Dream: The Moth Menace
Tuesday, May 19th:
I raced into my friend's house in the middle of the night. I ran to the balcony and latched the double doors only seconds before the giant moth pressed against their windows, pale green eyes the size of grapefruits bathing me in their malefic glow. A pair of golden eyes appeared reflected in the window as xcorvis's little black cat jingled up behind me, holding it at bay.
I opened the door to the master bedroom and ran inside, leaping and stumbling over unseen footstools. My friends' parents slept in the bed, and I couldn't let them find out what was going on. I found their vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room; I wrenched free the long handle of the upright and one of the attachments, fitting them together as I returned to the living room.
I brandished my makeshift weapon at the unwholesome insect on the balcony and the cat fixed the monster in her amber stare. The moth fluttered for a moment, then disappeared into the night. Before I could catch my breath, it reappeared high above us, tan wings the size of elephants beating against the glass ceiling of the second-floor living room.
I aimed the handle up at the beast, but realized it wouldn't be enough. I ran back to the master bedroom as the heavy wings slammed against the giant skylight. Shattered glass rained down behind me, oddly silent. I secured the door to the bedroom as the parents stirred, then raced out the other side into the hallway. I could tell my friends about it, at least; maybe together we could stop it.
Which room is which? I opened a door and stepped inside; Kayla sat up in her bed. I told her about the monster, and she started gathering the things we would need. A sleepy sunrise crept through the window, and I barely heard her parents stirring before her father walked in. [At this point in the dream, played by Larry, Alison's dad, who is much scarier than Don and never seemed to like me... or anyone else to my knowledge.]
Suddenly the scene changed around us; everyone stood in the same positions in Larry's kitchen. I could see the activity behind his eyes. What was I doing in your underage daughter's bedroom at five in the morning? I imagined myself saying. I was...
"I was just returning your vacuum cleaner, sir," I said cheerfully, fitting the handle and attachment back on to the conveniently-present appliance. "Sorry to have woken you; I wanted to get it back before you'd miss it for the Monday cleaning."
He scowled skeptically until Cassy (Alison's sister, his actual youngest daughter) played along. "How'd it work out for you," she bubbled conspiratorially.
"Oh, it was great," I gushed at Larry. 'So much better than the XJ-250 or the Electrolux Vizier.'
He swelled a bit with pride as I lured him into a discussion of the machine's merits.
xcorvis made French fries by the sink while we talked, using the worst-imaginable gadget designed for that purpose. Char, congealed grease, and clumps of salt caked half-cooked potatos that he tried to force through a bladed attachment. I said my goodbyes while Larry lambasted xcorvis's failure with Larry's ridiculous kitchen tool. xcorvis persevered, unflappable as always.
I walked through a door from an underground parking garage into the front offices of a dentist and an auto mechanic, the wide front desk split down the middle and staffed by one receptionist for each business. Alyssa had just climbed the stairs from the garage to the surface, leaving me to pick up the van. She'd left a message for the mechanic asking him to clean the green paint scuffs from her blue Town & Country, but he misunderstood and checked for damage to the spare tire on my Gran Prix instead. I called Alyssa to explain.
Don, Sue, Kayla, and Jenna walked out the dentist's office, their business concluded. I traded subtle glances with the girls as they crossed the underground parking lot. It is close. It will be here soon. Be ready. Don and Sue got into the dark brown sedan on the right side. Kayla sat in back, her left wrist in a cast. She leaned forward and whispered to her sister. They could feel the dark figures growing from the shadows of the pillars behind them. Jenna nodded, buckling her belt and checking the mirror as if nothing was the matter. She shifted into reverse, then stomped on the gas, aiming her tail lights at the moth's umbral minions.
Meanwhile, I joined Alyssa and musicin68 in the surface lot, standing beside my Gran Prix. Across the street, a shipping container full of mail parachuted from a cargo jet, landing on the tarmac between the hangars and the chain-link fence. The stubby jet looked like it didn't belong in the air, sort of like a bumblebee. It resembled a shortened C-130, but its wings were as long as the whole body and barely as wide, and the wings were made of nothing but those boxy engine-intake ramps on the Concorde. It was the sort of plane you could easily model with Duplo bricks.
Overhead, the jet slowed and stalled in a steep climb, then fired its jets in the other direction, repeating the curve of its ascent in reverse as it fell. It began ascending in reverse, stalled, then changed directions again, repeating the maneuver a dozen times, falling to earth like a sheet of paper on its sawtooth-curved descent.
We all cheered, jumping and shouting, when the jet landed and the pilot climbed out. He gave as an absent wave and walked to the hangar.
The scraggly auto mechanic came up the steps and started talking, so I moved to intercept him. I dealt with him quickly; I could tell something was afoot. He returned to the garage, and I went back to the car. Alyssa and musicin68 had crammed themselves into the front passenger seatthe only safe place in the vehicle, for some reasonpreparing to make their escape. They seemed to have it under control until they realized they had to make room for me.
They gestured me inside, so I contorted my way into the empty spaces, sprawled and twisted across their laps, a tangle of embarrassed giggles as we tried to pretend we were this familiar with one another. I ended up not really sitting on anything, pinned between unidentifiable soft curves and the unyielding angles of the dash and windshield, staring at the glovebox. None of us could breathe very much, and my sandled feet hung out the open door, but there was nothing we could do about it, and it was really the least of our problems.
Craning her head around and stretching her legs across to the pedals, Alyssa started the car in reverse and built up speed, peering out the rear window through the gap in the headrest. We sped along the asphalt past the row of hangars, tensed for moment that our enemies would emerge from their huge doors, hoping no children were playing in the lot.
