Tuesday, October 4, 2011

I'm Not Sure What Just Happened

Start at the beginning. Right.

Last night I had a really fucking weird dream.

I was in this field of flowers, right? This field of endless flowers, flowers as far as the eye could see, filling the horizon in every fucking direction, and not just one type. Every type, roses, aconite, hydrangea, morning glory, lilacs, lilies, orchids, tulips, poppies, and on and on and on, covering all of the land, every square fucking inch of it. They filled the air, too. Petals floated in the breeze, blocking out the sun, choking out the sky. Every breath was saturated with pollen, almost more pollen than oxygen, choking me, sending me into nigh-fucking-constant sneezing fits. The pollen filled my eyes, too, making them itch and constantly fucking tear up.

And there was another smell, too. Just under the pollen was the potent smell of decay. Of wet rot and putrid flesh, only the overpoweringly sweet smell of flowers keeping that from make me sick too.

But the worst part was the rustling.

All around me was the rustling of leaves, the sounds of something moving through the flowers--every fucking flower--everywhere, all at once, a goddamn motherfucking cacophony of constant, quiet, disorienting noises. Part of me wanted to know what was making the sound...but I never checked.

I stumbled through the field for God knows how fucking long when I found someone else, stumbling in the other direction, her hands oustretched, each step she was taking being exceptionally careful, her eyes glassy and unfocused (and, in retrospect, probably actual glass), and I recognized the slight brunette young woman almost immediately as Miss Punchable, from my other dreams, aka probably Penny Balisong, the Queen of Cups.

I wanted to say something to her, wanted to get her attention, but before I could talk to her/punch her, I felt the sun on the back of my neck, and I turned towards it and saw...

And then I woke up in a bed that wasn't mine.

I'm not entirely sure I was asleep at all, either. My eyes still itch and my nose is stuffed up.

I could dance around the issue, but fuck that:

Penny and I have switched places. Her Page has confirmed this (also, I scared her half to fucking death when I was trying to get my bearings, but she seems...bizarrely cool with all of this). I'm not sure how this happened, but the fact of the matter is I am now in Los Angeles and Penny is in Champaign.

She's asked that I don't use her or her sister's real names. For whatever fucking reason, it doesn't matter. She doesn't know what's going on, either. All she remembers is wandering through somewhere with overpowering sound and smells, and then finding herself in my cot with no idea of how she got there.

Tara and her are going to look into it while I see if I can't find a way to get back to Champaign...or at least see if there's something to do out here while I wait.


  1. Not using your real name is smart if you're trying to stay in one place instead of being a Runner. That's why I never use mine, or for that matter my own internet connection for these blogs (gods bless idiots with unsecured wireless networks). Anything else leaves you to easy to trace by anything that has human, or used to be human, minions.

  2. Using her first name wouldn't put her or her family in danger. I mean, if she lived in a small town, fine, but she lives in L fucking A.

    Oh well, it is her call. And if I spend all my time trying to make sense of knife girl I'll never get anything done.