Friday, November 21, 2008

Dream - On the run

In the morning of April 2, 2008, I had a dream or combination of dreams. Though initially the dream was not too unusual, it changed and became increasingly strange, finally becoming a long story where I ended up running from the law and able to change reality.


In the earliest part of the dream that I can remember, I was driving the 1970 Cadillac, but there was also another car, perhaps dating from the sixties or seventies. There was something about checking or perhaps changing the oil or looking at the waterpump seal. The engine had a lot of space around it, and it was easy to see things.


Then I was back home, in bed. There were some crumbs on the blanket, partly on top, partly underneath. I think that my brother and mother showed up at separate times and then left. I got up, tired. I may have gotten up more than once.

I went toward the hall, then, thinking I was alone but evidently hearing something. The house was filled with a dense fog. I went cautiously forward. I could definitely hear someone then, faintly, at least two people.

Becoming acutely aware that I had just gotten out of bed and was not fully dressed, I fell to my knees, going back into almost a sitting position, doubled over somewhat. I was wearing just a shirt and underwear, what I had been sleeping in. I pulled my shirt down as much as I could, in that position covering my underwear and part of my legs.

A little girl came into the hallway, appearing out of the fog. She was not someone I knew in real life, though I seemed to know her in the dream. She happily talked to me, saying that someone (perhaps my mother, perhaps another person) had brought her, and she had been sent to me to help me. I was a bit uncertain about this, but I kept my reservations mostly to myself, and generally only made brief responses, mostly acknowledgements, to what she was saying.

Though she took no notice of my current situation, I still felt uncomfortable and decided to go back to bed and get back under the covers so I wouldn't be so exposed. I got up, trying to keep my shirt pulled down onto my legs, and somewhat nervously walked back to my bedroom. She followed along and we continued talking, though she was doing most of it.

When I reached my bed, I looked down at it, frowning. Though I had been about to get back under the covers, the crumbs were still there. It seemed unpleasant, now, to get back into bed with the crumbs there, and somewhat embarrassing to have someone see my bed this way. I started brushing the crumbs off the covers, but a lot of bugs were there now, also, and the more I brushed the more appeared. They were mostly pale, fragile, skinny-winged things, and most of them seemed to be dead or dying already, even before I started brushing at them. New ones kept flying in or even falling from above, and it was hard to get them adequately brushed off. Pieces seemed to stick to the covers and stay behind, too.


Later, perhaps in the same dream or perhaps in a different dream, I went outside, dressed in dark work clothes, to the backyard and then around to the side yard. A fence ran around the backyard, extending partway along the side yard. There was a gate in the side yard in the part of the fence facing the street, and then more fence ran along by the driveway. The fence was much higher than in real life, perhaps eight or ten feet. A chain was attached to the top, somewhere back along the fence, perhaps even back close to the backyard, and I used it to do something, though I'm not sure what now. I think I stretched it to the end of the fence that is toward the street but I'm not sure what the purpose was. It seemed important and/or useful at the time, though.

At some point it came to be that a rough wooden stairway went down from the top of the fence in front of the gate. I don't think it stretched all the way to the ground. Someone was with me and had been for some time, and I think they went down the stairs first, and then I went. It seems we were supposed to go inside now. Perhaps a meal was about to be served, but I'm not sure now.

I went toward the carport and got involved with doing things there. The carport kept expanding and lengthening, and turned into a garage, a business. There were several people there, and a sliding garage door that opened toward the house. There was some problem near the door, some loops of cable or something like that, that were on a square hook up high beside the door. For some reason the people needed to have them taken down so they could reach them, it was for some reason important.

At the far end of the garage near the street, some chain was attached to the wall. I went and got it and somehow stretched it out all the way across the garage to where the loops of cable were, pulled the chain tight, and then holding it more or less tight used the tension from it to walk up the wall and take the loops of cable off the hook. In real life this would not have worked, because the chain was to the left side of me, not in front of me, but in the dream it seemed that it should. As I got the loops down, someone started going through the garage door opening, as though I had to get the cable down before this could happen. The people were happy that it was taken down and someone was reaching for it even as it was coming down.


I was in a nearby house, then, perhaps the first house over toward the main street. I heard sirens that got louder and louder, and I saw, through some narrow window openings (curtains or perhaps cardboard were blocking most of the glass of the windows), an emergency vehicle go past. It went past my house and to the house on the other side, or perhaps the house on the other side of that. I wandered over to see the emergency vehicle, and went out back and to the front and back again. I started to feel that I was reliving to some extent a horror novel (a specific one), the mood was getting darker and somewhat scary and menacing. It seemed to be very late afternoon, almost twilight, sometimes after sundown, sometimes earlier. I started going around a big building toward the street, a little nervous.

Partway toward the street, I met a mostly black dog, medium size. The dog seemed friendly, but I felt it was there for a purpose, left there to guard that side of the building and perhaps a nearby side entrance. I went by or around it, but it wanted to follow me at a little distance, with its mouth open and its tongue hanging out. I didn't know how long it would follow me and I kept worrying that it would suddenly attack.

I went up the side of the building, pulling myself up on little pieces of metal sticking out, sometimes in the form of little skinny bars almost flat against the building, sometimes as just odd flat pieces of heavy metal. None were very big and none stuck out very far. Going up the building, working my way back some, following where the metal was, I got pretty high, perhaps ten or twelve feet up. The dog was still down there, looking up at me, happily waiting. I took a piece of metal off the building and dropped it on it. The metal fell on its back, close to the hips. The dog yelped but didn't leave. I felt a little bad about dropping the metal on it, and was now afraid that the dog was more likely to be mad at me and more likely to attack.

I came back down and went down the street a ways, keeping back in the front yards, trying to stay somewhat hidden. The dog seemed to stay behind, at least for now. I felt I was being searched for by somebody, though. I think some police or police detectives were also looking for me. It was dark now, and it had been dark when I was with the dog. The area I was in seemed to be small town/rural, no longer the suburban place where the dream started.


I came to a more open area and turned right into it. I seemed to observe someone, and thinking about his situation and storyline, then became him. The person wasn't too bright, at least at times. The street I was now on went downhill, sharply at times. There was some situation with a car and a tow truck. Then there was something hanging from a tree, a long chain or perhaps initially a swing. I took the chain and pulled it way back, and I was in the air over the tow truck and car then, going back, back, back, the chain seeming to play out from the tree an enormous distance. The road was dirt, somewhat sunken, with slanted, sometimes steeply slanted, shoulders. I was high in the air, perhaps twenty or thirty feet, going back up toward the more main street. Then I was going back toward the tree, going through the air, the road slanting downward in front of me. The chain kept playing out and I kept going forward more and still more, somehow staying above the now steeply downward-slanted road.

I crossed an intersection and eventually another, gradually getting closer to the ground while the ground kept falling away from me. I passed a restaurant on the other side of the road and seemed to be coming in for a landing a little ways past it on that side of the road, on a long pile of trash and large collapsed boxes. A woman saw that I was coming down and pulled a very large flattened box into position for me to land on. The box had a lot of oil or grease on it, but I managed to land past at least part of it, trying to keep to my hands and knees to get as little on me as possible.

Behind me, the chain falling across the intersection had caused some trouble, at least with the first intersection. The chain was or had been in the air, going across the intersection, and one or more cars hit it and had gone on to hit other things. The police were investigating and would eventually be tracing the chain to see where it went.

I left, following the street downhill in the dark, and after a while came to another intersection and more houses, houses that faced the intersecting street. The dog was back, and the house on the right side of the street had another dog. This second dog was smaller and paler, with somewhat longer hair, though I think initially it may have been almost a twin of the first. The second dog was in the front yard, inside a low white stucco wall that ran around the front yard of the house. I think it had just come from inside the carport, perhaps somehow also coming from inside the house. I was on the other side of the wall, on or near the street I had come in on, the street that ran between the houses.

I did something to the second dog, and changed it into a small stuffed toy and put it on top of the low white stucco wall. The first dog had left, moving on before I changed the second dog into a toy. I knew the toy would change back into a dog before very long, and it did so just before I left. It seemed that it might be an even smaller dog than before, and it seemed nervous and somewhat frightened and wasn't really interested in me.


I went back toward the downtown area, trying to avoid the tree holding the chain and the investigators, going in a bit of a zigzag, taking different streets. I think at some point I met someone and talked briefly, and they may have given some advice. In the downtown area, I went past an intersection and saw someone, a man in late middle age, looking at me through the windows of a very small corner store, windows that were mostly blocked by cardboard, leaving just a long slit or two open on each side.

Looking in through the slit as I passed, I saw him looking back readying a bow and arrow. The arrows were primitive, homemade like the bow, and had no heads, just roughly broken-off ends. I had been warned about him and others, though perhaps only in a general way. I quickly hurried across the intersection at an angle, going away from him. He fired at me, though, and I could see the arrow, with its splintered end, coming for me in slow motion. I batted it away with my hand, perhaps even turning it back toward him, though if so, it didn't do any damage, perhaps not even reaching him. I continued to move quickly away from him. He fired again at me. I was a considerably greater distance now, but it still reached me. I batted it aside again.


I came to a room. It faced the street, a side street to the one I had been on and going the same direction as the one with the tree, now far behind me. I had continued to go forward in a zigzag, and the room was on a far corner, with the cross street intersecting another street. I think someone was urging me to go in, to hide for a while.

There was someone already in the room, an older man. I went into the room anyway, through a door that led to a room beside his. I think someone may have come in with me, someone who had joined me somewhere along the way, but I'm not sure. Some other, much younger people were there in other rooms, sometimes coming in or talking from where they were. There didn't seem to be a real hallway, just rooms opening to other rooms. The old man seemed to stay mostly in bed, though he was at least partially sitting up or leaning on his side at times. He showed me and the others various things he had made, some no doubt from long ago, that his room was full of.

Through the window, I could see people outside looking for me and questioning people on the street. I think some of the people looking for me were police detectives and policemen, though I think some of the people were criminals, organized crime figures.

The old man took a very small device and showed it to me. It seemed to be a small piece of metal bent into a V shape with one of the sides longer and curved inward and a long skinny bolt going through the two sides away from the fold, toward the outer edges, tightened just enough to hold them in the elongated V shape. Inside the V, there seemed to be some more stuff, including perhaps some wires. The whole thing, including the bolt, was pale metal. It was intended to be held with the hand almost in a fist and the V part between the fingers, with the thumb inside partly holding on to it, partly pushing the trigger. The trigger seems to have been partly the end of the bolt and partly intention.

Although I described it as the two wide halves of the V being held together by the bolt, it now seems that the bolt somehow also went through the point of the V and down its axis, and that the V was actually a piece of metal bent to form a narrow triangle, with the V formed by the ends closing against each other. One side was still curved inward. The side facing out had a narrow flat area formed by two bends, with a tiny pinhole in it and an open slot below it where the flat area disappeared, leaving just the edges of the sides, and the end of the bolt, I don't know which end, sticking out.

