nightmare dream

i dream of a lush green earth, a landscape rolling before me, endless and true. i dream of sleeping under stars when wandering, making do when making one's way. i dream of clothing which, once acquired, is often used, protecting bodies against weather and temperature. i
dream of promise spoken of in seriousness, in which fulfilment means unfurling yourself, and reaching out in both strength and determination, to grasp destiny.

in this world i would sleep under wide shady trees, i would shield my eyes from the sun with a fan to look along the dirt road, i would feel the grass beneath my hand and not wither.

but i already live in a world with lush green scapes, i can already sleep under stars, i am myself a promise unfulfilled, a box of potential unopened.

but anyway

i dreamt of another place last night. of european buildings of brick and stone, wide staircases that accordion upwards, of paintings and precious vases which punctuate the sweeping marble hallways. at one point or at first, i was running around these buildings, trying to get from one door to another, one building to another (so many of these buildings appear separate but adjacent from the outside, but are actually continuous on the inside, especially university buildings, having taken over several townhouses, they often gut them and connect them). some doors were open to me, but other metal grilles were closed, leaving me able to gaze into the rooms and corridors on the other side, but not enter more than my arm. i had a scrap of paper, i was looking for a professor, or a doctor, or an aristocrat. it could have been an aristocrat's house.

then there was a press of people. we wore armour and held steel blades. same place. we had fought our way in the door, now we were crushed up shoulder to shoulder with each other, chest to chest with the household guard. we were a mass of bodies all the way up the stairs, following our leader in his gold armour and helmet to the top. we were shoving and stabbing, pikes waving uselessly in the air unable to come down, all colours and ranks confusingly mixed. shoving shoving shoving. i realised our own duke and leader was, sadly, played by arnold schwarzenegger (or maybe he was arnold schwarzenegger, equally sadly). he reached the top of the stairs before us. it was an ever-so-polite dinner party. lovely dresses, the clink of fine silverware on exquisite china. in the middle of the relatively large but not high ceilinged room, a circular glass elevator shaft, and inside it, part of a rocket was visible. over the twin doors which were open to allow waiters to load things, PRIMITIVE I.

the butler stopped him with a "Sir."

he looked exceedingly out of place, sword in hand, sweaty. "I need to see the Marquis," he said.

meanwhile a table of three young aristocrat girls decided they would not eat what was at their table, but rather take it along with them as a picnic. james dear, they said to the junior butler serving them tea, could you make sure this goes into a basket and along with us on the rocket? certainly madams, he bowed. i shall do it presently.

the Marquis was making his way from the back of the room. a curious light shone on arnie, and right through him. i saw more gold inside of him, simple gold mechanisms of spiral and pendulum and a lot of empty space. he is an android, i realised then. the light shows it.

"Ah my brother-in-law," said the Marquis, straightening his dinner jacket.

"I need to get on that rocket," arnie said. so. arnie is married to the Swiss Countess, the Marquis' sister.

"I have no space left," said the Marquis. "Your wife might give up her seat though."

"I and my wife must be together on it."

"That means I would have to leave someone else behind."

Arnie almost raised his sword. "Very well, I suppose I could remove one of the young ladies from this table." A gasp from one of the three. they were preparing to be outraged when they discovered which one of them it would be. arnie was happier though.

the Marquis was thoughtfully speaking out loud. "It would certainly have social repercussions in our circle, such a slight and at the last moment, but considering these young ladies' rather junior social standing, i suppose it is the lesser of two evils of refusing yourself or leaving someone else behind. Very well." He walked off to continue preparations and dining.

Android arnie, made of gold, turned back to us to tell us to stop fighting.

i personally didn't care who went or didn't. i knew nobody on that fucker of a rocket was going to come back. i just knew. and with a name like that, how could it? baroque patterns and curliques were carved onto the gold plated shell of the rocket, and reflected on the interior wallpaper and handles. how could it ever return.

that wasn't the end of the dream though.

the same or similar building. i am watching a movie, although it is not a movie. it is in a large hall, airy, but not dark. all the lights are on. where we sit, becomes the movie, like a hologram projected all around us. a forest, a seashore, a marketplace. we sit in these places as the actors play out their story of presumably blockbuster proportions in those locations. the story is so unimportant that we are free to wander around the marketplace, though not all the produce can be picked up, nor all the lego pieces played with. i play with a few, trying to make lego work with duplo.

then a pause, and some running around and searching. we have to get back for the movie, it was only an intermission but now we've got too many things to do. i squeeze in time for a haircut but all the barbers are too busy. they offer me a pair of scissors and the option of doing it myself. i take the scissors and stand in front the mirror. my companions are waiting for a shampoo or something. i carefully start snipping in an orderly manner, then grow more vigourous. it becomes uneven, though quite acceptable on the left side. while trying to rescue the weird situation on the right, i notice the lowest row of hair on the back of my head reaches down to my shoulders. i don't remember it being so long. i start on it. measured at first, i cut
furiously close when i don't seem to be getting anywhere (is it growing as i cut it?). suddenly i hold in my hand a clump of it, long, and at the root it looks like or is a row of short soft stingray bones. now for the other side. i cut or pull it off, and to my relief i have the rest in my hand too now. it is also stingray bones at its roots.

i want to get back to the business of finishing my haircut but as i cut i notice that it's getting into my mouth. i try to grab the strands and continue but my mouth is full of hair, i can feel the bristly clumps in my mouth and there's more every second and i am choking on it, choking choking trying to get to the sink to rinse it out because i can't get rid of it any other way.

i suppose i died last night. today is just a dream. with a fucker of a dream like that, there's no way i'm coming back.