Dream: One Building Over
Wednesday morning:
A Hmong teenager let me in the building after-hours, since he was heading that way. We walked through to the adjoining building where his older brother worked nights. The two of them were about to see a movie, but the brother had to let some people into that building; he got an extra $10 for it and nobody ever noticed.
Those people turned out to be some of sinister_dr_x's friends--Sam Cooper, xcorvis, someone tall enough to be elfdope, and a couple others. I said hello and followed them to sinister_dr_x's office. It was a wide room, maybe 40 feet, and about half that front to back; more of a conference room, really. The lights were on, but it looked empty.
A long table surrounded by chairs filled one end, watching a pair of those big freestanding chalkboards, the green ones that flip over and have more chalkboard on the back. The other end held the usual computer desk plus a few posh chairs; a leather sofa lay in the center, facing away from the door. The front wall didn't cover the whole room; the ends were open to the main office space (a cube farm), but they'd been blocked by eight-foot office dividers. Bulletin boards and spare dividers completely covered the back wall.
xcorvis stretched out on the sofa, elfdope stood behind, and I took a chair by the desk. Scooper was looking around behind the table when sinister_dr_x walked out from behind a chalkboard. He stood with a distracted half-grin, and conversations began. I kept quiet at first; I wasn't sure what their plan was, and I'd accidentally crashed anyhow. When I tuned in a bit later, sinister_dr_x was saying something about swimming.
"We're going to an island for New Year's Eve. You should come too," he said, glancing at me, "if you'd be interested."
Flash-Forward:
The moon shone brightly from a clear sky as our Speed boat skimmed across the ocean. I sat near the back, xcorvis and Scooper chatted in the middle. The island looked warm. Lithe trees with exotic leaves sprang from red clay beaches, rustling quietly in the night breeze. Red and blue lights winked across the waves from behind us. Carl Lumbly looked over his shoulder from his seat on the starboard rail.
"Flashing lights has to be harbor patrol," he said, "and that means life jackets. Make sure you get the bottom clasp, too."
We were almost to the dock, where beltramgregor was helping sinister_dr_x unload the other boat. It was too early in the evening for trouble, though, so we all retied our life jackets. Scooper hadn't bothered before, so he looked in the cupboards for a spare.
"You should see this," sinister_dr_x said. He wheeled a chalkboard aside. "I found it a few days ago." He grabbed a spare divider along the back wall and angled it into the room, revealing a rough hole through the brick wall behind it. The bulletin board on the other side bent away as he stepped through, and we followed him into another office.
"Whose room is this?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," sinister_dr_x answered. "It's not our building." We sat in the plush executive chairs around a conference table, surrounded by mauve office dividers.
A long sampan crawled back to harbor. The Greek woman crept over the stern. One hand unfastened the knot on a yardarm while the other held her sword at the ready. A Chinese peasant (played by a very Anglo British fellow with a mullet) looked back at her with a start. He approached quickly, shouting incomprehensibly about the knot. She freed the rope with a final tug and spun in place, slashing blindly across his chest before her heel broke his jaw. The peasant slumped over the rail. The other operative behind her grunted dubiously, taking aim at the peasant's wife on the prow.
You got to get behind the mule... in the morning and plow. (Lyrics looped through my head, made it hard to think.) I wasn't actually there, but I disapproved of their methods. The peasants were only trying to make a living. (Big Jack Earl was eight-foot-one, stood in the road and he cried.) I didn't think it was right to fish (he couldn't make her love him,) or harvest (he couldn't make her stay)... whatever they were doing--bad for the environment--but I wouldn't kill them to stop it. It doesn't make any sense. (Tell the good Lord that he tried. You gotta get behind the mule...)
Pale morning sunlight filled the kitchen of the house where I grew up. (...pin your eye to the line.) It was crowded, but that seemed normal. Matt Ebel (a friend I haven't seen since Junior High) fidgeted by the stove. Katie leaned in the doorway, chatting with xcorvis. I recounted my dream about the sampan. (Never let the weeds get higher than the garden...)
"Probably because Cam invited me to the swimming thing," I said. "I can't wait for tonight." (Always keep a sapphire... in your mind.)
gnfnrf checked his palm pilot, then asked if I had his other stylus. I told him I didn't. I was writing in my Palm datebook. Without looking up, I said, "I'm using one, and Matt here just took my spare."
Matt had been using my spare stylus to poke around the insides of the oven, He set it back in the ergonomic depression of the chrome oven handle, which was attached to the left side of my Palm to hold spare styli. (...tell the good Lord that he tried.)
"Tell them I wrote that," Tom Waits said. "They'll think you wrote it, unless you mention me first."
"They will not," I told him.
"Tell them it's mine. That's my song," he insisted.
Someone said New Year's Eve was on Friday. (I wasn't expecting it so soon, since it was summer, but I also thought it was today.) gnfnrf pointed out it was Wednesday, which meant I had two more days of school. I wasn't sure I could take it. (You got to get behind the mule....)
I wandered around my old Junior High--a memory, I think--and discovered the basketball hoop in front of the building. (...in the morning and plow.) I'd been there a year and hadn't noticed it. That whole area was pretty ugly, though; the new blacktop was mica-sparkly and sticky as a rice crispy bar.