The man demonstrated its use against the window, holding the device and pressing it close to or against the window. He moved it slowly down the window, cutting a narrow line. The window was thick, and had shapes or designs molded into part of it. I felt that it might have been something he had made, and I felt kind of bad about it being damaged. I felt too, though, that he probably didn't have much longer to live and knew it, and that he was no longer overly concerned about preserving physical things, having felt that they had largely already served their purpose.

He had me try it myself then, cutting more into the glass of the window (which may have been plastic instead), making a line from top to bottom so that a section of the window could be removed. It was intended that I should leave through the opening. It would be a narrow opening and awkward to get through, but I felt I could somehow do it. I would also be taking someone with me. Although I seemed to have come in with someone, one of the young people there, a girl, would be going with me. It was her decision, but there was at least some discussion about it. She may have also been the one that came in with me, but there's some doubt about that.

Looking outside through the opening, I could see the people across the street trying to find me. Perhaps a couple of them were questioning people. Associated policemen were also scattered around the area. It would be difficult or impossible to escape through the narrow opening without being seen. I pointed the device at them and fired it. It was difficult to do real damage at that distance, although if I kept it trained on one spot it might eventually start going through. A very faint mist was at times visible from the beam, though not usually in the beam itself, just mostly around the impact area.

The person I was aiming at, a man who had been questioning people and seemed to be a leader, turned partly toward me, his mouth open, his eyes mostly closed, a look of discomfort and annoyance on his face. His head was partly forward and his body was getting progressively wetter as it was hit from the beam. He was pushed back some and I think he might have eventually fallen. I might have also pointed the beam at another person, before the first one fell, if he did. Meanwhile the old man warned me, in an almost conversational style, as I first started to turn the beam on the men, "You know, if you do stuff like that, you'll have to keep on doing it."

When it seemed that I had created enough trouble, I went through the opening in the window and the girl followed. She seemed to be in her thirties, perhaps late thirties, though she had seemed a little younger earlier. She later seemed to resemble a little the full-figured woman on the latest Big Brother (Big Brother 9, with people divided into couples). She was blonde and smiled a lot, with big dimples on her face. Sometimes, though, she had a more subdued appearance, perhaps even approaching that of Adrian Monk's assistant, Natalie, from the TV show Monk.


We went back toward the direction I had come from. We had to keep looking out for the police and the detectives and whoever else might be after us. I was in a more open area now, away from the downtown. I went ahead cautiously, slowly going around corners, staying mostly at or toward the backs of buildings. The ground was sloping away now, sometimes leaving open areas at the backs of buildings, where the building was supported on boards, stilt-like. I came around to one area where some people were underneath the building. I was scared for a few seconds, but then realized that they were just bums. I stayed with them for a few minutes, then continued on. Oddly, they seemed to be at least partly aware of my situation.

I came to the back of a building, then, an open back, that had a bunch of policemen and detectives there waiting for me. They seemed triumphant that I had fallen into their trap. The girl who had come with me remained nearby, lagging a bit behind me, perhaps ten or fifteen feet away and to the side. I pointed the device at what appeared to be the main person and fired it. It was almost like pointing a ring, like Green Lantern, the DC Comics superhero, except that I had to push inside with my thumb, though it may have still been mostly intention that did it. The man's body moved back a little with the impact, his arms going out to the side some, his mouth open and his face in an expression of pained and somewhat angry dismay. His body became very soaked with the mist, though don't remember any hole appearing in his clothes from the beam.

Another man came forward, perhaps to protect the first. He wore pale clothing. He turned his back to me as he came, and I fired into his back. His back arched and his head came back, partly turned, and his mouth opened crying out in pain. His clothes became completely soaked and a tiny hole appeared in the cloth. I think he finally fell over, either before or after I moved on to someone else. They seemed to be mostly frozen watching what was happening to the others, until I turned the beam on them. I didn't spend as much time with the later ones.

I tried to leave, going away down the dirt road that was a little ways behind the building, but there were two other people there, a man and a woman, seemingly waiting for me in case I escaped the others. They came from the direction I had been going away from. I fired at the man for a while. He either finally fell or was incompacitated enough that I could get away from him. I fired at the woman, then, but she kept on slowly coming toward me. She was in late middle age, an expression of sadness and pain on her face, tears in her eyes, looking at me accusingly. She got closer and closer, her dress, somewhat lowcut and medium dark, completely soaked, until finally I was firing the device directly against the bare skin of her upper chest. As she came she spoke to me, about what I was doing to her, and the thought came through, whether directly spoken or just implied, that I shouidn't be doing this to her, it was wrong, and maybe someday I would realize that.

I wondered if she was actually involved in going after me. Perhaps she, along with the man, had only a slight involvement, or perhaps even none at all, and that I was essentially firing now on what might be innocent bystanders, though it didn't seem somehow as important as perhaps it should be, as by now I had to fire simply because they were there. I finally stopped firing, though, and turned away, and took the woman who had come with me, and flew away to another place. I don't know the fate of the woman I shot, whether she recovered or not. I don't know what happened to any of them.


We ended up on what was apparently a ship for a while. It seems that we had both at some point had gotten shot, though I'm not sure now which one I first realized had gotten shot. We were in a lounge area, on big roomy stuffed leather chairs with arms and sides. We were naked but had magically sunken in and blended with the chairs, even taking on their coloring, with mostly just our heads and shoulders and arms and legs sticking out, with just suggestions of other things, so it was hard to see much of our bodies. A suggestion of her chest showed, but her hip region was hidden, as was mine. I had a different body than I do normally, young and muscular, though my body was almost completely hidden. We were leaning back and smiling and talking, not seeming too terribly disturbed by our wounds. Some of the nearby people frowned at us, both because we were wanted criminals and because we were sitting there openly naked. Frowning at us because we were basically flaunting our wickedness.

That night we went out on deck, dressed now, looking for someplace to hide for the night. We were somewhat quieter and more thoughtful now, and our wounds bothered us more, though we didn't talk about them. She found someplace on top of something, perhaps a rowboat, and slid down into something laying on top of it that fit her like a sheath, leaving just her head and shoulders sticking out. I was worried about her and asked if she was alright. She assured me that she was. I was afraid, though I didn't say anything, that I would find her there dead in the morning. There seemed to be nothing more I could do though, and, still worried, I left her to find someplace for myself.

In the morning I went looking for her and calling out for her, but I didn't get a response. I finally found the place I left her, and there she was, her head and shoulders sticking out as before. She lay there still, and I think her eyes may have even been open, staring upward. I thought she was indeed dead, as I had feared, but then she turned her head slightly and smiled and looked at me.


Another time, probably before we got on the ship, perhaps after we left it, we were running from the law and came to the end of a building, toward the back. I paused, and saw in my mind that a large number of people were back there, waiting for us, ready to gun us down. I saw also a future in which I had not paused and they succeeded. I did not see them as people but as vague blobs and swirls of yellowish energy. I changed the furure then, and the present, and created a situation in which they were not there. I then cautiously looked around the corner, confirmed that it was empty, and then led the woman through and past the area.

Another time, perhaps before or perhaps after the other one, I got somehow careless or perhaps thought it didn't matter enough, and went into a similar situation where men waited for us behind a building. There were much fewer men this time, and even though I was looking right at them instead of sensing them, some of them still appeared as energy forms. We were fired at and I guess I fired back, but I think at least one of us was wounded then. Perhaps we both were.


Later, after we had left the boat, we were in some region of the Southwest. I believe we still had our wounds, but they seemed unimportant now. I think we had stolen a car to get where we were. We were in the desert near a freeway, not far from access ramps. The place was a complex containing one or more large service stations and one or more restaurants. We were aware that the police were still tracking us, and would eventually get to where we were. It was night. We were walking, and passed a couple of cars that were parallel parked, with the first one, a convertible, having the whole back section full of food.

I reached out and grabbed one or two of the items, probably individually packaged turnovers, and was just going to take them. The woman who was with me turned around and was saying "No," though, and took out some very crisp bills and gave one of them to a man who was with the car. I don't know where she got the money or what denomination it was. I was somewhat surprised to see that she had any. A couple of other people associated with the car were nearby. I think they were people on a vacation, perhaps retirees.

We went looking for another car at some point, wanting to confuse the pursuit. There were a lot of cars getting gas, so there were a lot of possibilities.

I also wanted to get rid of the device. I felt I had had it long enough and that we would continue to have trouble as long as we had it. I was getting tired of all the running and trying to evade the law. I recognized that the magic would go with it and that I would be losing a lot of power, but I still felt that it had to be done.

There followed a lot of confusion and activity, a lot of which I've forgotten. I remember driving around the parking lot, looking for a distant exit to the street, though I think I went back toward the pumps after finding it. This may have been before I took the food, perhaps even at a different complex at a different offramp. I also remember trying to get away from people who were after us.

In any event, I did locate a woman at a pump and gave her the device. I went with the woman who had been with me to steal a nearby car, then. A bit of confusion followed, though I think I did succeed in stealing a car. Some people were after us though, and I think were even after the woman that I gave the device to. The woman I gave the device to didn't really understand what was happening, and she didn't understand the device very well, though I tried to explain it some to her. She seemed to like the device though, staring at it and looking it over.

At some point, with people running around and trying to get me and probably her too, she pointed the device at some low mountains, including a section of Monument Valley-type mountains, that lay beyond the freeway. The mountains were being used as an earthen dam to hold back water, and water started to come through the rock now, coming diectly out of the rock as well as over it. A huge wave, very tall but more as a burst then having a continuous structure, came forward and over us. More water came, and kept coming. Water was even coming out of the rock high in the mountains, well above the level of any water held by the dam, coming out of rocks that should have been dry.

I realized somewhere in there that I still had the magic, even without the device. I looked out at what was happening from near the edge of the pavement of the service station area, the woman who had come with me standing by me. The water was lessening, now, and I began to think that it was getting time to go down the freeway and leave, with the woman who had come with me. I'm not sure now if we would be walking or taking the car I stole, but I was confident about the future.

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Posts from the Story blog

These are my posts to write101.com's Neverending Story, at its blog location. The times given are from my computer and are Arizona time, and may not exactly match that given on the blog.

http://write101-never-ending-story.blogspot.com/


5:29 AM 9/8/2005

"Good thing for you," the owl said, "I have a remedy right here." The owl pointed to a nearby bottle and said, "we can discuss the cost later."

Doctor Morgenes peered into the bottle suspiciously and said, "We should discuss the cost now. What if I don't have enough money to pay you?"

The owl said, "All the other purchasers have been able to pay. And who said that the payment would be in money?"

