WTF, Subconscious?
Sep. 14th, 2007 10:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillWhy did you present me with a Christmas dream on Rosh Hashana?
Well, okay, so it wasn't a Christmas dream until right at the end. Up until then it was just a dream about Fetches, and walking the Wild Paths. Wild Paths that lead between worlds but will not let you walk them unless you are Wild too, Wild like the Fey are wild. It's one of the ways for humans to escape the Summerlands, but they have to become not quite human to do it. Most of the dream was of myself and someone else (who I got the sense was male and trying to remain hidden) walking the Wild Paths, and of the people we met while he led me home. I'm not quite sure why, given as I was a mortal and he was Fey. It probably have something to do with the capriciousness of they who live outside the worlds . . .
I got back to a path that lead home eventually, anyway, and I was all set to part ways with him, only we got our wrenches mixed up. Mine was made of iron, his was made of something that shone like pewter but was not . . . mithril is the only word that comes to mind, but it was not silver and it was not light. It had weight, because it was meant partly as a mechanical tool but mostly as a weapon. If you clubbed someone on the head with this wrench, their brains would end up splattered over the room. Anyway. Whatever it was, this metal was just as dangerous to our world as iron is to theirs, so he had to come back after me.
The thing is, just as we can't navigate the Wild Paths, they can't navigate this world. It's too full of iron. It won't kill them, it will do even worse and confuse them and weaken them. So there's me, running around with this incredibly dangerous wrench-shaped piece of metal, and theres him running around carrying a piece of iron that is killing him but it's the only link he has to me, so he has to keep it.
I had apparently missed several months, and I belonged to some sort of post-apocalyptic society so everyone had thought I was dead. My coming back was kind of like a miracle that no one expected, since even post apocalyptically everyone knew how to operate machines, heavy farmimng equipment, that kept them alive without knowing how they did it, and my friend Cherryeh (closest I can get to the feel of the name) could even mechanic for them, but everyone had amnesia and I was the only one who even got flashes of the past. Some people thought of me as a waste, since the only thing I was otherwise good for was manual labor, but the people in charge of the community knew that if I could only remember enough, they'd be able to restore the previous age . . .
Anyway, there were trains. The trains worked by something that wasn't steam and wasn't electricity. I rode one, and thought about the inhuman who had brought me home, and visited all my friends to inform them that a) I was still alive and b) what I'd remembered while on the Paths (a lot, the Paths went past quite a bit of human history) and meandered. The Inhuman went in a straight line, which means he eventually caught up to me, or nearly did. I got on a train just before he would have. Trains are big whomping lumps of iron . . . but I saw him, which was enough to alarm me because the iron of this world was killing him, and I couldn't imagine why he'd be here, especially when some female who cared about him, who we'd met on the Paths, had told him not to come. She was some form of sybil, I think.
But I didn't have the pull to stop the train, so instead I did the only thing I could -- extended his wrench to him.
Things got weird. It was still a train, but it was moving along the Wild Paths, and he could be on it because it was not a train of copper and painted polished wood, and it was going away too quickly. I had to run to catch up, which I eventually did, and then I had to help him work it because it was only me and the female who loved him and two adults who followed me, or maybe who I followed doing it, and we were approaching an industrial-revolution town under snow . . . only it wasn't quite snow, it was more like ashes, they burnt and froze, and eventually when we got close enough, it became apparent that the train was Santa's sleigh and that I was there because the city was too full of iron and could block him out but I could make openings.
The city had Christmas decorations, but it was all commercial. Even Santa (yes, it was Santa with a deadly wrench) was all set to give up until I said that all we had to do was put faith back into the commercialism. We did it, slowly at first and then faster. And then suddenly I was in a windowbox conservatory made of glass and burnished copper, like a human-sized hamster ball, and it opened on to a room like I'd love to have, all warm wood and glowing lamps, and an absolutely huge warm bed, so I went to sleep, and . . .
Woke up. It was nine-fifty in the morning.
Services went forty minutes faster today, and the rabbi told a Good Joke. The rabbit normally tells awful jokes, so this Good Joke was something of a Rosh Hashana miracle.
Two steps to being a successful businessman:
1. Never tell them everything you know.
That's it.
Then I came home, changes into not-nice clothing, and biked off to learn Warhammer. Lacha is right, it is all d6+modifier, but I keep forgetting which modifier goes to which roll . . . and these statuettes are going to end up taking all of my time, I can tell. Oh well, there goes my free time next work term . . .
I are sad for BF leaves for Kalamazoo next Thursday, and I prolly won't see him after that till maybe Thanksgiving. [cries] Thank goodness for Intarwebz, at least.
