Beware of wild dogs
May. 30th, 2020 09:30![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillThat was certainly an interesting dream.
I was at a gathering or party in what felt like an urban setting, maybe Jingletown. I was talking with a good (unidentified) friend of mine in the parking lot, waiting for more people to show up. A car caught my eye as it pulled in. It was a model with a rounded shape, like a large VW Beetle, or a PT Cruiser, but the really unusual part was that it was decorated all over with clock faces and mechanisms. I said to my friend that it looked like it could have belonged to the Clock King; he didn't catch the reference, and I said that he was a villain in The Flash, whose name was Tockman. Someone got out of the car, and my friend hailed him by saying I thought his car looked like it belonged to Flash on TikTok. I had to correct him as the guy came across the lot toward us.
I don't remember a whole lot about how he looked -- similar to Anthony Stewart Head, I think. This is mostly because, after one searching look, he pulled me into a (gentle) hug of greeting. I thought it was awfully forward of him, but I allowed it; he seemed a little odd, but sincere, not creepy. It was a one-sided hug, more like tucking me into his arm, and my nose didn't even come up to his collarbone. He was taller than I had realized, probably because he was broad to match.
Almost as soon as he let go, he started off toward the end of the parking lot, encouraging me to follow. I realized that there were two others with us, both apparently women (one femme, one rather androgynous). I could sense my friend's consternation as we headed off, gathering that this new acquaintance had something of a reputation for collecting harems. I thought a little irritably that he might at least give me credit for being able to keep my head and make my own decisions, and kept going.
Somehow, from that urban parking lot, we set off on a trail into the hills. It was a moderate incline, winding through oak woodland thick enough that I couldn't see the horizon. I was wondering whether he was leading us off to some secluded spot for some hanky-panky, and I hoped this guy didn't think I was a woman, or didn't care that I wasn't, because he was still rather my type, even if this was kind of irregular... It seemed to be getting dim, like twilight, and I became aware there was an odd noise coming from my new acquaintance, a kind of jarring muffled roar. I fell back to where the androgynous woman was taking up the rear, as the third companion ran on ahead. Then I heard the howling.
"Wild dogs," he said. I ran to catch up, leaving the woman, who was looking around anxiously for the source of the barking and howling. He had stopped making the noise, and he abruptly changed direction. He, I, and the woman in front were now walking along a reflecting pool; there was no sign of the androgynous companion, and I knew she had been found by the dogs. "They'll be after us next," he said grimly, and opened a sliding glass door into a large building (similar to a college, built in brutalist style).
"Won't they be able to track us by smell?" I asked, following the two of them inside. He agreed, and started across the large empty hall. "Close that and lock it," he called to me. I couldn't see any handle or mechanism, and asked how. Coming back, he located a button to the side which would close the door, then did something complicated over it. Moving to the elevator some eight feet to the right, he pressed his hands to the doors, which opened halfway and wedged there. No one would be using that, either. I wondered briefly how wild dogs would know how to use an elevator.
As he started back across the hall, I examined what he had done, and realized that he wasn't just some guy with charisma and a familiarity with the unusual. Following, I called after him, "So, how long have you been a Mage?"
He didn't answer, as he was talking to the soda machine, which was talking back in a pleasant synthetic low alto. The readout bars on the front of the machine that indicated how much of each kind of soda remained started to swap colors, then combine into patterns, and the dispenser cubby on the front spat out a hat, then a pair of sunglasses. Then another.
Once we were all equipped with modest black top hats and almost goggle-like sunglasses, we turned to find that the far end of the hall -- the second leg of the L -- was full of floating, reflective bubbles about the size of a beach ball, irregular like large soap bubbles. The sunglasses were what allowed us to see them, though I don't know what the hats were for. "We can't let them touch us," he said, and began picking his way toward the end of the hall, winding his way between them.
I found out why when I accidentally brushed against one. It was full of subtitles. It stripped away my speech and gave me only printed text when I called out to the Mage. I could see a scene as well, some memory that wasn't mine, perhaps it was his... the text as he spoke told me that he had discovered that these things were bad, as the subtitles were phonetic, and after a while that introduced errors into the language. Imagine, his caption read, after a few years of this, you end up with people trying to communicate and saying only "XXKHGYNZX KRLLSGHX" to each other... it was chaos.
I called out again, saying I needed help, but my text just floated away. I could see him, face pressed against one of the walls, and realized he had probably been hit too -- he was in some sort of waking dream, but he seemed to be pulling himself out of it, rousing...
The next thing I knew we were out of the hall, and the glasses and hats were gone. We were looking through a wall of windows into a large sunlit courtyard full of people. They were standing around aimlessly, not talking or interacting. One woman was in the room with us, and she stepped toward a door to open it for the Mage; apparently they were in the middle of a conversation. "So they're all here?" he said, going through the door. I followed him and the woman out, his second companion behind me. "Yes," she said, as he started looking into the faces of the people. "We've done our best to look after them."
From his comments as he examined the people -- there were maybe 30 or 40 -- and then started making arcane gestures to wake each of them up, this was a group of people he had been seeking for days, maybe weeks. Friends of his, or neighbors, or family, I wasn't clear which. They knew him as they came out of their daze, and smiled at him or thanked him with great relief. I wondered whether they had encountered the subtitle bubbles, or simply been led, pied piper-like, through a portal into Fairyland and lost themselves. I wasn't going to rule anything out at that point.