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA



2:16 PM 9/18/2005

Doctor Morgenes looked at the portable exorcism machine. "Does this also work on tea chests, or Chinese puzzle boxes with strange, brightly colored creatures inside?" he said, perhaps remembering another time that now may or may not exist.

"Certainly," said Father Wetherley, "but you'll need to pay it with more than just a cup of tea. And you may have to use it twice on the puzzle box."

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA



9:26 AM 12/27/2005

... Dr. Morgenes, crying, "You're on my foot! You're on my foot!"

Abashed, the giant ape moved to the side. Morgenes, quietly sobbing, took off his shoe and counted his toes.

Abrubtly, an anvil fell on the other foot. "Sorry, " the Anvil said. "Just thought I'd drop in."

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA



7:54 AM 5/26/2007

He threw her over his shoulder, and then screamed shrilly. He awkwardly dumped her on the ground and staggered back. Quills protruded from his hands and from his shoulder. His wife had turned into a porcupine!

Unsuccesfully fighting back tears, he began pulling quills from his hands with his teeth, as the porcupine ambled off into the forest, slowing turning into an anteater as it went. The forest? How had he gotten back there?

From somewhere behind him a voice said, "Let me have a look at that."

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA



6:06 AM 6/8/2007

...when Dr. Morgenes heard a small squeaky voice say, "Wait, he has no money."

He looked down and saw a weasel, who had evidently managed to go through all of his pockets and placed all the contents on the ground. Dr. Morgenes was surprised to see the large number and variety of things that he had managed to bring with him.

"He has these odd colored papers with portraits on them," the weasel said, holding up some cash, "but they're not that well done and I doubt we'll be able to get much for them. In fact, I doubt we'll get much for the full pile."

"Well, in that case," the tiger said...

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA



7:05 AM 9/4/2007

The tiger-doctor selected a very large pair of very shiny pliers and went over to Dr. Morgenes, where he paused for a long time, surveying the damage. Finally Morgenes cried, "Are you going to do anything or not? And do you have anything to ease the pain of these quills? They're killing me!"

The tiger said, "Pain is good, it teaches us things. However, we have a complication here. These are magic quills from a magic porcupine. If we pull one out, it will regrow within a few seconds. And even without pulling any out, they are slowly multiplying. Fortunately, I have invented a machine for this very situation."

The tiger then somehow produced from one of the pockets of his lab coat a metal box the size of two shoe boxes side by side. It had a vertical handle on each side and two buttons on top, one yellow and one red. The tiger pushed the yellow one and two small finely toothed wheels emerged from the front and and stuck out perhaps half a foot. They rested against each other, like interlocking gears. The tiger then pressed the red button, and the wheels began to turn rapidly with a shrill, whining sound.

"Allow me to demonstrate," said the tiger. He picked up a small stick and pushed pushed it into the wheels. The stick was immediately pulled between the wheels and into the box, with a grinding, crunching sound.

"The stick was destroyed inside the box, as will be the quills," said the tiger. "Destroying the quills also destroys the magic, or at least reduces it to a disorganized form. The disorganized magic may cause some odd effects in the immediate vicinity, but this should not be a big problem. Though the destroyed quill will not itself regrow, other quills will eventually grow because of the radiated magic field of the remaining quills, making rapid removal of all the quills absolutely mandatory."

The tiger turned toward Dr. Morgenes and raised the machine. "Hold still, I wouldn't want to catch anything in the wheels that I shouldn't. If at some point you find yourself fainting, try to fall the other way."

The tiger tightened his grip on the handles of the box and moved it forward toward the quills.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/



3:45 AM 12/2/2007

"First the good news," the tiger-doctor said. "The quills are gone. The bad news is that the machine exploded, dispersing the magic from the quills into the environment. Especially the environment it was closest to, your shoulder."

Dr. Morgenes, with an increasingly bad feeling, slowly turned to look at his shoulder. What he found there filled him with horror. He stared at it, speechless. It was a small head looking just like his, staring back at him.

The small head finally said, "The really bad news is that the weasel's underneath us. If you don't move you're going to kill him. I'd move us if I could, but I'm not strong enough to override you. That's something I'm going to work on, though."

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/



4:09 AM 6/1/2008

The small head said, "There's one too many heads here alright, and I'd like to get rid of the extra one. But it would be kind of, you know, like cutting off your nose to spite your face, only worse." He looked at Dr. Morgenes' head with narrowed eyes. "So I guess I'll just have to do this the hard way."

The small head seemed to burrow under the skin and work its way toward Morgenes' head, while Morgenes' head looked at it with alarm. The small head finally reached Morgenes' head and somehow disappeared inside it. Morgenes began to thrash and claw at his head with his fingers.

The tiger-doctor and the weasel watched in silence for a while. Finally the tiger said, "All this magic can really be a headache sometimes. We'd better leave them to work this out by themselves."

The tiger spread his new magical wings and flapped them experimentally a few times, then picked up the weasel and flew away.

Stephen from Scottsdale, Arizona, USA
http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/

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Still more posts about posts

Last March and in the summer of 2007 I posted collections of posts I made to a message board I visit frequently. This is the third collection of these posts.

On that message board, new threads crowd out old ones, old in this case meaning oldest last update. Threads can persist for a long time, however, if they are posted to frequently enough so that they stay comfortably away from the bottom of the list.

I help to keep some of the threads going, by posting to them when it seems that a new post might be needed. On threads about writing or poems, I have sometimes posted poems. Most of these poems refer to posts or posting in some manner, and most of them are short, sometimes very short, though a few are fairly long.

As originally posted they did not have titles, but I have given them titles here. The times shown are in Arizona time (MST), not the time on the message board, which uses Eastern time.


SHORTER THAN MOST?
6:31 PM 1/21/2007

This is a post
That's shorter than most

That's longer than some
With still more to come

But the ending is near
It is right here

.
.
.
.

I lied, I fear
The end's not here

Will it be found?
Is it deep underground?

Is it closer than that?
Is it under my hat?

Is it inside my head?
Is it still to be said?

Will it be seen
When placed on the screen?

Will others then post?
And not just almost?

And the thread will go on
But this post is done



HERE THERE BE POEMS
7:39 AM 8/28/2007

Here there be poems
Sparse and lush
Post yours now
And avoid the rush



WORDS GO DOWN
1:13 AM 3/12/2008

Words go down
The thread goes up
But as time does pass
It begins to drop

'Round and 'round
The circle goes
Keep it running
See that it grows

Add a post
A word or two
Whatever you have
Old or new

Place it here
Don't be too late
Threads can leave
When people wait



POEM OR PROSE
5:51 AM 4/18/2008

Poem or prose
Here it goes



I WROTE THIS LINE
3:16 PM 5/12/2008

I wrote this line
And this one too
I could write more
But this will do

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Howdy Week

In the high school that I attended, long ago, the first week was called Howdy Week. It was supposed to be a time of gentle hazing for the Freshmen, where Sophomores, Juniors and Seniors could order a Freshman to do something and the Freshman had to do it. It wasn't supposed to be anything bad though, basically just some teasing and mild humiliation.

To identify themselves, the Freshmen had to wear name tags the first week. It was probably something made of paper, maybe construction paper, that they pinned on their shirts. I think they had to write their own names on it.

In that first week of high school, back in 1967, I was somewhat nervous about what might be done during the hazing. To be more specific, I was somewhat nervous about what might be done to me or be required of me. I gave some slight consideration to to leaving the name tag off. I was very tall, 5 feet 11 1/2 inches I think, in the summer before high school, and might even have been slightly taller by the time I got there. Since I was so tall, if I didn't wear a name tag they probably wouldn't know I was a Freshman. I didn't really want to do that, though. It felt too much like cheating, and there might be a chance I could get into trouble for not wearing it, or at least it seemed so to me. And if I left it off I would miss whatever was out there for me, whatever that might be.

Nobody bothered me at first, but I remained nervous about it. Since I was taller than the vast majority of the students, taller than the average height for adults even, potential hazers may not have wanted to try anything with me.

Wednesday, though, as I was walking between the rows of buildings, heading toward one on the end, I saw a group of people with a small kid, apparently trying to put him in a trash container. A few other students were sitting along a large concrete planter, watching. One of them got up and headed in my general direction, not looking at me, moving at a diagonal, heading partially in the direction I was going as if to meet up with me a little ways ahead. I hoped he wasn't really going to do it, that it was just a coincidence that he was heading that way.

As he came closer though, there could be no real doubt that he intended to meet me. I stopped and waited. He was several inches shorter than I was, and came up to me with a strange expression on his face, not really looking at me, seeming to look slightly to the side. Stopping in front of me, he fiddled with the pin on my name tag. Finally getting it loose, he took the name tag, folded it, and put it in his pocket. I think he also clapped me briefly on my left arm, near my shoulder, but I'm not sure now. He turned then and went back, never speaking to me and never looking me in the face.

After that I had no more problems.

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Friday, October 31, 2008

Dream - The descent: Witches, flying reptiles and the tall tree-like man

Starting around February 12, 2008, and very bad for a week, less bad thereafter, I was very, very sick, with a bowel obstruction, kidney stones, and a bad case of the flu. I didn't get much sleep for a week, because the pain in my side was too much when I lay down. I didn't spend much time laying down, though I did catch a few minutes of sleep that way. Sometimes I caught a few minutes of sleep sitting down and sometimes even over an hour, sometimes even a few hours. Some days, though, the total sleep was measured in minutes rather than hours. I spent long periods of time standing, sometimes assuming different positions, sometimes even bent over double, trying to relieve the pain in my side somehow.

The day before this started I had worked for about five hours on my sister's yard, starting late in the afternoon, stopping long after dark when I was too cold and sick to continue. I wasn't even wearing a coat.

For a few days before this started I had been feeling bad, and had noticed that my lips were sometimes very pale.

I had a few dreams during the time I was sick, some of them with very disturbing elements. One of the most disturbing ones happened around February 20, 2008.

In the dream, I seemed to be at a house we had lived in in the early to mid 1960s, though sometimes it seemed to be my grandmother's house instead, the one she lived in a little later on after she moved to Arizona. The houses were on the same street, but not close to each other. A lot happened earlier in the dream that I don't remember.

At some point I went out back and toward the side yard to the east. It was dark. A large number of people were there, even out in the alley and other yards. I also felt they were all over the place, even down at the end of the street. I wanted to fly, and went toward the side yard. The people, who it seems had already been witches of some kind, started to become witches in appearance, and some of them turned into flying reptiles, with some of the people riding the flying reptiles.

I was someone with magic powers, like the others, and part of the group of people. I started to change into something else and flew for a while, though I'm not sure if I changed into a flying reptile or into a more traditional witch appearance and rode a reptile (or rode something else). I flew around for a while, east toward the end of the street and back.

The dream turned darker, and it seems the witches were now out to get me, and were apparently also vampires of some type. They were also changing into various monsters, often or usually some variation on the flying reptiles theme, with huge claws even on their elbows and other places. They wanted to get me with the claws, to cut and stab me.

