Somnambulist

Running towards the mirage of revelation
The great puzzle lies neglected in the sand

Strange New School

Entering a well lighted warehouse type building I search for a bathroom. I find a bathroom open to the rest of a large room. I think warehouse because of all the exposed pipes and electrical cords. Since nobody is there I utilize the facilities. An attractive woman interrupts me by walking into the area. She has laundry and an area of the large open room set aside for her stuff. Her stuff includes a dresser, a bed, and not much else. Is this a cheap dormitory? Whatever it is I am embarrassed and wish to start over.

A friend picks me up at home. It is time to go to a new school. The dog is particularly full of energy. Deciding she will be fun we decide to take her along. I am not very concerned what my roommate, whose dog it is, will think. I sit passenger while my friend drives over highways. Neither of us is sure about the route to take since this is our first time making the trip. The highway has many different highways beside, above, and below all breaking away and coming back together in one great big jumble. It would be easy to get loss in this mess. Speeding along I am half afraid of finding our highway ending abruptly sending us hurtling to the ground and our deaths. The friend seems unconcerned and speeds full throttle. We miss a turn off and try to loop back around to make the correct path. My fears are realized and the elevated highway ends abruptly. Fortunately we fly through the air to land a short distance away on another highway.

I had no idea how to get to our new school but apparently my friend did for we arrive. Entering the full classroom we bring the dog in with us. She starts going beserk as if she needs to go outside to use the restroom. Being on the first floor I just crack a window to the outside and drop her through it. She lands safely. Finding a toy from somewhere she proceeds to throttle it with all her might. Growling and jumping she throws and shakes her head furiously trying to wring all the life out of her toy.

Something is wrong with this school. It is not right and the answer is locked away from prying eyes in the teachers desk. The friend I arrived with proceeds to act like a jerk to everybody. Trying to calm him down he grows more virulent, eventually flinging an antisemtic remark at me. Strange because I am not Jewish. Anyways, I will not share my riches with him.

Comic Book Mystery

A phone call from the military to investigate someone long dead. This was the second such phone call. This time an Andy Gonzales had died several decades ago under widely publicized mysterious circumstances. Possibly the name is misunderstood as two names and is really one.

. . .

A book being written. Do authors have special insight into the motivations of others? Am I Sherlock Holmes to solve these types of mysteries?

. . .

A girl is complaining about the unrealistic women in comic books. Several friends and I are outside a comic book convention. It is bright outside but no heat makes an impression. I formulate an explanation to her exclamation but am interrupted as something catches my eye.

A tall stately woman is seen walking down an intersection across our view from the right. The street we stand on is perpendicular to hers. The intersection has no traffic but a line of people stretching from the direction the woman walks. They all wait for entrance to the convention. Wearing a trench coat and sunglasses she still stands out. She is large in every proportion. Not fat but tall and improbably well proportioned like an Amazon. As I focus on her as a perfect example for our conversation I am again interrupted. Just before I mention her a man walks from behind us to the same intersection. He too is like a larger version of the common man. I start with the woman.

See that woman right there must be Julie Strain. A popular comic book model for her well proportioned physique. A human body is hard to draw. Especially so many times as a comic book artist must render it. It is easier to focus on a couple of things that make a character distinguishable than painstakingly draw a completely realistic person every time. In our comic culture rendering points that make a person obviously a man or a woman are seen as cornerstones of drawing. Emphasizing these points make the drawn woman more impossibly physically feminine than any other woman has a right to expect of her body. It is the same for the men. It is not done to engender jealousy, but for easy recognizability. That these improbable extremes are seen as easy on the eyes does not hurt matters, but it is not really the point. I have no idea who the man is but he must work in the same capacity as Julie.

After my speech I recognize the two people that were examples of my explanation match the wanted posters I had previously received. I call police assistance by yelling for them to apprehend the two suspects. Police spring out of nowhere. Possibly tailing me, confident that I would lead them to their answer. The woman is caught without difficulty, but the man runs a little ways before being taken down. A pile of policemen are struggling to restrain the man. From my vantage point standing a yard away observing this I see the side of the man's body come into view. His hand is going for a gun stuck in the back of his pants. I yell, "He has a gun", and leap forward to restrain him before he can free and use it.

Just as he pulls it free I grab the end of the gun from him. Before it slips completely from his hand he manages to pull the trigger. A bullet pierces my palm but leaves me otherwise unharmed. Pulling myself from the fray I tend to my hand with EMS assistance. No other mishaps happen and the man is successfully taken into custody. Going home I grab my typewriter from the table and fling it upon the ground. I proceed to stomp and kick it in anger at the world. I am broken and ruined. My writing hand is useless, so I will never be able to write again. Cooling down after destroying the typewriter I notice a woman sitting on the bed.

She entails me to not jump so drastically to the conclusion that I can never write again. In response I stare at her through the whole in my hand. I thought my point would be clear and unarguable. She replies that just because I can't write with my hands doesn't mean I am through. She will stay with me and type whatever I dictate. Together my writing will continue.