I raced into my friend's house in the middle of the night. I ran to the balcony and latched the double doors only seconds before the giant moth pressed against their windows, pale green eyes the size of grapefruits bathing me in their malefic glow. A pair of golden eyes appeared reflected in the window as xcorvis's little black cat jingled up behind me, holding it at bay.
I opened the door to the master bedroom and ran inside, leaping and stumbling over unseen footstools. My friends' parents slept in the bed, and I couldn't let them find out what was going on. I found their vacuum cleaner in the middle of the room; I wrenched free the long handle of the upright and one of the attachments, fitting them together as I returned to the living room.
I brandished my makeshift weapon at the unwholesome insect on the balcony and the cat fixed the monster in her amber stare. The moth fluttered for a moment, then disappeared into the night. Before I could catch my breath, it reappeared high above us, tan wings the size of elephants beating against the glass ceiling of the second-floor living room.
I aimed the handle up at the beast, but realized it wouldn't be enough. I ran back to the master bedroom as the heavy wings slammed against the giant skylight. Shattered glass rained down behind me, oddly silent. I secured the door to the bedroom as the parents stirred, then raced out the other side into the hallway. I could tell my friends about it, at least; maybe together we could stop it.
Which room is which? I opened a door and stepped inside; Kayla sat up in her bed. I told her about the monster, and she started gathering the things we would need. A sleepy sunrise crept through the window, and I barely heard her parents stirring before her father walked in. [At this point in the dream, played by Larry, Alison's dad, who is much scarier than Don and never seemed to like me... or anyone else to my knowledge.]
Suddenly the scene changed around us; everyone stood in the same positions in Larry's kitchen. I could see the activity behind his eyes. What was I doing in your underage daughter's bedroom at five in the morning? I imagined myself saying. I was...
"I was just returning your vacuum cleaner, sir," I said cheerfully, fitting the handle and attachment back on to the conveniently-present appliance. "Sorry to have woken you; I wanted to get it back before you'd miss it for the Monday cleaning."
He scowled skeptically until Cassy (Alison's sister, his actual youngest daughter) played along. "How'd it work out for you," she bubbled conspiratorially.
"Oh, it was great," I gushed at Larry. 'So much better than the XJ-250 or the Electrolux Vizier.'
He swelled a bit with pride as I lured him into a discussion of the machine's merits.
xcorvis made French fries by the sink while we talked, using the worst-imaginable gadget designed for that purpose. Char, congealed grease, and clumps of salt caked half-cooked potatos that he tried to force through a bladed attachment. I said my goodbyes while Larry lambasted xcorvis's failure with Larry's ridiculous kitchen tool. xcorvis persevered, unflappable as always.
I walked through a door from an underground parking garage into the front offices of a dentist and an auto mechanic, the wide front desk split down the middle and staffed by one receptionist for each business. Alyssa had just climbed the stairs from the garage to the surface, leaving me to pick up the van. She'd left a message for the mechanic asking him to clean the green paint scuffs from her blue Town & Country, but he misunderstood and checked for damage to the spare tire on my Gran Prix instead. I called Alyssa to explain.
Don, Sue, Kayla, and Jenna walked out the dentist's office, their business concluded. I traded subtle glances with the girls as they crossed the underground parking lot. It is close. It will be here soon. Be ready. Don and Sue got into the dark brown sedan on the right side. Kayla sat in back, her left wrist in a cast. She leaned forward and whispered to her sister. They could feel the dark figures growing from the shadows of the pillars behind them. Jenna nodded, buckling her belt and checking the mirror as if nothing was the matter. She shifted into reverse, then stomped on the gas, aiming her tail lights at the moth's umbral minions.
Meanwhile, I joined Alyssa and musicin68 in the surface lot, standing beside my Gran Prix. Across the street, a shipping container full of mail parachuted from a cargo jet, landing on the tarmac between the hangars and the chain-link fence. The stubby jet looked like it didn't belong in the air, sort of like a bumblebee. It resembled a shortened C-130, but its wings were as long as the whole body and barely as wide, and the wings were made of nothing but those boxy engine-intake ramps on the Concorde. It was the sort of plane you could easily model with Duplo bricks.
Overhead, the jet slowed and stalled in a steep climb, then fired its jets in the other direction, repeating the curve of its ascent in reverse as it fell. It began ascending in reverse, stalled, then changed directions again, repeating the maneuver a dozen times, falling to earth like a sheet of paper on its sawtooth-curved descent.
We all cheered, jumping and shouting, when the jet landed and the pilot climbed out. He gave as an absent wave and walked to the hangar.
The scraggly auto mechanic came up the steps and started talking, so I moved to intercept him. I dealt with him quickly; I could tell something was afoot. He returned to the garage, and I went back to the car. Alyssa and musicin68 had crammed themselves into the front passenger seatthe only safe place in the vehicle, for some reasonpreparing to make their escape. They seemed to have it under control until they realized they had to make room for me.
They gestured me inside, so I contorted my way into the empty spaces, sprawled and twisted across their laps, a tangle of embarrassed giggles as we tried to pretend we were this familiar with one another. I ended up not really sitting on anything, pinned between unidentifiable soft curves and the unyielding angles of the dash and windshield, staring at the glovebox. None of us could breathe very much, and my sandled feet hung out the open door, but there was nothing we could do about it, and it was really the least of our problems.
Craning her head around and stretching her legs across to the pedals, Alyssa started the car in reverse and built up speed, peering out the rear window through the gap in the headrest. We sped along the asphalt past the row of hangars, tensed for moment that our enemies would emerge from their huge doors, hoping no children were playing in the lot.