The houses were gone now, the scene changing to uneven ground with different places at different levels, kind of an outdoor scene except it seemed to take place inside an enormous cave. At some point I seemed to have returned to my normal appearance. I kept trying to avoid the creatures, who seemed to be in almost a continual process of slow change. They seemed only marginally aware of me, occasionally turning toward me with an evil look, especially if I got too close.

There was a tall tree-like man with fingers like long branches or roots and legs turning into trunks and roots. At first he was on an area of higher ground in the cave, a place to the side where it narrowed somewhat and then went on. The winged creatures seemed not to be concerned about him and did not pay a lot of attention to him, though there were frequently a few in his area. I went toward him, but as I got closer he raised his arms and started to try to move his legs, to try to come toward me, and I backed away.

Sometime later I noticed that he had managed to move thirty or forty feet, and was now on a lower area but still a ways out from the middle of the cave. I kept feeling that he wasn't really my enemy. I went toward him again and got pretty close, but then he raised his arms with the long root-like fingers that could stretch all the way to the ground and tried to get me again.

A winged creature was passing by behind the tree man, stopping every few feet, seemingly unaware of what was happening or that we were even there. It was bent over in almost a crouch, with extremely long arms and legs and torso. It was slim but muscular, and had big shoulders. Its head was raised up and pointing forward, and was large and bald and somewhat thin, with a greatly exaggerated nose and chin. Its eyes were large and had somewhat wavy slits for pupils, pupils that were a pale yellow in color. The eyes themselves were an odd color, slightly dark and almost clear, and tilted a little with a curved under part and an almost straight top part. The mouth was pulled up in a huge grin. The skin of the creature was a kind of pale greenish-brown, and even bent over like it was it was still about the height of a man. As it paused behind the tree man, its left elbow went through his back and out his chest, splitting it open, the elbow with its huge thick gray claw sticking out the front. There seemed to be no blood, just a big split in the chest.

The tree man stared at me in pain and sorrow, and seemed to somehow be blaming me for what happened. He was not stopped by the injury, and still reached out for me, partially changing into something else, one of the clawed creatures. I pulled back and away. The original winged creature moved on, pulling its elbow out of the tree man's chest, never once looking at us.

There were other creatures everywhere but they seemed to not be paying attention to me, just milling around. Raised areas in the ground went around the middle section of the cave in a kind of square path, or paths. Sometimes the creatures followed the paths and sometimes they didn't.

I could also see a path that led up and down along the far wall, with a creature slowly coming down it. Others had gone up and down it earlier. I felt the creature had come back from someplace higher up, out of the cave or at least a different section of it. I wondered if it had gotten orders of some kind, and was on a mission. I made my way toward it, coming from the side. As with the others, though, it seemed to have no real purpose or awareness unless I got too close, and then its head turned toward me and its eyes got slightly bigger, and long clawed fingers reached out, and when I pulled back the awareness faded, I could see it fade from its eyes, and it turned back to what it had been doing, walking slowly along the path.

In retrospect, the situation in the dream seems to have turned into some kind of a representation of Hell.

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Dream - The vault

On Thursday, October 30, 2008, I fell asleep around 12:30 PM for about ten minutes, and dreamed I was in a large dimly lit vault. In the dream I felt it was something like a bank vault, but in retrospect it seems more like a mausoleum. Along the left wall were large polished black granite panels, perhaps 16 inches high and 30 inches wide. They were in rows along the wall, which was the same color, and extended perhaps an inch from the wall. They had a little space, perhaps an inch or two, between them. I was probably six or seven feet from the back wall, facing the left wall and examining the panels, brushing them a little with the fingers of my left hand, barely touching them.

Behind me, shadowy people in dark suits occasionally came and went, one or two at a time, presumably on business of some kind. Sometimes they were not much more than just faint blurred figures, with occasional flashes of a white shirt and the suggestion of a face, looking like pictures taken with a camera that was unable to properly freeze the motion, with the ends of the arms and legs almost fading out. Sometimes they barely felt physical at all.

They never tried to talk to me or interact with me, always going past me toward the back, sometimes then turning toward the right and going somewhere away from me and out of my awareness. I felt that money was stored somewhere behind me and perhaps a little along the back wall, presumably in something like safe-deposit boxes and maybe safes, though I didn't see anything and didn't try to look for it. I was mostly concerned with the panels.

Feeling the panels with my fingers, I had found that some of them were a little rough or uneven, some much more so than others. Some of it seemed to be in the rock itself but some of it, particularly on some panels, was mostly accumulated grime, like it had been a long time since maintenance on them had been performed. I curled the fingers of my left hand and started rapidly scratching at the surface of the panels, starting at an upper one, sending tiny thin pieces of the surface off, so tiny or thin they were hard to see properly, like ashes or the memory of ashes, like the ghosts of ashes and the ghosts of powdery dust.

As the surface of a panel got smoother I moved to a lower one, and then a lower one. The third one down from where I started, the second one up from the floor, was a lot rougher, feeling like slightly smoothed-over dried soap scum. This one was going to take a lot longer.

I continued to work while the shadowy presences came and went behind me. It looked like it would take a long time to do all the panels. I wondered what would happen if everyone left and went home for the day and I got locked in. I thought that surely they would have some janitorial service that would come during the night and clean the vault, at least sometimes, so I would get out eventually, and might not have to spend a whole night or weekend there.

Scratching near a lower corner of the panel, trying to smooth out the final irregularities in that area, I noticed that I was making a shallow depressed area diagonally across the stone. I decided to leave that area as it was rather than try any more there, as it seemed like the irregularities at that point were caused by the inclusions in the rock being of different hardness from the surrounding matrix, and it didn't look like I would be able to smooth it there any further with just my fingernails. Someone would have to use real equipment to get that area any smoother, if they cared enough to go that far.

I considered whether to work on another area of that panel, which was still mostly unsmoothed, or to move to a different panel, perhaps one to the right. I was starting to wonder, also, if this project, a task I had undertaken on my own, without any prompting from anyone, was something I should continue to do. Nobody appeared to notice the condition of the panels, and they would probably not notice even if they were smooth and clean. There was also the question of whether they would mind me doing what I was doing, as I had no authority to be doing anything. It was just something that I found, something that I felt needed correcting.

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Snakes! - the poem

I first wrote this poem as a post to a thread about humorous invented words and definitions, as a reply to someone who had written a much shorter poem about snakes. Her poem was a general response to posts about snakes, and had a line that could be taken as referencing an earlier post of mine involving Medusa, the mythical figure who had snakes on her head instead of hair. The general point of her poem, given in a humorous way, was that she did not like snakes, though she did not say the word anywhere, always saying "them" instead. At the time the thread was sometimes being used by people to post humorous take-offs on the "Snakes on a Plane" movie, so quite a few posts had snakes in them, though some had versions not involving snakes.

I later changed my poem slightly, in a version not part of that thread, making it have less of a specific response, making it a more general poem about someone not liking snakes. It fits in rather well in my family this way, as my father was chased by a snake long ago and my mother, when she was young, sometimes had the experience of a particular worker on the family farm showing her snakes he had killed while mowing the yard.

In the poem below, the line "Many other places where" originally said "Places have been listed where" in the version in the humor thread, and the line "Places I have not yet given" originally said "But other places were not given".

This final version of the poem is dated 12:11 PM, December 10, 2007. The version in the humor thread was dated 8:55 AM, May 24, 2007, and the Medusa post was dated 7:40 AM, May 23, 2007. All times are Arizona Mountain Standard Time (MST).


The Medusa post:

Snakes on a Brain

What happened when Medusa's "hair" became ingrown.


The final version of the poem:

SNAKES!

Should a snake always be inside its lair,
And not catch a person unaware?

Are there other places they can be,
Where you cannot, will not, see?

Many other places where,
You would not like to find them there?

Places I have not yet given,
Places where they could be livin'?

If one crawled swiftly up the lane,
Would it drive you quite insane?

If they came from out your pockets,
Would your eyes bulge from their sockets?

If one fell from trees into your hair,
Would it give you such a scare?

Would one in the sunshade in your car,
Really give you such a jar?

Would one found upon a pillow,
Make you let out quite a bellow?

So many places snakes might lurk,
Would they all drive you berserk?

Is there a place that I could say,
That would not make you run away?

Or would a snake found anywhere,
Be one more snake than you could bear?

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Where's my shoe?

This probably happened back in the mid to late 1980s, when I would have been in my early to mid thirties.

I was putting on my shoes in my bedroom and I couldn't find one. I looked under the bed and in the closet and everywhere else in the room, and then looked everywhere again, and then a third and probably a fourth time. I couldn't figure it out. It had to be somewhere but it didn't seem to be anywhere at all.

I finally gave up on it being in my bedroom, at least for the moment, and started walking down to the living room, thinking that maybe my mother had taken the shoes to polish them, something she had on rare occasions done. It seemed only a faint possibility, but I just couldn't find it and I was running out of places to look.

I was walking down the hallway when I realized that I had both shoes on instead of one. I had been wearing the missing shoe the whole time.

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Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Dream - Young self one and two, dreams of different lives

In January of 2008, I had what were really two dreams, one after the other, perhaps one leading into the other, which showed younger versions of myself, when I was a kid, but different from what I was like back then. They were other lives lived in which things had turned out differently, including a different version of my grandmother's death.


The first dream took place in a very large house. My mother was there, and at some point she encouraged me to go out to a patio or porch on the side and back of the house. Lots of little tables were there with food and things. Two little kids had been left with us who were kids or grandkids of my brother or one of my sisters. My mother and I had to watch them. They ran around among the tables, playing and being a nuisance.

The boy later wanted some orange juice, and I went back inside the house, toward the front of a long room filled with rows of tables to get it. I was pointed by someone toward an odd device made of ornate tubes that looked something like a harp frame. It contained orange juice and poured different kinds - high-pulp, no-pulp, normal, spicy - depending on which opening it was poured from. I was surprised at the elaborateness of it, but I was assured that the kid was used to it. A much smaller contraption held lemonade.

It was dark and late at night when my brother came back. He seemed happy. Someone was with him, and I believe some other people also came, including my father. The scene kept replaying itself, changing a little each time.

A younger version of myself showed up, I think maybe actually brought by my brother in one of the replays of the scene (in real life my brother is younger than I am). My younger self was perhaps 12 years old, with short hair perhaps an inch long, maybe slightly longer toward the front. He had a big smile like my brother did, but didn't look quite like I actually looked back then. I'm not sure my younger self knew who I was.


In the second dream, some people were going to make a movie about my life. Danny DeVito was chosen to play my younger self. I thought it was a strange choice, partly because he wasn't tall enough and partly because he didn't look anything like me or have the right personality. His hair was dark and he looked much younger than he does now, but for an instant when I contemplated his age he looked much older with wrinkles and gray hair and then he was young again.

