quasi random (kaolinfire) wrote,
quasi random

two dreams tonight

I've been having lots of nightmares lately, but last night I slept so poorly that I think I've got a decent handle on writing some down.

The first, that I didn't really remember until I complained that I'd slept for shit, involved seeing Kender for the first time in ages, ages, ages. Though we were both 20-something, still. I feel like we were coming back from some unpleasantness in a movie theatre (possibly one of those uber-metro-plexes in my earlier dreams) [[and there may have been someone else with us, walking just a bit ahead]], and we were walking up a sidewalk to "home", along a row of apartments, out of doors, windows from the apartments facing us, lights flickering in some due to (presuming) television. Kender turns to me, looks me straight in the eyes, and suffers what has to be the most realistic gunshot in one of my dreams, ever. The sound of it was--it had such depth, and volume, and--it was serious bullet time, but in the way of heartbeats getting slower, senses on overload. His chest was caving in from the side, the knowledge of pain but not understanding flashing through his eyes. My eyes registering the slightest flash out of their corners that might have been the muzzle blast. Looking and seeing three silhouettes gathering to run away, in one of the apartments. [[I wake up from the adrenaline of the gunshot]]

Dream two, less interesting, longer; will see if I can really find the beginning. I'm in a city, maybe San Francisco; bits of it I don't recognize. I'm with Amy, but couldn't say where she was at the moment. I think I'm waiting for her, for something. ... I decide to walk up to a comic shop to see if they have any interesting games, while I'm waiting. It winds up being a longer walk than I remember, and I'm limping, with all the various leg wounds of just a week or two ago. At one point, I walk through a laundry shop and read about some strange looking (cobwebs in her hair like a fashion statement) homeless woman that HAD been running for some political office, but had to drop out due to pressures or something. I think she may have been doing laundry there, but I move on. At a stoplighted crossroads, I prepare to turn around, but realize it's just on the other side of the street--I've come this far, I should go on. Some other folks begin crossing the street and I follow them. And then I'm on the kitty-corner street and walking down; I almost miss the comic shop, staring at a sushi bar, but go back, and start stripping off stuff I hadn't been wearing a moment ago (huuuuuuuge down jacket, skipants... but I'm still wearing flipflops and a teeshirt and ((my recently cutoff, from the accident)) jeans, and all that. The proprietor tells me he'll just be a moment ((some comic shop from my childhood in Port Arthur is trying to mesh over all of this, along with bits of CR3 from Berkeley... and Berkeley's old public library)). I'm still struggling to get stuff off (slow and painful, bulky nasty clothes around open wounds...) when he comes back with the book I'd ordered; he flips it open to a paper I'd led with two other people and asks me to sign it. Then he laughs, and starts to get another copy for me to sign, but he doesn't know where it came from, so I ((having been in there a few hours earlier??)) attempt to describe to him using cardinal directions and whatnot, as I have an utterly clear picture where it came from in my mind. He's a bit confused, but starts to wander off. [[I wake up from cats fighting]]

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