. . .

I am in a Corps bay. Just one big rectangular open room. I can picture two rows of beds going down the length of the bay. Their lengths would run from the center walkway of the bay to either wall. The beds would have 2 feet spaces between them, and the walkway would be 4 foot wide between the two rows. There are no beds but there is a sense of them belonging. It is empty except for a couple of other people. We are not freshman but upperclassmen in some capacity or another.

A person that pretends to normality but really we are ignoring each other. Their is some activity where minimal responses are issued to each other. Some running back and forth in the bay. A running game must be in progress, but I do not participate. I am resting against the back wall. The person is about to crash into the wall I lean upon. Acting quickly I catch the person before high speed contact with the wall is made. Offense is the only response. AT fields at full strength.

In the back of the bay where I stand there is a free standing wall that separates a small space from the rest of the bay. At either end of the free standing wall a small one person break allows entrance or exit to the area broken apart from the rest of the bay. The person and a friend talk in this area. My medicine cabinet is located by itself directly before the right hand walk through to this back area. Inspecting my cabinet I find all my stuff gone and replaced by possibly a roommate's stuff. I am remember that I put all my stuff in a plastic container. With my cabinet open the walk through is blocked.

There is a knocking at a door near where I am. The door is locked from the outside. I hear the friends exclaim that they will get it as they are leaving that way anyway. I observe them doing so to ensure the person is not forgotten. There must be another way from the separated area to the exit for them to have passed by without me needing to close my medicine cabinet.

Tower of Heroes

All 20 or 30 of us walked down from the top of the Tower of Heroes. Heroes on the way to dinner. I wore a t-shirt calling myself a patsy. At dinner another complained about my t-shirt. Perhaps he thought the shirt was mocking us all. I immediately grew incredibly angry. I shouted that at least I wasn't a government patsy. Upon making this exclamation I relaxed, laughed the whole thing off, and slapped him on the back indicating he need not fear my wrath.

After dinner I grabbed a large afghan from the booth where we ate and wrapped it around myself like I was a Muslim women. My friend laughed and emulated me. We walked this way back towards the Tower of Heroes, our home. The Tower was only habitable at the top. The rest of the bottom was a steep incline that curved around the inside of the Tower. Upon reaching the bottom of the steep incline I proceeded to climb. Even using the side rails to help pull myself along I was only able to proceed a couple of steps. The steepness of the path seemed unsurpassable. It was not an issue getting down, but getting back up required something more than great effort.

I pulled myself to the side so that others could pass me while I struggled. They might have proceeded a couple steps higher but they soon stopped. The procession up was halted. All the heroes milled around at the bottom of the Tower trying to figure out how to get home for the evening.

The walled city we were in was soon to be under attack. The situation seemed bleak as the city had no standing army. Quickly we gathered the citizens for defense of the city. With all the normal people and heroes out in force we were still sure to be overwhelmed. I was overlooking a squadron of spearmen just inside the city walls. The citizens wanted to flee but we forced them to stand fast. Another hero shouted that the first to turn and flee would be made a slave. We shouted our defiance at the invaders and the citizens rattled their spears.

A large force that I had taken for the heroes primary foe was actually the city's patron saint. He manifested as a large apparition above the city. He revealed the source of his power was the Tower of Heroes. Just as the invaders were about to breach the walls the saint picked up the Tower and hurled it sideways outside the walls of the city. The huge Tower landed and rolled up and down hills away from the city. In it's path it crushed about a third of the enemy force. Perhaps now we would be victorious.

As the enemy started climbing over the wall I called on the archers behind the spearmen to attack.

Nothing comes from nothing

Everything could exist, but nothing does.
Even awake I dream of answers.
They are a pleasant oasis to rest at awhile.

Networked X-Boxes in a PC lab

Inside a PC lab there a several rows of computers. Consoles, possibly X-Boxes, are hooked up so they are being played on the monitors. The lab is full with about 30 people playing consoles. They are all hooked together playing the same game. I think it is Tomb Raider because the main character is Lara Croft. The cut scenes seem cheesy because they are engine rendered. I focus on her polygon accentuated biceps. She is climbing mountains. More specifically she is climbing directly over a mask of a buddha's face that is secured to the top of a mountain.

The cut scene ends and the game enters first person viewpoint. The fighting is taking place next door in my childhood neighbor's front yard. The friend who used to live there is the one I am fighting. It is a complicated fight. We do not hate each other, for it is just a game. There is a count off inside the game and the person in charge states that someone is unaccounted for. I am unconcerned.

The person in charge proceeds to look for the missing person. We do not even know who is missing, just that we are one off in the numbers. In the person's search they knock on the door of a strange house. My grandmother answers. I miss the exchange as I sneak in the house. Once my grandmother shuts the door and goes to the bedroom I sneak out the front door. I think she is disturbed by the noise of my exit. I am able to sneak in again but this time I leave via another door. This new area is fresh, new, and unknown. During my sneaking about I miss one or more accountability counts.