He went to go through a door and looked back at me and laughed, and then continued through the door. I thought, well maybe he was the right choice after all.

I then saw various scenes of my life, my life as it had been in the dream. Apparently my life was being reviewed in an effort to get material for the movie script.

In the dream version of my life, my father was much different. He was tall with dark hair perhaps one and a half inches long on top, a long rectangular face, and a long muscular torso. In real life, my father was tall and strong, but started going bald fairly early, and tended to be overweight. My mother, who was shown in a separate scene, looked about the same as she had in real life, except she was thinner with more of a medium weight. They were both in their mid-thirties at the time shown, and seemed happy.

In the dream, I was put with foster parents for the 7th and 8th grades, but I'm not sure why. I looked back at the 8th grade time and I seemed to be happy. My younger self didn't quite look like I did, looking more like a combination of my brother and myself. In real life, I have a brother and two sisters, but in the dream I didn't have any sisters, though I think I did still have a brother. My younger self also seemed to interact more with the other kids than I did in real life, though he still seemed a little bit shy.

I watched my 8th grade class, at a time when the class was not in session. Kids were in the classroom, standing in various groups, talking to each other. Watching the scene, I saw some girls and remarked to someone with me that I liked a particular girl back then, she was hot. I gave her first name and a couple of different possibilities for her last name, and was a little bothered that I was unable to quite remember it. I don't believe the name in the dream quite matched a real name, but in real life there was a girl something like that - slim with a reasonably good figure, light brown hair and perhaps a little taller and somewhat different looking than the one in the dream. In real life I thought she looked somewhat attractive - especially her figure - but I didn't talk to her and thought someone else looked better (I didn't talk to her either).

My impression is that my younger self, in this new version of my life, did have some interaction with the girls, even if in a relatively minor way. I'm not sure which girls, though, and it may or may not have included the girls mentioned above. And while this version of myself was less shy than I had in reality been, he still tended to let the people around him, whether boys or girls, do most of the talking.

Toward the end there was a scene at a restaurant where I was with my mother and grandmother and perhaps someone else. I was now older than before, an adult, though younger than I am in real life. The tables were widely spaced, and we were sitting down at one in the middle and toward one wall.

Then the scene moved forward in time a little and my grandmother was on the floor on her side, partly curled up from where she fell off the chair. Everyone in the room was staring at her. My mother was leaning to the side and forward, looking at her, an expression of alarm on her face. I was farther down the table, in the process of standing up.

Some time passed, while various people went over to my grandmother and looked briefly at her, perhaps touching her lightly but apparently not doing much else. I could hear them talking among themselves about her, in low, mumbling tones. I didn't catch much of what was being said. I went over there, too, in the form of my younger self, after the others had finished and had indicated that I should come. I bent down and looked at her and I think touched her shoulder, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do.

A little while later the ambulance arrived. Bright light poured in through the suddenly open door and across the floor past where my grandmother lay. A paramedic was in the doorway in silhouette, his shadow stretching across the floor toward us. He went to her and looked at her briefly, then looked up and shook his head and said, "She's gone."

I was watching the scene from the side and above like a ghost. I nodded and acknowledged to someone with me that, yes, this was always sad when things like this happen, though I seemed somehow far removed in time from the scene and even reality itself and could only manage a wistful sort of sadness, like sadness at the passing of an era, and retained a small, understanding smile.

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The Pomeranian and the Crawfish

This is another story that I did for a message board for a thread that was normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. At that time people were taking turns writing short stories containing a short list of words given by another user. The list of words for this story: pomeranian, headress, sled, crawfish, creep

This story was part of a group I did for post number 989. I did another group for post number 1000, catching up on ones I missed. And as with post 1000, post 989 was the second time that number was reached, due to the board crash that cut several hundred from my post count but left the posts themselves unaffected.

This story is dated 5:04 AM, November 29, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE POMERANIAN AND THE CRAWFISH

The pomeranian rode his sled across the ice, his head held high. He wore a headdress of nobility and power, denoting his status.

As he turned a corner, a crawfish stuck out a claw and knocked him off the sled. He lay stunned, and the crawfish came toward him, creeping silently across the ice.

The crawfish looked down at the pomeranian's crumpled form, then reached down and took the headdress from him. Placing the headdress on its own head, it went away muttering, "I wondered where that went."

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The Dance

Many of the things mentioned in this poem actually happened to me. I haven't seen any sea serpents yet, though. I haven't seen any angels either, at least as far as I know. I do think I have a guardian angel, probably several. Perhaps some day they'll appear more openly and we can have a talk, even if I don't see them dance.

This poem is dated 6:38 AM, August 25, 2007, Arizona time (MST).


THE DANCE

How many angels can dance
On the head of a pin?
Was an argument
No one could win.

How many sea serpents
In the sea?
First depends
On whether sea serpents be.

How many flying saucers
In the skies?
How to tell
The truth from lies?

Would something that goes bump
Within the night,
Still go bump
In the broad daylight?

I have seen something
In the sky,
I have not seen since,
Though the days go by.

My name was called
By no one there,
Though I came when called
And looked everywhere.

Things that might have gone wrong,
Somehow went right.
In darkness trapped,
I saw with more than sight.

Helped somehow
by things unseen,
Who knew just when
To intervene.

So much out there
we do not see,
How can we say
it cannot be.

Could angels dance upon a pin,
Singing merrily all night long?
Would we all be welcomed there,
If we weren't a stranger to their song?

Or do we need to see
What can't be seen,
To join the dance
Where the angels sing?

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Thursday, September 25, 2008

Where's my sock? or Sock on, sock off

Back when I was in high school, a long time ago, a more restrictive dress code was instituted, requiring, among other things, that socks be worn.

Not long after this, I was sitting in class one day when I felt coldness on one of my legs, near the ankle. I looked down and discovered, to my horror, that I had only one sock on. To make matters worse, I was sitting at the very front of the class, approximately in the middle.

The teacher, a man, was on the far right side of the room, standing up, talking to the class. After a while, he turned and walked to the left, I guess to talk to somebody over there. As he passed me, he frowned at me but didn't say anything.

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Sunday, August 31, 2008

Dream - The superimposed cat

A long time ago, probably around 1980, give or take a few years, I had a strange dream.

I dreamed I saw my mother (who is still alive) in the dining room near the counter that divides the dining room from the kitchen. She was in the dark but was partially lit, probably from a light over the kitchen sink. She had a sad and somewhat hurt look on her face, and seemed to be waiting for something. Perhaps she was just waiting for the time to pass. It was disturbing to see her there like that, looking hurt, there in the dark in the middle of the night. I don't recall why I came into the dining room, but it must have been for a different reason, as I didn't expect to see her there.

She saw me as soon as I came in, and as we looked at each other, I dimly saw the outline of the form of a cat appear around her. The image of the cat wavered in intensity, fading in and out a bit. The dream eventually ended.

Later, we found out that in my grandmother's house, a few streets over from us, a sick kitten had hidden behind a bed and slowly died, perhaps on that very night. The kitten wasn't found immediately, so the actual time of death is uncertain, but it would need to be near that time.

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The Centipede with the Parasol

This is a story that I did for a message board, on a thread normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. They were at that time doing exercises where a user gave a short list of words and other users then wrote a story containing those words. The list of words for this story: gum, prozac, parasol, centipede, tipee (spelled here as tepee).

This was my post number 1000 for that message board, but it was the second time I hit that number. The board software experienced problems a few times over the years and reduced some of the post counts of a lot of the users along with dropping some of the user data. The first time I only lost about 5 or so from my post count, but I didn't have very many posts at the time. Much later, another glitch removed a few hundred. The actual posts weren't affected.

This story is dated 9:23 PM, December 1, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE CENTIPEDE WITH THE PARASOL

The centipede came out of the tepee holding a parasol. It put a stick of gum in its mouth and chewed carefully, blew an enormous bubble, and then released it and let it sail into space. Putting another stick of gum in its mouth, it peered closely at me and said, "The Prozac didn't work, huh?"

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Below the Stars

I originally published this poem on a message board, as is the case with many, though not all, of my poems. The poem seems to indicate that I might have needed to think of happier memories at the time. Perhaps the message board also needed to. It did seem to be a time of troubles on it.

This poem is dated 9:14 AM, April 19, 2007, Arizona time (MST).


BELOW THE STARS

Below the stars
Beneath the sky
The Earth still turns
The days go by

Time moves along
Upon its way
Though we cry out
It does not stay

Memories we have
Of things that were
Of times long past
That are no more

Some memories stay
And some may go
Some are happy
And some bring woe

Happy memories
Are generally best
The ones that are bad
Can cause regret

So even if just
For a little while
Let's make memories
That make us smile

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Sunday, July 27, 2008

Posts from the abandoned Story

These are the posts that I made to the guestbook version of write101.com's The Never-Ending Story. As I stated earlier in my post on September 11, 2007, the story was begun on two pages on the website and then continued on the guestbook. The guestbook version was finally discontinued and the story was partially restarted as a blog, with people continuing the story by means of comments.

The guestbook version had many interesting characters and situatins. Sometimes a person would make an entry that killed off a main character, more than once even killing off the main character, Dr. Morgenes. The characters were almost always revived later on by other people. One of my posts, in fact, revived Dr. Morgenes.

Some of the other characters that appeared were Morgenes' wife Maria, his mother-in-law Lucinda Carlotta Borgia de Corlione, the adventuress and actress Viburnia Hedgerow, Father Wetherly, a talking giant Gerbil, a talking Yak, a talking Yeti (abominable snowman), a talking dog, a talking Anvil (practically everything talked), Elvis, and a man named Phillis Diller.

The Never-Ending Story was restarted as a blog on January 18, 2005, though I did not find out until much later. My last entry to the guestbook version occurred on August 28, 2005. The story on the guestbook was not getting many new entries at that time. Most of the potential writers may have been aware of the blog version. The text copy I have of the guestbook version ends with my last entry. The guestbook version may have in fact ended with my last entry, but I don't know for sure. I only accessed the story occasionally, and probably the next time I tried to access it was the time it failed to load, even after a long wait.

Toward the end, the format of the guestbook version changed. One of the changes was the removal of carriage returns from the posts and the merging of all paragraphs into one. This change apparently occurred late in 2004, perhaps in October of that year. It was in effect for my last post, and so it appeared there as one long paragraph. It appears here, though, as I originally intended.


Name: Stephen
Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/stephen_m99/
Hometown: Arizona
Sent: 2.54 PM - 3/28 [2004]

The door in the gumboot opened and a tall figure emerged, dressed in a dark cloak, a dark helmet, and a dark mask. His breath hissed noisely. He turned to Morgenes and said, "Join me! Come to the dark side."

Morgenes, taken aback by this apparition, found it hard to make a reply, but finally stammered out "What if I don't?"