It was about then that I woke up.
I was at a gathering or party in what felt like an urban setting, maybe Jingletown. I was talking with a good (unidentified) friend of mine in the parking lot, waiting for more people to show up. A car caught my eye as it pulled in. It was a model with a rounded shape, like a large VW Beetle, or a PT Cruiser, but the really unusual part was that it was decorated all over with clock faces and mechanisms. I said to my friend that it looked like it could have belonged to the Clock King; he didn't catch the reference, and I said that he was a villain in The Flash, whose name was Tockman. Someone got out of the car, and my friend hailed him by saying I thought his car looked like it belonged to Flash on TikTok. I had to correct him as the guy came across the lot toward us.
I don't remember a whole lot about how he looked -- similar to Anthony Stewart Head, I think. This is mostly because, after one searching look, he pulled me into a (gentle) hug of greeting. I thought it was awfully forward of him, but I allowed it; he seemed a little odd, but sincere, not creepy. It was a one-sided hug, more like tucking me into his arm, and my nose didn't even come up to his collarbone. He was taller than I had realized, probably because he was broad to match.
Almost as soon as he let go, he started off toward the end of the parking lot, encouraging me to follow. I realized that there were two others with us, both apparently women (one femme, one rather androgynous). I could sense my friend's consternation as we headed off, gathering that this new acquaintance had something of a reputation for collecting harems. I thought a little irritably that he might at least give me credit for being able to keep my head and make my own decisions, and kept going.
Somehow, from that urban parking lot, we set off on a trail into the hills. It was a moderate incline, winding through oak woodland thick enough that I couldn't see the horizon. I was wondering whether he was leading us off to some secluded spot for some hanky-panky, and I hoped this guy didn't think I was a woman, or didn't care that I wasn't, because he was still rather my type, even if this was kind of irregular... It seemed to be getting dim, like twilight, and I became aware there was an odd noise coming from my new acquaintance, a kind of jarring muffled roar. I fell back to where the androgynous woman was taking up the rear, as the third companion ran on ahead. Then I heard the howling.
"Wild dogs," he said. I ran to catch up, leaving the woman, who was looking around anxiously for the source of the barking and howling. He had stopped making the noise, and he abruptly changed direction. He, I, and the woman in front were now walking along a reflecting pool; there was no sign of the androgynous companion, and I knew she had been found by the dogs. "They'll be after us next," he said grimly, and opened a sliding glass door into a large building (similar to a college, built in brutalist style).
"Won't they be able to track us by smell?" I asked, following the two of them inside. He agreed, and started across the large empty hall. "Close that and lock it," he called to me. I couldn't see any handle or mechanism, and asked how. Coming back, he located a button to the side which would close the door, then did something complicated over it. Moving to the elevator some eight feet to the right, he pressed his hands to the doors, which opened halfway and wedged there. No one would be using that, either. I wondered briefly how wild dogs would know how to use an elevator.
As he started back across the hall, I examined what he had done, and realized that he wasn't just some guy with charisma and a familiarity with the unusual. Following, I called after him, "So, how long have you been a Mage?"
He didn't answer, as he was talking to the soda machine, which was talking back in a pleasant synthetic low alto. The readout bars on the front of the machine that indicated how much of each kind of soda remained started to swap colors, then combine into patterns, and the dispenser cubby on the front spat out a hat, then a pair of sunglasses. Then another.
Once we were all equipped with modest black top hats and almost goggle-like sunglasses, we turned to find that the far end of the hall -- the second leg of the L -- was full of floating, reflective bubbles about the size of a beach ball, irregular like large soap bubbles. The sunglasses were what allowed us to see them, though I don't know what the hats were for. "We can't let them touch us," he said, and began picking his way toward the end of the hall, winding his way between them.
I found out why when I accidentally brushed against one. It was full of subtitles. It stripped away my speech and gave me only printed text when I called out to the Mage. I could see a scene as well, some memory that wasn't mine, perhaps it was his... the text as he spoke told me that he had discovered that these things were bad, as the subtitles were phonetic, and after a while that introduced errors into the language. Imagine, his caption read, after a few years of this, you end up with people trying to communicate and saying only "XXKHGYNZX KRLLSGHX" to each other... it was chaos.
I called out again, saying I needed help, but my text just floated away. I could see him, face pressed against one of the walls, and realized he had probably been hit too -- he was in some sort of waking dream, but he seemed to be pulling himself out of it, rousing...
The next thing I knew we were out of the hall, and the glasses and hats were gone. We were looking through a wall of windows into a large sunlit courtyard full of people. They were standing around aimlessly, not talking or interacting. One woman was in the room with us, and she stepped toward a door to open it for the Mage; apparently they were in the middle of a conversation. "So they're all here?" he said, going through the door. I followed him and the woman out, his second companion behind me. "Yes," she said, as he started looking into the faces of the people. "We've done our best to look after them."
From his comments as he examined the people -- there were maybe 30 or 40 -- and then started making arcane gestures to wake each of them up, this was a group of people he had been seeking for days, maybe weeks. Friends of his, or neighbors, or family, I wasn't clear which. They knew him as they came out of their daze, and smiled at him or thanked him with great relief. I wondered whether they had encountered the subtitle bubbles, or simply been led, pied piper-like, through a portal into Fairyland and lost themselves. I wasn't going to rule anything out at that point.
It was about then that I woke up.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-30 18:18 (UTC)