Dream Log
I learned how to do embedded left join selects inside mysql insert statements today, ooOOoo. :p Finally getting one of my tasks completely resolved though, which is a relief.
Had one of those crazy ass story-dreams on Sunday night. I wrote down as much as I could remember immediately after I woke up.
The first part was scary.
The time period was indeterminate, but fashion seemed very 1890s. I was some sort of Gibson Girl -looking woman, travelling with a group of other women. We were staying at a single-story bed and breakfast for the night, and I'd gone to the room of one of my travel-mates for a late chat. She wanted to show me something.
She started chanting eerily, staring out the window. I turned around and stared, too. Vaguely seen through thick fog, someone was approaching the building. As the figure got closer, I noticed that it wasn't walking-- it was floating. Pasty blue and white skin; black, high-collared dress hanging in tatters that swirled slowly as the banshee glided through the mist. Its clawed hands reached for me.
It was coming for me.
I spun around to warn my friend, but realization came quickly. She had summoned the thing. As she continued to chant, the edges of her mouth seemed to twist upwards in a most unfriendly smile.
I fled the room and ran down the hall. At the far end, I tried to open a door, but it was locked. I pounded on it furiously until someone answered. It was the maid of another of my friends, holding a glowing lantern. Gasping to catch my breath, I tried to explain what was happening. The woman cocked her head and looked at me strangely. I got the impression that I wasn't making any sense. I started over, choosing my words carefully. It didn't seem to help. As she backed away, trying to push the heavy door shut, I found myself wondering if English was coming out of my mouth. Was something interfering? Was I speaking gibberish?
Before the maid could get the door closed all the way, my friend appeared behind behind her in the doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily. I sighed in relief and tried again. She blinked at me, confused. Damn! In desperation, I screamed, "You have to help me! Please help me! PLEASE HELP ME!"
As far as I could tell, they hadn't even noticed that I'd raised my voice. I grabbed my friend's hand tightly and tried to communicate the urgency of the situation through the intensity of my grip. She looked closely at me for a second. But the moment passed and she pulled away. She patted me on the shoulder and suggested I'd feel better in the morning after a full night's rest.
It was hopeless.
And then, all of a sudden, I was someone else. Something else. A wolf.
A woman in the shape of a wolf.
I'd chosen the form so I could cover a large distance with long, loping strides. I was on my way to save her.
And I was being chased.
Huge, sinewy muscles bunching and stretching in an awesome display of physical strength, an enormous mastiff was catching up to me. Running a ways behind him was a tall, thin man with a rifle.
I stopped abruptly, turned, and assumed human guise, shaking long red hair out of my face. The man didn't look the least bit surprised. He'd known. That's why he was hunting me. But I didn't have time for this nonsense.
"I'd like to see you follow me now, mister."
Before the mastiff could pounce, I was a hawk, soaring into the sky. The man dropped to one knee and hurriedly took aim, but I was already outside his range. In large spirals, I strained higher and higher, wings outstretched, banking and dipping on fresh breezes over a vast green forest.
I could sense the man and his dog in the woods below, trying to track my flight path. After a short distance, I sensed something else. Something very, very old. But benign. And... trapped? I landed to check it out. Mindful of the dangers I'd left not too far behind, I chose a form I felt would maneuver well through tangled underbrush: a fox. I'd almost considered a squirrel, but no. Too small, too slow.
As soon as I'd changed, I unexpectedly found myself fully human again-- two humans, actually. An adult and a child. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I instructed the child-me to look for the source of the spirit-feel. I was in the middle of a fiercly whispered lecture about the importance of hiding any discovery from the rifle man when the source chose to make itself known to us. A massive branch directly overhead shuddered powerfully, showering us with leaves and what looked like large apples. I ran my eyes over the rough bark of the trunk, scrutinizing patterns of whorls and cracks. There was a face! A slow, deep voice boomed from the tree.
"Ahhh... the Golden Girl... It's been so long... See how time has changed us..."
I had no idea what it was talking about, but the child version of me did, and started whining about scars. I was mortified, embarrassed, and tried to shush her.