The dark figure raised a flaming sword and said, "Then I must use this."

Smithy, the ancient sailor, who had somehow returned unnoticed in all the confusion, squinted at the dark figure and said, "Is that you, Luke?"

The figure paused, raised the mask, pulled a corncob pipe out of his mouth, and squinted back at the sailor.

"Is that you, Pappy?" he said. "It is, it's me Pappy, after all these years! You don't happen to have any... spinach with you, do you?"

Morgenes stared in shock from one to the other. What did this mean? And did the strange dark figure still want Morgenes to join him, or was the dark figure now joining them?

Meanwhile, no one noticed a hand emerge from a hole in the air and reach for the flaming sword...



Name: Stephen
Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/stephen_m99/
Hometown: Arizona
Sent: 1.07 PM - 7/29 [2004]

Morgenes suddenly sat up, trembling. "What's happening, man, a bad dream?" said Richard. Morgenes said, "A dream? No, I fear it was a vision, a omen of disaster. And don't eat the eggs."



Name: Stephen
Homepage: http://www.geocities.com/stephen_m99/
Hometown: Arizona
Sent: 10.31 AM - 9/17 [2004]

"Wait here, " the beautiful woman said, "and I will get us some drinks."

Morgenes watched, a dreamy expression on his face. Had he been somehow transported to Heaven? Surely, Heaven held no angels prettier than what he was seeing now.

From a distance, a yak and a shaggy, man-like figure watched, as the woman took a strange bottle that she had somehow concealed upon her person (but where?) and poured something into one of the drinks.

"Should we intervene?" the Yeti asked, stratching his shaggy head.

"Nah," the Yak said, "it's just getting interesting."



Name: Stephen
Homepage: http://stephen-has-spoken.blogspot.com/
City: Arizona
Sent: 08/28 03:28 AM [2005]

Morgenes stared at the apple core. He couldn't believe that he'd actually eaten that apple. It had tasted horrid. He had been so hungry, though... He had a vague memory of having died (again), and come back to life (again). And what had been that bit about the boy and the giant talking dog? Morgenes stared at his drink suspicously. Had he been poisened again? He suddenly felt very warm.

He took off his long, grey beach coat and went over to the closet to hang it up. He opened the closet door and paused. A strange man, wearing long sideburns and a sparkly white jumpsuit, stood there. The man took the coat from him and hung it up. Morgenes stared, then abrubtly slammed the closet door and stood with his back to it, his face pale.

The beautiful dark-haired woman paused, frowning. Had Morgenes seen what she had hidden there?

Phillis Diller had turned back from the ocean and was watching, drink in hand, a strange expression on his face. He opened his mouth to speak...

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The Post Unlaced

This is another poem that was originally posted to a message board, to a thread about poems. While it was posted to keep the thread going, it is one of the better poems I have written for such a purpose.

This poem is dated 4:49 PM, December 17, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE POST UNLACED

At this time
With some haste
I leave this post
All unlaced

With lines askew
And reason frayed
It fell from
The bed it made

Perhaps another day
Will come
With other posts
That are more fun

This day I leave
This post for you
All unlaced
but spirit true

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Monday, June 30, 2008

Dream - Leaving Earth

Back in November of 2007, a few days into the month, I had a dream about the remaining population of Earth being rescued by extraterrestrial aliens.

Most of the population of Earth had been destroyed or had somehow died off, but how this happened is unclear. There seemed to be a lot of fog or smoke, and people tended to live in pockets that might be separated from each other by vast stretches of bare dirt. Some cities, or portions of cities, still stood, but the population in them was frequently sparse, sometimes thinly spread out and sometimes in groups near the edges.

I was with a group of people that was some distance away from a city and that was somewhat distrustful of the city, and of outsiders in general. Battles had taken place with the groups of people in and near the city and with other groups farther away, battles in an earlier and largely forgotten part of the dream.

Terrible weapons and futuristic technology had been used against us, sometimes from a great distance away, but we had somehow managed to prevent our destruction. This was in part because of an invisible barrier we had placed around our area, some kind of force field, that prevented some of the weapons from reaching us. We had not been sure that it could hold, and it was weakening as the battle progressed. In the end it was still standing, somewhat to our surprise. We had agents outside working against our various enemies, but the battle ended in part simply because the enemies' major weapons were used up.

That was in the past. Now the old animosity was ending and people were coming together in a kind of peace. It was something that happened rapidly. Word reached us, and we cautiously reached out, some of us heading toward the city. Aliens had come, aliens from outer space.

The aliens knew of the disaster, and had arrived to rescue most of the remaining people. The aliens were disguised to look like humans, but under the disguise could be very much different.

More than one alien race was involved. One type looked like reptiles with protruding heads and approximately humanlike, but overly thick, bodies. Although appearing, like the others, to be human, this type was too bulky to fit in a human disguise. Some kind of illusion accounted for at least part of its appearance. Perhaps illusion was most of the disguise for all the types.

The aliens were leaving with the people in eight days. Humans were being rapidly trained in various things, apparently mostly related to the journey, rather than what might be needed after arrival. There was no time for the people to gather much to take with them. Almost everything needed or wanted would have to be recreated after they arrived on the new world. The aliens were leaving on time, and would not wait for anyone. Some other disaster (or continuation of the current one) was going to happen soon after they left that would likely wipe out the remaining people.

There was a huge, warehouse-size room with lots of desks and people who looked human (but probably weren't) sitting behind the desks and helping the people who wanted to leave fill out various forms. The people/aliens behind the desks were very quick and businesslike. Once, in that room, I saw a guard briefly change to a reptilian entity and back to human again while having an animated discussion with someone else, probably another disguised alien. There seemed to be a big rush to get everything done, at times almost a desperate rush. People who completed the forms were hurrying through turnstiles to another area, apparently to where the spaceships were. The whole left side of the long room was filled with turnstiles. There seemed to be very little time left.

I watched what was happening, still not sure whether I wanted to go or not.

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The Idea of a Circle

Long, long ago, back in grade school, the teacher wanted each of us to come up with an idea and to make something, in a box, that represented that idea.

I thought for a long time about what idea I should use, and finally decided on the idea of a circle. I used an old cigar box for the box, and put lots of circles in it, with some of them being partial circles coming from the inner sides of the box. Some of the circles or partial circles were painted and some were cut out of colored paper. At least once I made a circle out of white glue and then sprinkled sand on it, and then painted it after it dried. I also made a big arc of colored paper coming out of one of the inner sides, a little distance from the bottom, supported on tiny pillars of rolled paper. It was on this arc of colored paper that I wrote, "THE IDEA OF A CIRCLE".

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Dream - The figure with the hat and coat

Back on June 12, 2007, I wrote a post called "The figure in the doorway." This was about a dream I had in early January 2005, in which a short, thin figure wearing a hat and trenchcoat stood in the doorway watching me. This is some additional information about that figure.

The feeling I got about the figure with the hat and coat was of interested watching with a potential for action. I guess I felt kind of like it was checking in on me. And, as I said, like it was "aware" of me on some deeper level. I didn't know what action it might take, should it decide to take action, and so there was a possibility of something being done that might be dangerous or scary, but I don't recall a feeling of evil about the entity. There was also a bit of a feeling that a kind of judgment was being passed by the entity, a judgment on me and my situation, and that the entity had great power, power enough to even alter reality if it chose, but that it would not necessarily choose to do anything.

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This is This

This poem is something that came to me, for the most part, fairly quickly. I did take some extra time on the last half of it, enlarging it to four verses instead of three and making the third verse follow the pattern of the second verse. I posted it to a message board shortly after writing it. Though the poem might be taken to have a bit of an edge to it, it was mostly done in humor. I think.

This poem is dated 1:33 AM, June 10, 2008, Arizona time (MST).


THIS IS THIS

This is this
And that is that
Where I am
Is where I'm at

Where I go
Is where I'll be
If you're there
Then me you'll see

Where I went
Is where I was
If I'm still there
I haven't budged

What I do
Is what I does
And I wrote this
Just because

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Saturday, May 31, 2008

Dream - The watchers in the walls

In 2007, sometime in the first few months of the year, I had a strange dream.

At some point in the dream, a small figure, perhaps one and a half feet tall, was by me. I was on the second or third floor of a big building, standing by a bench and some equipment of some kind. The small figure is vague, and I don't remember clearly seeing its face, but its body was white and very ragdoll-like. I picked it up and it complained in a sad, strange, high monotone voice, wanting to be put back down. I walked over to the window and held it out the window, holding it with one hand around its waist, or where a waist would normally be. After holding it out the window for a while, I finally set it on the small, sloping metal hood of some tall equipment that was outside by the window. I didn't let go, because it would slide off and fall if I did. The yard outside seemed to be an empty lot with various pieces of equipment stored in it. The creature continued to complain the whole time, only this time it was begging me not to let it go.

I finally brought it back inside and set it down, after which it stopped complaining and seemed to lose interest in me. I then went to another part of that floor, which was more house-like.

A few other people were there, shorter and much younger than I am (I am tall, though). They may have been in their early twenties, and they all seemed to be around the same age. I didn't recognize them, though I seemed to have some kind of connection to them in some way.

They let me stay in a bedroom in a space between two beds. I was wearing an old, gray, heavy coat. The floor between the beds was raised up some, almost like a shallow transmission tunnel in a car. The floor was also covered with thin carpeting, worn through in places.

I lay down between the beds, on the raised, irregular floor, and tried to sleep. I couldn't sleep, though, and saw in my mind beings embedded in the walls all around me. They were pale, and perhaps four or five feet tall. They were raised off the floor, but I sensed that they were actually standing on a surface in a different dimension, a surface that I couldn't see. They were back a little ways behind the surface of the walls, and stood silently in a row going around at least three of the walls. Except for their dark eyes, silently watching me, their faces were relatively blank and almost mask-like.

I got back up and went back toward the other part of the room. I found the tiny figure from the earlier part of the dream standing there, apparently waiting for me. I was tired of this and I thought that since this was a dream, I could get it to tell me what it was.

I reached down to pick it up, apparently mentally communicating my demand, and abruptly the creature changed. It expanded out of my grasp, leaning back and floating on the air as it did so. It became perhaps five feet tall, with very wide shoulders and chest. Its clothes were tight-fitting, and seemed secured at the wrists and ankles. Its arms and legs swelled out between the joints, almost like they were inflated. The whole thing was fairly balloon-like, like a figure wearing inflated clothes, though I felt that it was the figure's body stretching against the clothes, and not air. Oddly, the hands and feet were relatively normal size, even being a little small.

The body, enlarged it was, was now slightly transparent, and was tilted back so much that it was nearly horizontal. Its head was tilted forward, looking at me with big, demonic eyes and a mouth open in a wide demonic grin, as it slowly drifted backward and faded out.

