OOC: The Dream
The room was black. No light, no windows, all the furnishings were black. Somehow, though, he could see. The curtains were satin, over the walls, and the couches velvet draped in silk. He settled down, reaching for the black wine that tasted more exquisite than imagination could account for. His garments were rich silk and linen, like gentle caresses to his skin.
“I’m glad you saw fit to join us. ♥” The man said, across the room.
“It’s so nice when the family gets together. ♪” The little girl commented.
“We had better have sweet cake.” The rough voice of another man interjected.
“No no, you’re remembering it wrong.” That was his voice, but when he looked there he was, sitting next to himself, his skin was as black as the room-no wait, now the room was lit by candles, and it had color. The walls remained black, but he could make out a pattern of stars on the wallpaper, black on black. His double didn’t change.
“Of course it went like that.” The dreamer argued, looking at the wine-it was still black, coating the edges of the glass in a thick, syrupy sludge.
“No. This is how it went.” The other self replied, and they both looked back at the scene. There were shadows seated at the table, grinning, glowing eyed and monstrous, not human.
“That’s not right.” The dreamer protested. “It went the other way.”
“You’re only remembering the surface of things.” The other replied. “The things that don’t matter.”
The dreamer was seated on a brilliant white terrace. It was a stunning view, a white beach and blue ocean below, white marble benches-but he was cross-legged on the floor, and the other sat across from him. The dreamer’s clothes were rough cotton, ill-fitting and loose. They were playing cards. The backs of the cards were decorated in purple butterflies.
“And how do you figure your version is more accurate than mine?” The dreamer asked, taking his cigarette from his mouth, not dwelling on how it had appeared in the first place. He picked up his hand and re-arranged it. They were oddly decorated, but it was a good hand. Ace of clubs. King of hearts, a white haired clown with a strange mask and crown. Queen of hearts, a pretty Asian girl, but she was crying. Jack of clubs, a redhead with a big hammer and an eyepatch. The last card was the Joker, a fat grinning man with an umbrella. “Hey.” The dreamer protested. “You left the Joker in the deck.”
“Ah.” The other replied. “Wildcard.”
The dreamer looked back at his hand, but it had changed. He held the ace of spades, the king of spades was the same fat man that’d been on the Joker. The queen of hearts was now the little girl from the black room, striped stockings and licking a lollipop. The jack of spades was a man with a monocle and long hair. The Joker was the same as the king of hearts, the white clown.
“What’s with this deck?” The dreamer protested. “Are you trying to cheat?”
“I told you, you aren’t remembering things clearly.” The other said, sounding annoyed, there was something savage in its voice. Had it been there in the black room? Instead of being frightened, the dreamer felt excited. “You stick to places like this too often.” It gestured at the sunny terrace around them.
“I like it here.” The dreamer replied lazily, tilting his head back to soak up the sun. “I have friends, you know. They should be along some time.”
“Have you forgotten there’s a job to do? ♥”
The dreamer looked down from the ceiling of the black room, decorated as it was with the grinning crescent moon, into an empty face topped by a tall top hat. The face reminded him of the black moon. “No. I was just daydreaming.”
“Take care of them for me.” The man said, and a rush of excitement filled him. He looked at his hands where the cards hard turned to the purple butterflies on the backs-or maybe the purple butterflies had just been cards, for the game.
“Sounds interesting.” He agreed, standing. He knocked the wine over, watched the dark liquid stain the floor and followed it with his eyes to the corpse. The butterflies fell all around, turning back into cards. He picked one up, out of the black liquid, looked at the blank white card-no, it was the king of hearts, the red K and heart symbols in the corners remained.
“Aren’t you going to--?” The other asked, voice thick with excitement.
“No. When they die it’s not fun any more.”
“No.” The other agreed, lust still deepening his voice. The dreamer dropped the card on the corpse-but the cards and body dissolved once more into butterflies. “There’s no pleasure in a corpse.” They were both silent, a moment. “Won’t your friends be arriving soon? You should put that away.”
The dreamer looking down, realizing he held something silver in his palm. For a moment he felt his blood hot, rushed and excited, and his fingers closed over the glinting object. Darkness filled his mind and vision, and someone was screaming-or he was laughing. Maybe both. It passed, and he relaxed. Ocean winds swept through his hair and the roaring of bloodlust in his ears was just roar of the surf below. The sun shone hot and good on his skin.
“Come eat, or we won’t save any for you.” A young boy’s voice called. He didn’t turn around, but he smiled.
“You wouldn’t let your dear friend starve, would you? Hey, I found a treasure for you.” The dreamer and the other spoke as one, but then, they were the same, after all. The other was just the shadow that stretched behind him in the bright sun.
“Really? Silver?” The boy’s voice was excited, and he turned to look at the child, tossed the object to the kid, grinning, comfortable, watching it glitter silver in the light.
“Only the best. I went to some trouble for that, keep it safe.” The boy caught the silver thing, looked at it, then reached for the dreamer. The dreamer took his hand, was pulled along.