Anyway, my day rocked. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means it will rock longer, louder, and harder. Plus, no Shul woo!
Well, okay, so it wasn't a Christmas dream until right at the end. Up until then it was just a dream about Fetches, and walking the Wild Paths. Wild Paths that lead between worlds but will not let you walk them unless you are Wild too, Wild like the Fey are wild. It's one of the ways for humans to escape the Summerlands, but they have to become not quite human to do it. Most of the dream was of myself and someone else (who I got the sense was male and trying to remain hidden) walking the Wild Paths, and of the people we met while he led me home. I'm not quite sure why, given as I was a mortal and he was Fey. It probably have something to do with the capriciousness of they who live outside the worlds . . .
I got back to a path that lead home eventually, anyway, and I was all set to part ways with him, only we got our wrenches mixed up. Mine was made of iron, his was made of something that shone like pewter but was not . . . mithril is the only word that comes to mind, but it was not silver and it was not light. It had weight, because it was meant partly as a mechanical tool but mostly as a weapon. If you clubbed someone on the head with this wrench, their brains would end up splattered over the room. Anyway. Whatever it was, this metal was just as dangerous to our world as iron is to theirs, so he had to come back after me.
The thing is, just as we can't navigate the Wild Paths, they can't navigate this world. It's too full of iron. It won't kill them, it will do even worse and confuse them and weaken them. So there's me, running around with this incredibly dangerous wrench-shaped piece of metal, and theres him running around carrying a piece of iron that is killing him but it's the only link he has to me, so he has to keep it.
I had apparently missed several months, and I belonged to some sort of post-apocalyptic society so everyone had thought I was dead. My coming back was kind of like a miracle that no one expected, since even post apocalyptically everyone knew how to operate machines, heavy farmimng equipment, that kept them alive without knowing how they did it, and my friend Cherryeh (closest I can get to the feel of the name) could even mechanic for them, but everyone had amnesia and I was the only one who even got flashes of the past. Some people thought of me as a waste, since the only thing I was otherwise good for was manual labor, but the people in charge of the community knew that if I could only remember enough, they'd be able to restore the previous age . . .
Anyway, there were trains. The trains worked by something that wasn't steam and wasn't electricity. I rode one, and thought about the inhuman who had brought me home, and visited all my friends to inform them that a) I was still alive and b) what I'd remembered while on the Paths (a lot, the Paths went past quite a bit of human history) and meandered. The Inhuman went in a straight line, which means he eventually caught up to me, or nearly did. I got on a train just before he would have. Trains are big whomping lumps of iron . . . but I saw him, which was enough to alarm me because the iron of this world was killing him, and I couldn't imagine why he'd be here, especially when some female who cared about him, who we'd met on the Paths, had told him not to come. She was some form of sybil, I think.
But I didn't have the pull to stop the train, so instead I did the only thing I could -- extended his wrench to him.
Things got weird. It was still a train, but it was moving along the Wild Paths, and he could be on it because it was not a train of copper and painted polished wood, and it was going away too quickly. I had to run to catch up, which I eventually did, and then I had to help him work it because it was only me and the female who loved him and two adults who followed me, or maybe who I followed doing it, and we were approaching an industrial-revolution town under snow . . . only it wasn't quite snow, it was more like ashes, they burnt and froze, and eventually when we got close enough, it became apparent that the train was Santa's sleigh and that I was there because the city was too full of iron and could block him out but I could make openings.
The city had Christmas decorations, but it was all commercial. Even Santa (yes, it was Santa with a deadly wrench) was all set to give up until I said that all we had to do was put faith back into the commercialism. We did it, slowly at first and then faster. And then suddenly I was in a windowbox conservatory made of glass and burnished copper, like a human-sized hamster ball, and it opened on to a room like I'd love to have, all warm wood and glowing lamps, and an absolutely huge warm bed, so I went to sleep, and . . .
Woke up. It was nine-fifty in the morning.
Services went forty minutes faster today, and the rabbi told a Good Joke. The rabbit normally tells awful jokes, so this Good Joke was something of a Rosh Hashana miracle.
Two steps to being a successful businessman:
1. Never tell them everything you know.
That's it.
Then I came home, changes into not-nice clothing, and biked off to learn Warhammer. Lacha is right, it is all d6+modifier, but I keep forgetting which modifier goes to which roll . . . and these statuettes are going to end up taking all of my time, I can tell. Oh well, there goes my free time next work term . . .
I are sad for BF leaves for Kalamazoo next Thursday, and I prolly won't see him after that till maybe Thanksgiving. [cries] Thank goodness for Intarwebz, at least.
Anyway, my day rocked. Tomorrow is Saturday, which means it will rock longer, louder, and harder. Plus, no Shul woo!