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Dream - The underlying structure of reality

Two or three years ago I had a strange dream. I don't remember the first part, but toward the end of the dream I was flying high in the air, trying to escape some people. The feeling was of exhilaration.

I looked down toward the ground and decided to zoom in with my vision and get a closer look. I felt that I had the power, in this situation, to do this. Probably because I realized that it was a dream, and so under my control, and I could do things I normally couldn't.

So I zoomed in with my eyes and the ground rapidly expanded and became closer. I did it again and again, until I was looking at the ground from an apparent distance of inches. I decided to keep on doing it, to look closer and closer, down to the subatomic level and even smaller, if I could. I wanted to see what the ultimate structure of reality was, what was under everything.

So I kept on zooming in, over and over, getting closer and closer until finally I tried again and nothing else happened.

I was looking at white lines on a dark background. The lines were in the form of short, even lengths attached to a longer line that acted as a central axis, with a line at the end of the axis joining it to other, similar structures. The arrangement did not extend indefinitely, but was limited to a couple of collections of the patterns, one larger than the other. I think that they may have been connected to each other.

There may have been more of them at a greater distance (and I felt that there were), but if so I was concentrating on what was in front of me and did not see them.

There also seemed to be something else, boundaries of some kind, gray on gray and black on black. And some vague, dark structures. The boundaries and the structures seemed slightly more three-dimensional than the lines, which were very flat. The boundaries were also sometimes curved instead of straight, and seemed more random, though they smoothly enclosed the groups of white lines.

I looked closely at the white lines, following some of them. If I concentrated, I could look a little closer, though nothing like the zooming in that I had been doing.

The lines were very straight and they had a uniform thickness, but on close viewing I saw that the edges of the lines were slightly irregular. They had a certain roughness to them.

The overall visual impression was of something like a parking lot or a circuit board, though I didn't know the lines' purpose or what they were.

I felt, though, that I was looking at what the underlying structure of reality really was, and that I couldn't zoom in any more because I was already at maximum magnification.

If there was anything more, it was beyond my ability to see it.

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In 2012

The 2012 in the poem refers to the date that the Mayan calendar ends, generally said to be December 21, 2012. That marks the end of the calendar and the end of the age, after which the calendar restarts and a new age begins. Some say that the end of the old age and the beginning of the new one will be a time of trouble, with many changes happening. Predictions of the future are frequently in error, though. We'll know in a few more years, one way or the other.

This poem is dated 3:02 AM, February 6, 2007, Arizona time (MST).


IN 2012

In 2012
The world will end
In 2012
The world began

And the world begins
With each new day
And sets us all
Upon our way

Will the world ever end
And not begin?
We will know
When we get there then

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What lay around the bend

About 10 to 12 years ago, something odd happened as I was driving late one night.

I was in Arizona on a road going into an increasingly mountainous area. The road was fairly empty, but there were occasional cars and trucks, sometimes coming in clumps. I went up a long slope, and then the road turned abruptly right, went a short distance, and turned abruptly left. Because of the mountains, I couldn't see around the curves. It was a way I had been many times before.

For some reason, I was very cautious and suspicious as I went around the second curve. As I came into a view of the road beyond, I saw a forklift carrying what appeared to be a telephone pole across the road. There was a long flatbed truck parked a ways off to the left of the road, with some poles on the bed and some on the ground. I think some may have been at least partly on the road, also.

I immediately stopped, since I was prepared for something being there, and sat in my car and watched the forklift slowly carry the telephone pole across the road to the right. It was going away from the truck, so it was evidently not concerned with putting it back on the truck. It all took place in darkness. There may have been a flashlight or two in use somewhere, but not much more. The road did not have any barriers set up, either.

Although it seemed to take a long time for the forklift to cross the road and get out of my way, it probably actually wasn't too long. I began to get concerned, though, that someone might come up behind me, maybe even some big truck, and run into me. Nothing like that happened, though, and eventually the forklift was out of the way and I drove on past it.

Good thing I had that suspicious feeling, though.

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Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Dream - The doomsday machine

Saturday morning, October 13, 2007, I had a dream about another world in a parallel universe, a world in some ways much like ours.

In the dream, in this other universe, I had just had a birthday (in real life, my birthday was months ago), and I was taking a paper plate of brownies, wrapped in plastic, with me to eat on my trip. I was traveling by car, driving to another state to visit various military installations out in the desert. The installations were small, with small groups of people, where doomsday weapons, generally missiles of various types, were being worked on. We had been in a low-level war for a long time, against a large country on the other side of the world.

At one of the installations, people from another universe visited, appearing in a dimly lit and uneven hole in our universe. The people were dark-skinned, and looked like normal black people. They said that they, too, had been visited by aliens. They said that the aliens didn't talk much, but that the aliens did say they were from another universe or dimension and were not like us. As the visitors from another universe said that, I could see in my mind the aliens beside them.

The aliens looked like vague, three-dimensional shadows with wide, flat heads with points on the side, almost like flattened cat ears. The aliens' eyes were wide from side to side and somewhat narrowed, and glowed yellow-white with orange around the edges.

The people from another universe said that they didn't, themselves, possess the technology to come here and were just piggy-backing on the alien technology and couldn't stay long, and they soon disappeared.


At some point, I ended up in a restaurant in a small town. I was sitting at a table attached to a wall. Some other people were at the table with me. I had brought two large cloth bags with me. The bags had wide canvas straps for carrying and long zippers holding them closed. They held various things I brought with me on my trip, mainly notebooks and books and pens and pencils and various other things.

I opened the bags and began taking things out, laying them on the table and the floor. One of the things I took out was a computer, which was not something I had originally brought with me, but was something I had been given at one of the installations. It was about the size of a closed laptop computer, but it didn't have a hinged screen; the screen was built into it.

The screen display was dark, with a lit outline of an image. I was trying to adjust the display, to increase it to maximum size but not so large that the edges would be lost. The image also tried to tilt, and I had to adjust it to straighten it. It was difficult, because the controls at the bottom were very sensitive and just a touch made the screen move, and because the display was dark and the image on it didn't have straight lines or extend to the edges of the screen, which made it hard to see where the edges of the screen were.

The image on the screen was a colored outline of the United States. The image disturbed me, though, because there seemed to be something wrong with it. The outline seemed to show how the United States might look if the ocean had risen significantly and covered part of the coastline.

I finally decided it was time to leave the restaurant. I had been there a long time and it was getting late. I tried to put the things back in the cloth bags, but most of it seemed to be missing. As I looked around for it, more of it seemed to disappear. I finally left one mostly-empty bag there by the table, hoping that if someone found the missing stuff they would send it to me. I picked up the other, not very full bag, put it over my shoulder and left. Outside the restaurant it was dark. I put down the bag and fiddled with the computer display again for a while, before giving it up for later and moving on.


Sometime later, I was with a girl in a small car heading back to a town. We had evidently been out in the desert looking at some installations. I was in the passenger seat and she was driving. She was not very tall and was probably somewhere in her thirties, but it was hard to tell. She was wearing a short-sleeved lightweight dress that fell below her knees. The dress was wide, but extended out only moderately and seemed to want to hang in large folds. The dress was dirty with dust and what looked like soot, and so was she. This seemed to be normal; at least I didn't think it was anything unusual.

Outside it was daytime, though the sun wasn't very bright. The sky seemed to have a smoky haze with thin, smoky clouds. This also seemed normal. The car we were in was small and seemed to have very short fenders. From inside, I could see the tops of the front wheels. The tires were very wide and the tops were almost straight, with only a trace of tread. They seemed to be old, but I felt that new ones would not be much different.

The road we were on was dirt, and was wide and had a slight upward slope. The dirt of the road was the same color as the dirt of the desert, a pale brown, almost cream color, and seemed roughly bulldozed, with an occasional large chunk of sharp quartz rock on it. The tires didn't seem to care, though.


After we got back to town, we went in a small building with several rooms. I decided to take a nap. While I slept, the aliens communicated with the girl, with voices in her head. They told her how the conflict could be ended, how the war could finally be over. They told her how to build a doomsday machine, not a missile but something that would shoot poison gas high into the atmosphere and cover the Earth. It would take about half an hour to cover the Earth and settle down to where the people were, and another half hour to kill them. There was no cure and no antidote. Everyone would die.

She listened to the voices in her head and built the machine, while I slept on unaware. It looked somewhat like a large, very wide artillery shell, and was close to three feet tall. When it was finished, she stared at it for a while with eyes that were a little wide. Then she activated it.

An extremely dense column of air shot up, so dense that it was opaque, with ripples in the air at the edges. It continued for a while, as she watched, and then, its job done, either stopped automatically or was shut off by her.


A little while later I woke up. I had done pretty much everything I needed to do on this trip, and it was time to go home. I gathered up my bags, now fairly full again, and noticed that I still had two brownies left on the paper plate. This disturbed me somewhat, as I had intended to have them all eaten by now.

I went with the girl, then, to a local mall to have a last look around before I left. I had my bags hung over my shoulders by their straps and was still holding the paper plate with the two brownies, wondering if I should start eating them now or leave them for the trip. The mall was large and crowded with people. The ceiling was unusually low for a mall, perhaps only ten or twelve feet high, and a large grate was in it not far from us.

As I looked at the grate, blue air, clear and see-through, started flowing out of it, looking almost like flowing blue water. The girl beside me looked up at it and her eyes grew wide in panic. She began to run, crossing in front of me and going to the right, and ran rapidly off down the mall. She was soon lost in the crowd.

I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew something was wrong and ran after her. I couldn't see where she was, but I went in the direction that she had been going and where I hoped she might have gone. As I ran, I changed direction to go at a long angle across the wide aisle of the mall, and I found a door at the other side. I went through the door, though I wasn't sure whether she had gone that way or continued down the mall.


The door led to the outside, where a large, narrow triangle of landscaped ground was. It had lots of green bushes and some strange green trees that looked almost like giant broccoli sprigs six or eight feet high. Between the plants, pale ground was visible, the same ground that was everywhere else. To the left, a wide, paved road came out from under an overpass, an overpass that seemed to be an extension of the mall. The road went past me at a slight angle toward the mall, and was filled with vehicles moving very fast.

I started running to the right at an angle toward the road. I was running very fast, the figures 60 and 66 miles per hour came into my mind. I saw the bushes and trees rush past me as I ran. I felt that I could have merged with the traffic on the road, but I decided to run in the dirt beside it. Early on, I had dropped to all fours, reaching out with both hands and grabbing the earth with my fingers, pulling on it and sending a spray of it backwards as I went forward, bounding along.

As we left the landscaped area, the plants thinned out and became sparse and changed in character, becoming more like clumps of grass and occasional small bushes. The road gradually turned toward the town, or what I thought was the town. I could see it in the distance, but it was much bigger than I remembered; it was a small city. The buildings were close-spaced, with occasional tall buildings sticking up. All the buildings were a light tan color, the same color as the dirt.