A Hmong teenager let me in the building after-hours, since he was heading that way. We walked through to the adjoining building where his older brother worked nights. The two of them were about to see a movie, but the brother had to let some people into that building; he got an extra $10 for it and nobody ever noticed.
Those people turned out to be some of sinister_dr_x's friends--Sam Cooper, xcorvis, someone tall enough to be elfdope, and a couple others. I said hello and followed them to sinister_dr_x's office. It was a wide room, maybe 40 feet, and about half that front to back; more of a conference room, really. The lights were on, but it looked empty.
A long table surrounded by chairs filled one end, watching a pair of those big freestanding chalkboards, the green ones that flip over and have more chalkboard on the back. The other end held the usual computer desk plus a few posh chairs; a leather sofa lay in the center, facing away from the door. The front wall didn't cover the whole room; the ends were open to the main office space (a cube farm), but they'd been blocked by eight-foot office dividers. Bulletin boards and spare dividers completely covered the back wall.
xcorvis stretched out on the sofa, elfdope stood behind, and I took a chair by the desk. Scooper was looking around behind the table when sinister_dr_x walked out from behind a chalkboard. He stood with a distracted half-grin, and conversations began. I kept quiet at first; I wasn't sure what their plan was, and I'd accidentally crashed anyhow. When I tuned in a bit later, sinister_dr_x was saying something about swimming.
"We're going to an island for New Year's Eve. You should come too," he said, glancing at me, "if you'd be interested."
Flash-Forward:
The moon shone brightly from a clear sky as our Speed boat skimmed across the ocean. I sat near the back, xcorvis and Scooper chatted in the middle. The island looked warm. Lithe trees with exotic leaves sprang from red clay beaches, rustling quietly in the night breeze. Red and blue lights winked across the waves from behind us. Carl Lumbly looked over his shoulder from his seat on the starboard rail.
"Flashing lights has to be harbor patrol," he said, "and that means life jackets. Make sure you get the bottom clasp, too."
We were almost to the dock, where beltramgregor was helping sinister_dr_x unload the other boat. It was too early in the evening for trouble, though, so we all retied our life jackets. Scooper hadn't bothered before, so he looked in the cupboards for a spare.
"You should see this," sinister_dr_x said. He wheeled a chalkboard aside. "I found it a few days ago." He grabbed a spare divider along the back wall and angled it into the room, revealing a rough hole through the brick wall behind it. The bulletin board on the other side bent away as he stepped through, and we followed him into another office.
"Whose room is this?" Sam asked.
"I don't know," sinister_dr_x answered. "It's not our building." We sat in the plush executive chairs around a conference table, surrounded by mauve office dividers.
A long sampan crawled back to harbor. The Greek woman crept over the stern. One hand unfastened the knot on a yardarm while the other held her sword at the ready. A Chinese peasant (played by a very Anglo British fellow with a mullet) looked back at her with a start. He approached quickly, shouting incomprehensibly about the knot. She freed the rope with a final tug and spun in place, slashing blindly across his chest before her heel broke his jaw. The peasant slumped over the rail. The other operative behind her grunted dubiously, taking aim at the peasant's wife on the prow.
You got to get behind the mule... in the morning and plow. (Lyrics looped through my head, made it hard to think.) I wasn't actually there, but I disapproved of their methods. The peasants were only trying to make a living. (Big Jack Earl was eight-foot-one, stood in the road and he cried.) I didn't think it was right to fish (he couldn't make her love him,) or harvest (he couldn't make her stay)... whatever they were doing--bad for the environment--but I wouldn't kill them to stop it. It doesn't make any sense. (Tell the good Lord that he tried. You gotta get behind the mule...)
Pale morning sunlight filled the kitchen of the house where I grew up. (...pin your eye to the line.) It was crowded, but that seemed normal. Matt Ebel (a friend I haven't seen since Junior High) fidgeted by the stove. Katie leaned in the doorway, chatting with xcorvis. I recounted my dream about the sampan. (Never let the weeds get higher than the garden...)
"Probably because Cam invited me to the swimming thing," I said. "I can't wait for tonight." (Always keep a sapphire... in your mind.)
gnfnrf checked his palm pilot, then asked if I had his other stylus. I told him I didn't. I was writing in my Palm datebook. Without looking up, I said, "I'm using one, and Matt here just took my spare."
Matt had been using my spare stylus to poke around the insides of the oven, He set it back in the ergonomic depression of the chrome oven handle, which was attached to the left side of my Palm to hold spare styli. (...tell the good Lord that he tried.)
"Tell them I wrote that," Tom Waits said. "They'll think you wrote it, unless you mention me first."
"They will not," I told him.
"Tell them it's mine. That's my song," he insisted.
Someone said New Year's Eve was on Friday. (I wasn't expecting it so soon, since it was summer, but I also thought it was today.) gnfnrf pointed out it was Wednesday, which meant I had two more days of school. I wasn't sure I could take it. (You got to get behind the mule....)
I wandered around my old Junior High--a memory, I think--and discovered the basketball hoop in front of the building. (...in the morning and plow.) I'd been there a year and hadn't noticed it. That whole area was pretty ugly, though; the new blacktop was mica-sparkly and sticky as a rice crispy bar.