The following is a bit of alternative fiction based on certain characters from the Xenaverse. It is not meant to infringe on anyone else's rights.
I believe that there are at least three kinds of dreams, though there's probably more, (Okay, at least four) that are part of the human experience. The first kind is the one where the mind is working its shit out. It's those weird ones with only the barest thread of continuity and common sense. It's the one that's made up primarily of the symbols that make up a person's reality and you can run your mental fingers through it later to pick out the details and go, "OH, Yeah, I was dreaming about my job and how I feel about *him* (snarl!)."
Then there is the history review. where time doesn't have any meaning other than to tell us something, either from future or past or present. It's intuitive dreaming, where you get the notion to "SELL that stock," or "Unkle Henry's bought the ticket," or you get the numbers to the lottery. Or it's the refresher course, "remember that past life when you (or maybe a close friend who's sharing the jungian consciousness with you) were part of a tribe from Africa. You had an affair with the cheif's daughter and he hunted you down. Do you remember why? Don't make that mistake again...."
Then there are the world walking ones.
We all have them. All of us. It's part of what we signed up for, the fine tuning of our realities. In the world walking ones, we Sometimes just do it to take a bit of a vacation. We go visit friends on other planes, or visit some world where things are "different," just to give ourselves a respite or provide a different bit of input. Sometimes we visit our heroes, and sometimes we just hang out in our frontroom where we can watch tv while we sleep.
Other times...other times it's the point of transition. We switch from one world, to a totally different one, all in the space of a dream.
When we first enter the game of life, we meet up with whoever, and have a little chat. We say, Hey I want a romance in my life, and so the plot hooks us up with some bumbling well meaning fool, and we get the romance. Then we come back and say, "No, I meant true love," and we get hooked up in a plot that spans several lifetimes (sometimes within one lifetime) and eventually we end up with someone who makes our world turn and we say, "No, I meant *TRUE* love" and we spend several years and end up as part of a "TRUE" love couple (or multiple), or as Ghandi, depending on what you meant. Or we may be a funloving game player and say, "give me something different," and BOY is *our* life different. That's just in the preview.
But we can change things in the now that we're at. We can decide, during our lifespan that a romance with the "jerk," wasn't what we really wanted. So we go to sleep one night, and we either wake up and the jerk has changed, or we wake up and circumstances have changed just enough that we can boot the guy or we wake up and he's asked for a divorce from out of nowhere and we sit there and wonder why all the sudden he hates us. (That's when you know you've totally switched worlds and you're dealing with "the stranger," rather than the guy you married.) Or we wake up and we've changed our minds again because of some high symbology dream that tells us how much we're valuing this experience right now and your in love again.
Sometimes the changes produced by world walking can be ferocious. You know, like when you switch over to a new job. Suddenly your life path is set differently, and weird things happen to accomodate, or it just opens up the opportunity. Sometimes it's as simple as saying, "I'm ready for something different now," on a particularly hectic day. So the fates,god, or gods provide something different for you to play with. But they have a sense of humor, you know. You gotta watch what your asking for...
We're just playing along, acting dumb like everyone else. But we all do this and we know it on some level. Usually it's in mild ways, held in those day to day decisions and surprises. I call them universe change days. You know, when you could have sworn you bought bacon, but somehow you have sausage in your refrigerator. Or, you could have sworn that was a autoshop, but it's turned into a car dealership. Or you get some weird phone call asking for seargeant "your first and last name" and you *know* you've never been in any sort of army, Ever. Or at least, you weren't in the world you were on before. That's when you know you're playing with yourself and maybe with your friends or lovers who might have hopped on for the ride.
But we set the knowledge aside, and say, "Whoops, must have been dreaming," and keep playing the game straight as if those odd little moments hadn't happened. If you remember them, your life is never boring, but you always wonder just where you are..and you play along, just to see how far things go until the world changes again.
The most fun are the waking dreams, the one's where the universe changes, not overnight, but while you were minding your own business and you hadn't even asked for it, yet. Sometimes it happens and you're really really glad (HEY I won the Lottery!!) other times...
I stood deep among old-growths, cool moss under my bare feet and a warm breeze tickled my skin. All over. When I briefly looked down at myself I realized that I was jaybird to the heels, as Mr. Robert Heinlein would say. I didn't have time to contemplate my nudity, but my mind's eye registered Hecete's web, which now covered my right shoulder and upper arm. I lifted my hands, knowing that the fingers of my left hand sported the four sigils of my Goddesses. Artemis' arrows, Aphrodite's hearts, Nemisis' whip, and Athena's spear. I just had to see the Marks left of our communion to confirm the evidence of my senses.
I was ...my other self again, Brigid. I felt more like Bernie than I remembered feeling as Brigid, but I recognized my form and I felt memories of my life (in all it's grand hot fantasy soap opera) cascading down my soul, quenching those questions I hadn't even thought to ask. I stood taller than as Bernie. I was more muscular and sleeker. The stretch marks of my life as Bernie were gone. My skin held the sun's mark to replace them. The almost pearl white of being an indoor type had disappeared.
I suppose if I'd had time, I would have been surprised, maybe even happy. But the high loud sounds of feet trammeling, war cry yodels, and the loud vicious warlike clang of metal upon metal disrupted my speculations and replaced those thoughts with an urgent need to escape. Or at least find a way to stay out of the way of what sounded like an obvious clash of armies.
I had no weapons, other than my body, with which to meet the new challenge. So my next course of action seemed like a logical one to me.
I picked my feet up and ran, pacing the woods towards the direction of the warlike sounds. I figured, if I could see the armies, without them seeing me (of course) then I might have a chance at figuring out where I was and I might then determine the best direction to head.
I felt the way the floor of the forest moved under me. It was surreal. Either I was moving around it, or it was moving around me, or we were both so interconnected it didn't matter. I felt around for Gaia and found....silence.
Everything was suddenly vibrantly silent.
Not even the birds were singing.
A leaf twitched at my thigh and I looked to my right, past verdant bush and into the wooded grove where people had been sacrificing their lives in battle.
I saw them, chests heaving with effort to breathe. Their faces and bodies were wild and painted. The bloody axes in their hands reminded me of one I'd taken in the back so long ago. Did I even have the scar anymore?
I couldn't remember.
Their adversaries, swords bloody and garments streaked with mud glared back with bitter ferocity. They panted their own sweat and brawny arms lifted in challenge.
All it would take was a single sound to set them off again.
I held as still as possible, sifting the wind for anything that might tell me what was going on. All I smelled was blood and sweat and the deep heavy scent of jungle foliage.
It wasn't me who snapped the twig.
With a mighty cry these two forces rushed at each other past treetrunks, ruined marble columns and through blooded water. There was, steam ....rising from the ground..morning. It was morning here..and it was going to be a hot one. They weren't taking the time to figure the weather though. I was turning, done with my spying, when a multitude of large beefy hands descended upon me and dragged me away.
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This page was last updated: August 29, 1998
ŠAugust 1998
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