I was losing energy now, though I didn't really feel tired. The vehicles had all gone ahead and the road was empty now. While they were still there, the road had become progressively less maintained, and had turned briefly into a dark gravel before becoming dirt. Now I continued alone, still by the side of the road, on hands and knees now, still reaching out both hands at once and pulling myself along.

A raised area had appeared by the road, perhaps six or eight inches high on the side by the road and perhaps half that on the other side. The somewhat-flat top was about eight inches wide, and the sides dropped off sharply from it. The raised area had a line of holes in it, a line that extended into the distance, and had uneven, eroded cracks between some of the holes. The holes appeared to have originally been a few inches across, but were now mostly filled in. Some of the dirt in the holes appeared to be relatively fresh. As I pulled myself along the raised area, I wondered if some animals might be living in the holes, and might jump out and try to get me. None did, though.

Eventually, I came to realize that the raised area with the line of holes was all that was left of an ancient wall of dried clay blocks. The clay blocks were built somewhat like concrete blocks, in that they were about the same size and had hollow areas, but the hollow areas in the clay blocks were smaller and the clay blocks didn't seem to be as tall.


I continued toward the closer-but-still-distant city, crawling on my stomach now, still pulling myself forward with both hands, fingers clawing at the hard, eroded surface of the dried clay blocks, sending more dirt into the holes. The raised area that had been a wall of blocks was down to the level of the rest of the desert now, and the only things that distinguished the dirt of the still-wide road from the dirt of the desert were the flatness of the road, the lack of vegetation on it, the occasional tire track, and the line of holes near the edge of it.

The part of me that knew what was going on wondered if somewhere, someone would realize what was happening and set off the missiles, in an attempt for revenge against an apparent attack. Wouldn't it be funny, I thought, if the atomic explosions when the missiles hit turned out to destroy the poison and allow a few people to live on. Wouldn't it be funny, I thought, if the missiles that had been intended to be doomsday weapons actually ended up saving a few people.

The part of me on the ground knew nothing about that, and didn't understand what was happening. I knew something was wrong, and that I was very weak and getting weaker. I had hoped that I could at least reach the city before I died, but I was afraid now that I might not make it. I looked at the city, still so far away, and continued to slowly crawl toward it.

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Message Madness, or The Post That Wailed

The post in the poem is, of course, a message board post. I originally wrote this poem for a message board I frequently visit, for a thread for users' poems. The message board had recently, at the time, been going through some troubles, but this poem does not refer to any specific post by me or anyone else. Like most of my other poems, it did not originally have a title, but has since been given one. This poem is dated 12:59 AM, 7/20/2007, Arizona time (MST).


I shot a post into the air,
It fell to Earth and quivered there,
And gave a wild uncertain shout,
And madly madly ran about.

And hid within the debris field,
And cowardly refused to yield,
And let no others have their say,
And even kept the dogs at bay.

I let out one of many sighs,
As it watched back through narrowed eyes.
With its eyes so burning hot,
Watching me though I watched not.

I finally went upon my way,
Letting it decide to go or stay.
Left it lonely sitting there,
I could not say without a care.

I've heard it's still occasionally seen,
Among the debris it hides within.
I saw it there again today,
I guess some posts are just that way.

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A nail, or something like it

Around 12 years or so ago, on a visit to Reno, Nevada, I pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. As I chose a parking space, off by myself with few other cars around, I said to myself, "There's going to be a nail RIGHT HERE!"

When I got out of the car and looked, a few feet from a front wheel and somewhat off to the side I found a small nail-like rivet.

I suppose I must have been especially tuned to these things, as I had relatively recently been having tire trouble, though with bits of glass and not nails.

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Dream - The figure that came out of the wall

I had a strange dream, or possibly something else, around 1997 or 1998.

In the dream, I was laying in bed (where I actually physically was) and a strange figure started coming through the wall beside me, but a few feet higher in the wall.

The figure was initially somewhat cloudy, but became clearer as time went on. It was also totally black and statue-like. Even the hair, which was curly, looked like something that was carved.

It was also not a complete figure, just the head and shoulders and part of the torso. The figure was not vertical, but was on its side, with the body and head pointing the same direction mine was. (I think, though, that it may have initially been more vertically oriented, but slowly twisted to the other orientation.)

It was also not initially facing me, but slowly, slowly turned in my direction. It's eyes were closed. It moved so slowly that it seemed to be partially replaying itself, like a movie extending a scene by showing almost the same shot over and over.

As it turned toward me more and more, and slowly emerged further from the wall, it very, very slowly smiled. Its eyes remained closed.

It had the face of my brother.

A feeling of absolute horror surrounded this, and a feeling of terrible danger. It also had a strange, almost hypnotic pull, like something in it was reaching out toward me, trying to draw me in.


I finally managed to wake up. I don't know why it looked like my brother, who is still alive. If anything odd was happening to him at that time, he never mentioned it, but I never asked, either. I should mention also, for clarity, that although the figure was black, we are white, so black is not a normal color for my brother. I suppose the blackness of the figure could have been related to the feeling of danger surrounding it, that the blackness was because it was evil. That still doesn't explain why it looked like my brother, who is not evil. (He has been involved with art in the past, though, which might explain the statue-like appearance.)

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Friday, March 21, 2008

Dream - The long white hallway

I had a dream, probably sometime in the fall of 2006, that was relatively normal for the most part (normal for me, that is), but turned very strange toward the end.

Toward the end of the dream, I found that someone had come into my room and taken some things from me. I went searching for them, and came to a store and started looking through it. The store got much bigger as I searched, becoming similar to Wal-Mart. At some point, I came to approximately the middle of the store and a little toward the back. When I went to the left to look down another aisle, one of the aisles that led toward the back, abruptly things changed.

The aisle became hallway-like, and people rose up into the air, tilted until they were more or less horizontal, and floated. I rose up in the air also, but tilted only partly forward. The air itself seemed like a slightly thickened water, like a gelatin that has not yet set. I watched as the other people changed, becoming darker, with their limbs shrinking and becoming just lumpy extensions, their bodies lengthening and even having something of a short, thick tail. In some cases their heads, or the large lumpy things that passed for heads, turned down toward their chests.

The floor was white, as before, but the aisle/hallway had white walls now, instead of just shelves of merchandise. It also now had no ceiling, and gradually, over a long span of time, the people were drifting upward and outward into a blank whiteness. I kept trying to hurry forward, trying to run, but it seemed difficult to do so, and I seemed to mostly hang there in the air. The aisle-turned-hallway lengthened into an indefinite distance, ending in a vague whiteness. I seemed to hang in a timeless space, trying to move forward.

Some time later, it's hard to say how long, but it felt like a great deal of time had passed, I became aware that I was noticeably closer to the end. I could see far away at the end three figures looking like ink drawings. I interpreted the figures to be gods. The central one was turned toward me, but his head was turned to the side and he was looking partly upward. The other two were partly turned out to either side, and were also with heads tilted partly upward. The three had their arms partly raised in different degrees, with their hands in some cases reaching shoulder or chest height. They were massive figures, like something drawn by a Renaissance artist. Their heads and shoulders rose above the walls and they were visible only from the waist up, fading below into the indefinite whiteness of the end of the hallway.

More timeless time passed, and I was closer. The figures were larger, but still looked like ink drawings, and were unchanged in appearance.

Again more time passed, and I was now much closer to the end of the hallway. At some point, all the other people had drifted away into the whiteness, and I was alone. The massive figures, still looking like ink drawings, were unchanged except for the large increase in size brought about by the closeness of them. They began to slowly rise and separate from each other, the drawings still fading away at the waist. As they slowly drifted upward and outward, below them, not far away now, the indefinite whiteness of the end of the tunnel was revealed, unobstructed. It looked large now, in front of me.

I stared at it, my eyes open wide. I was still filled with a sense of timeless peace, but also with a sense of that fading and something else beginning, of something else on the other side, a place where things happened, a place less timeless.

The indefinite whiteness of the end of the hallway was not far away now. I slowly drifted, with a quiet anticipation, toward it.

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More posts about posts

Last summer I posted a collection of posts I made to a message board I visit frequently. This is another collection of those posts.

On that message board, new threads crowd out old ones, old in this case meaning oldest last update. Threads can persist for a long time, however, if they are posted to frequently enough so that they stay comfortably away from the bottom of the list.

I help to keep some of the threads going, by posting to them when it seems that a new post might be needed. On threads about writing or poems, I have sometimes posted poems. Most of these poems refer to posts or posting in some manner, and most of them are short, sometimes very short, though a few are fairly long.

This is another collection of some of the poems. They did not originally have titles, but I have given them titles here. The times shown are in Arizona time (MST), not the time on the message board, which uses Eastern time.


I LEAVE THIS POST
5:04 PM 6/10/2006

Around the world,
Across the way,
The sun has made,
Another day.

Within this time,
Within this place,
Within this now,
That we have made.

I leave this post,
For all to see,
Containing these...
My words for thee.



TOO LATE THE POST
12:54 PM 6/28/2006

Too late the post,
And like most,
This thread will disappear.

So do your part,
Straight from the heart,
And place your post right here.



I POSTED A POST
2:04 AM 10/6/2006

I posted a post
Worse than most
Better than some
Much better than none

The post revives
And brings new highs
And for a while
Might bring a smile

If this post won't do
Perhaps one from you
Would be the one
To get it done

And in this way
The thread might stay
And not be a ghost
For want of a post



IN THE RACE
6:55 PM 12/7/2006

I put this post
Upon this place
So that this thread
Stays in the race

So that it lives
Another day
And so more posts
Might find their way

Perhaps a post
From you will come
Posts are needed
As a race is run

Some threads win
And some must go
Let this thread stay
Let the words flow

As time moves on
Let this thread rise
And be a delight
To everyone's eyes

Let posters post
And viewers watch
And be inspired
And ideas hatch

So that this thread
Should never die
And in old age
Be forever spry

I put this post
Upon this place
Let your post come
Come join the race



TIME FOR MORE
12:19 PM 2/26/2007

Time for more
That's for sure
For thoughts in rhyme
Now's the time

Put them here
Have no fear
Do not stall
We welcome all



TIME TO WRITE
11:49 PM 3/22/2007

Heavy or light
Time to write



PUT DOWN A WORD
1:40 AM 8/3/2007

Put down a word
Put down a line
Make a story
Or make a rhyme

Something you know
Or something you feel
Or somewhere you've been
Whether dream or real

Write it here
Don't wait too long
Without new posts
This thread is gone

Write a word
A line, a song
Do your part
Keep this thread young



JUST STOPPING BY
12:38 PM 8/14/2007

Just stopping by
To bring this thread high
To say hello
And make it grow

And as everyone knows
Up it goes
From down below
To the top of the row

I bumped this thread
To keep it fed
And make it high
While stopping by

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