---
I never did get a chance to finish that conversation, or save the Gibson Girl, because I woke up. D'oh.
Had one of those crazy ass story-dreams on Sunday night. I wrote down as much as I could remember immediately after I woke up.
The first part was scary.
The time period was indeterminate, but fashion seemed very 1890s. I was some sort of Gibson Girl -looking woman, travelling with a group of other women. We were staying at a single-story bed and breakfast for the night, and I'd gone to the room of one of my travel-mates for a late chat. She wanted to show me something.
She started chanting eerily, staring out the window. I turned around and stared, too. Vaguely seen through thick fog, someone was approaching the building. As the figure got closer, I noticed that it wasn't walking-- it was floating. Pasty blue and white skin; black, high-collared dress hanging in tatters that swirled slowly as the banshee glided through the mist. Its clawed hands reached for me.
It was coming for me.
I spun around to warn my friend, but realization came quickly. She had summoned the thing. As she continued to chant, the edges of her mouth seemed to twist upwards in a most unfriendly smile.
I fled the room and ran down the hall. At the far end, I tried to open a door, but it was locked. I pounded on it furiously until someone answered. It was the maid of another of my friends, holding a glowing lantern. Gasping to catch my breath, I tried to explain what was happening. The woman cocked her head and looked at me strangely. I got the impression that I wasn't making any sense. I started over, choosing my words carefully. It didn't seem to help. As she backed away, trying to push the heavy door shut, I found myself wondering if English was coming out of my mouth. Was something interfering? Was I speaking gibberish?
Before the maid could get the door closed all the way, my friend appeared behind behind her in the doorway, rubbing her eyes sleepily. I sighed in relief and tried again. She blinked at me, confused. Damn! In desperation, I screamed, "You have to help me! Please help me! PLEASE HELP ME!"
As far as I could tell, they hadn't even noticed that I'd raised my voice. I grabbed my friend's hand tightly and tried to communicate the urgency of the situation through the intensity of my grip. She looked closely at me for a second. But the moment passed and she pulled away. She patted me on the shoulder and suggested I'd feel better in the morning after a full night's rest.
It was hopeless.
And then, all of a sudden, I was someone else. Something else. A wolf.
A woman in the shape of a wolf.
I'd chosen the form so I could cover a large distance with long, loping strides. I was on my way to save her.
And I was being chased.
Huge, sinewy muscles bunching and stretching in an awesome display of physical strength, an enormous mastiff was catching up to me. Running a ways behind him was a tall, thin man with a rifle.
I stopped abruptly, turned, and assumed human guise, shaking long red hair out of my face. The man didn't look the least bit surprised. He'd known. That's why he was hunting me. But I didn't have time for this nonsense.
"I'd like to see you follow me now, mister."
Before the mastiff could pounce, I was a hawk, soaring into the sky. The man dropped to one knee and hurriedly took aim, but I was already outside his range. In large spirals, I strained higher and higher, wings outstretched, banking and dipping on fresh breezes over a vast green forest.
I could sense the man and his dog in the woods below, trying to track my flight path. After a short distance, I sensed something else. Something very, very old. But benign. And... trapped? I landed to check it out. Mindful of the dangers I'd left not too far behind, I chose a form I felt would maneuver well through tangled underbrush: a fox. I'd almost considered a squirrel, but no. Too small, too slow.
As soon as I'd changed, I unexpectedly found myself fully human again-- two humans, actually. An adult and a child. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I instructed the child-me to look for the source of the spirit-feel. I was in the middle of a fiercly whispered lecture about the importance of hiding any discovery from the rifle man when the source chose to make itself known to us. A massive branch directly overhead shuddered powerfully, showering us with leaves and what looked like large apples. I ran my eyes over the rough bark of the trunk, scrutinizing patterns of whorls and cracks. There was a face! A slow, deep voice boomed from the tree.
"Ahhh... the Golden Girl... It's been so long... See how time has changed us..."
I had no idea what it was talking about, but the child version of me did, and started whining about scars. I was mortified, embarrassed, and tried to shush her.
---
I never did get a chance to finish that conversation, or save the Gibson Girl, because I woke up. D'oh.