“Only the best.” His shadow whispered, as he walked beside his friend in the sunlight.
“I’m glad you saw fit to join us. ♥” The man said, across the room.
“It’s so nice when the family gets together. ♪” The little girl commented.
“We had better have sweet cake.” The rough voice of another man interjected.
“No no, you’re remembering it wrong.” That was his voice, but when he looked there he was, sitting next to himself, his skin was as black as the room-no wait, now the room was lit by candles, and it had color. The walls remained black, but he could make out a pattern of stars on the wallpaper, black on black. His double didn’t change.
“Of course it went like that.” The dreamer argued, looking at the wine-it was still black, coating the edges of the glass in a thick, syrupy sludge.
“No. This is how it went.” The other self replied, and they both looked back at the scene. There were shadows seated at the table, grinning, glowing eyed and monstrous, not human.
“That’s not right.” The dreamer protested. “It went the other way.”
“You’re only remembering the surface of things.” The other replied. “The things that don’t matter.”
The dreamer was seated on a brilliant white terrace. It was a stunning view, a white beach and blue ocean below, white marble benches-but he was cross-legged on the floor, and the other sat across from him. The dreamer’s clothes were rough cotton, ill-fitting and loose. They were playing cards. The backs of the cards were decorated in purple butterflies.
“And how do you figure your version is more accurate than mine?” The dreamer asked, taking his cigarette from his mouth, not dwelling on how it had appeared in the first place. He picked up his hand and re-arranged it. They were oddly decorated, but it was a good hand. Ace of clubs. King of hearts, a white haired clown with a strange mask and crown. Queen of hearts, a pretty Asian girl, but she was crying. Jack of clubs, a redhead with a big hammer and an eyepatch. The last card was the Joker, a fat grinning man with an umbrella. “Hey.” The dreamer protested. “You left the Joker in the deck.”
“Ah.” The other replied. “Wildcard.”
The dreamer looked back at his hand, but it had changed. He held the ace of spades, the king of spades was the same fat man that’d been on the Joker. The queen of hearts was now the little girl from the black room, striped stockings and licking a lollipop. The jack of spades was a man with a monocle and long hair. The Joker was the same as the king of hearts, the white clown.
“What’s with this deck?” The dreamer protested. “Are you trying to cheat?”
“I told you, you aren’t remembering things clearly.” The other said, sounding annoyed, there was something savage in its voice. Had it been there in the black room? Instead of being frightened, the dreamer felt excited. “You stick to places like this too often.” It gestured at the sunny terrace around them.
“I like it here.” The dreamer replied lazily, tilting his head back to soak up the sun. “I have friends, you know. They should be along some time.”
“Have you forgotten there’s a job to do? ♥”
The dreamer looked down from the ceiling of the black room, decorated as it was with the grinning crescent moon, into an empty face topped by a tall top hat. The face reminded him of the black moon. “No. I was just daydreaming.”
“Take care of them for me.” The man said, and a rush of excitement filled him. He looked at his hands where the cards hard turned to the purple butterflies on the backs-or maybe the purple butterflies had just been cards, for the game.
“Sounds interesting.” He agreed, standing. He knocked the wine over, watched the dark liquid stain the floor and followed it with his eyes to the corpse. The butterflies fell all around, turning back into cards. He picked one up, out of the black liquid, looked at the blank white card-no, it was the king of hearts, the red K and heart symbols in the corners remained.
“Aren’t you going to--?” The other asked, voice thick with excitement.
“No. When they die it’s not fun any more.”
“No.” The other agreed, lust still deepening his voice. The dreamer dropped the card on the corpse-but the cards and body dissolved once more into butterflies. “There’s no pleasure in a corpse.” They were both silent, a moment. “Won’t your friends be arriving soon? You should put that away.”
The dreamer looking down, realizing he held something silver in his palm. For a moment he felt his blood hot, rushed and excited, and his fingers closed over the glinting object. Darkness filled his mind and vision, and someone was screaming-or he was laughing. Maybe both. It passed, and he relaxed. Ocean winds swept through his hair and the roaring of bloodlust in his ears was just roar of the surf below. The sun shone hot and good on his skin.
“Come eat, or we won’t save any for you.” A young boy’s voice called. He didn’t turn around, but he smiled.
“You wouldn’t let your dear friend starve, would you? Hey, I found a treasure for you.” The dreamer and the other spoke as one, but then, they were the same, after all. The other was just the shadow that stretched behind him in the bright sun.
“Really? Silver?” The boy’s voice was excited, and he turned to look at the child, tossed the object to the kid, grinning, comfortable, watching it glitter silver in the light.
“Only the best. I went to some trouble for that, keep it safe.” The boy caught the silver thing, looked at it, then reached for the dreamer. The dreamer took his hand, was pulled along.
“Only the best.” His shadow whispered, as he walked beside his friend in the sunlight.