just can't remember them!) and at one point they seemlessly worked in "Where Do We Go From Here?" from the Buffy musical episode. I did, however, begin to wonder if this might be a dream, when I realized that I could hear all the song lyrics, but could not make out ANY of the re-written spoken dialogue. I remember comparing it in my head to the frequent inability to read written text in dreams. Before I could devise a test, however, the production ended, and the boisterous students crowded me over to the campus whose actions they were protesting. There, my Uncle Justin found me, and there was a rapid sequence of events I do not clearly recall, ending with Justin and I and a couple other people (family, I think, but do not recall specifics) launching in a sailboat from a secret grotto under a cliff. There was a whole fleet of these sailboats all around us, and in the moonlight I could see swarms of large, glowing fish beneath us, many of them appearing to be fearsomely mutated predators of some variety.
Justin was vaguely concerned by these, but not more than one would be concerned by heavy traffic or road construction, and so I relaxed, and watched the fish eat one another, or bump and investigate the boats on the surface with a sort of detached hostility.
Suddenly the water went dark. I could not see any of the creatures any more. The waves were not reflecting mooonlight. People screamed, and the sailboats began to scatter in all directions. Justin, suddenly realizing we were in an emergency situation but keeping cool, turned the boat around to head back for the grotto. The moment we turned, I had the sensation that something behind me, in or above the water, was watching over my shoulder. There was a frozen moment, the calm before the storm, the last moment in which someone could act before it was too late.
My phone rang. I woke up.
I decided it was time to get out of bed.
While trying to read the books, I was ambushed by a cat that I had dearly loved but hadn't seen in years (a cat that does not exist in the waking world but may possibly have shown up in previous dreams. In case it reccurs later: wide, round green eyes, blotchy grey-blue and white fur, declawed.)
Somehow this segued to me crossing a massive bridge on an unpowered go-cart. The bridge bore a slight resemblance to a bridge on Division Street in St. Cloud... but was about fifty times bigger, bigger than any bridge I have seen or heard of in the real world, with cross-streams of traffic feeding in and out from various highways. In my dream I knew it went to Wisconsin. Braking with my feet while going downhill on a long bridge filled with 60-mph traffic is... interesting, even in a dream.
At the other end of the bridge was not Wisconsin but Utah. I knew that I was lost. I tried to hitch a ride with some friendly students wearing elaborate punk-goth-emo-alternative-what-have-you costumes. They were extremely friendly and obliged. Possibly one of them was a member of an online RPG I play in (but not a member who actually exists, just a fictional person who I knew to be a member...dreams). Rather than taking me where I wanted to go, we all piled out a few blocks later at an outdoor theatrical production of Phantom of the Opera, rewritten so that it would address contemporary social issues, and specifically protest ableism at a nearby college campus. It had been wholly written and acted in by students, I learned... and I ran into my sister Teresa and my brother Thomas, both of whom had heard of the performance separately and decided to come, and who were overjoyed to see me here. They assured me that family could get us home afterward.
The performance was pretty phenomenal -- several of the musical numbers had been re-written (and I swear, they had real lyrics! I just can't remember them!) and at one point they seemlessly worked in "Where Do We Go From Here?" from the Buffy musical episode. I did, however, begin to wonder if this might be a dream, when I realized that I could hear all the song lyrics, but could not make out ANY of the re-written spoken dialogue. I remember comparing it in my head to the frequent inability to read written text in dreams. Before I could devise a test, however, the production ended, and the boisterous students crowded me over to the campus whose actions they were protesting. There, my Uncle Justin found me, and there was a rapid sequence of events I do not clearly recall, ending with Justin and I and a couple other people (family, I think, but do not recall specifics) launching in a sailboat from a secret grotto under a cliff. There was a whole fleet of these sailboats all around us, and in the moonlight I could see swarms of large, glowing fish beneath us, many of them appearing to be fearsomely mutated predators of some variety.
Justin was vaguely concerned by these, but not more than one would be concerned by heavy traffic or road construction, and so I relaxed, and watched the fish eat one another, or bump and investigate the boats on the surface with a sort of detached hostility.
Suddenly the water went dark. I could not see any of the creatures any more. The waves were not reflecting mooonlight. People screamed, and the sailboats began to scatter in all directions. Justin, suddenly realizing we were in an emergency situation but keeping cool, turned the boat around to head back for the grotto. The moment we turned, I had the sensation that something behind me, in or above the water, was watching over my shoulder. There was a frozen moment, the calm before the storm, the last moment in which someone could act before it was too late.
My phone rang. I woke up.
I decided it was time to get out of bed.