Real life interrupts on the game as Tony Soprano enters the PC lab. He observes the game for a moment. Before he can say anything Meadow, from a couple of rows over, says "What in the world is this", anticipating perfectly his statement. He takes over administering the game. When I dive back into the game my viewpoint is much smaller. I seem to be alone in the game. Confused my intellect half focuses on the real world for an explanation. Tony explains to the room that he fixed it so that whoever was the unaccounted for person previously is now a bug in the game. It is obviously me. I missed a couple of counts, but who was unaccounted for before me?

At this change of events half the people leave their PCs and sit apart as observers. Unsure what is going on I ask an observer if I am supposed to continue to play. He replies that it is all right if I do and to find an open seat. I get up and find a new seat to play from. As I sit down half the current players swap sides of the room with the other half. I don't know what the seating rules are, or why they swapped, so I maintain my newly chosen seat.

In my new seat Tasha is sitting next to me. She has the American Beauty album but for some reason the band is labeled incorrectly. I point out that it is really by the Grateful Dead. I express my surprise that she has or listens to it. She was unaware of the mislabeling it. She just really liked the music. I notice that she also has several Pink Floyd CDs. We must share a lot in common if she also likes my favorite band. This idea is shot down by her general lack of caring for Floyd. She is not even sure why she has them. Though strangely enough these CDs of hers have my mark on them. Perhaps I marked them for some reason? If so then I might also be the one who playfully squirted water with my squirt gun over some of her other stuff.

Lion's Wound

The lion had a wound. I thought it was a thorn, so I pulled it out with all my might. The wound was more like a broken bone that had healed wrong. Without warning I had broken it anew, and hoped it would heal properly.

The lion dislikes me now because it hurts as much as when it was freshly broken. Who knows if it will heal straight.

Soap

Thoughts and emotions blurring past two quickly to grasp. My vast patience is whittled down by the speed. Nothing is left and days are remembered as weeks. It is easier now to understand the mistakes I made before. The speed is my anchor. Frantically I grip harder only to have it slip further away.

Backyard of Pools and Rabbits

On the back porch in someone's backyard. It seems tropical with lots of plants. I see a rabbit in the shrubs. I approach the rabbit trying to spook it. Instead of being scared it comes out of the shrubs and approaches me. I notice that it is very thin apparently starved. Starved and disheveled. It's fur is unkempt and its too front buck teeth are uneven. On reflection it is about four times bigger than a normal rabbit. I reach out to it, again seeking to scare it away. It reaches for my hand attempting to suckle on my finger. Now I am the scared one. I try to kick it away but the first attempt is unsuccessful. The rabbit is just too large. I retreat to the house. The rabbit is following perhaps convinced that I will feed it. Kicking it back I just manage to close the clear sliding glass window before it can enter.

This is not my house, I am just a guest. Inspecting my room I find my belongings all set up and in order. There is a threat of disorder when grandma finally comes to the house. That she will appropriate my room for some other use seems guaranteed. I will tackle that problem when it arises. For now I must deal with the bunnies. I go back to the living room to observe any bunnies and the backyard through the sliding glass door.

The backyard is a series of dropping levels starting at the house. It has thick vegetation but is dominated by pools with multiple waterfalls flowing down the multiple levels. The pools and vegetation are surrounded by grey flat rock. The highest level is closest to the house so all the water flows away over each individual pool's rock edge. The vertical sides of the pools reveal multiple layers of rock slabs stacked upon one another.

My little sister is in this backyard, but I manage to get her inside before she has a confrontation with a rabbit. Once I get her inside I begin to explain the attributes and behaviors of the rabbits that seem to be around this house. I notice a rabbit now in the backyard and focus on it. Their is something wrong. The rabbit's ears are on the wrong end of it's body. The rabbit is looking at me with clearly visible eye's but it's ears are on the wrong end. I don't seem to be able to detect a mouth though. I point this out to my sister so that she will be able to help me solve this mystery. The strange creature stops staring at me and moves revealing a normal rabbit head on the other end of it's body. The ear's are on the right end, but for some reason these rabbits have an extra pair of eyes on their backside. Now seeing several of them I am able to deduce that it is not just a one time aberration but the norm for rabbits around this house.

I go outside to try to fight off these horrors. My sister, without my consent, joins me. My plan is simple. The rabbits aggressively want to get closer to people, but from before I don't remember any actually trying to hurt me. Possibly they just want food and are convinced we can give it to them. With this in mind I will just kick the pests down to the next level of pools and vegetation. Hopefully they will fall down to a level from which they will not be able to climb back up to the house. Fortunately I am battling no more than one or two rabbits at a time, but now that I am out there they will definitely all be drawn towards me. As I am battling I notice that their rear end, the end that should just have fur but instead has an extra pair of eyes, also has a small pair of rounded ears on top of it. As I notice this another detail is revealed. Underneath their normal rabbit face, on their neck, is a prehensile tail. It was concealed just being curled underneath their head before. They begin to use this prehensile tail to try to wrap and entangle my arms. Frightened by this new development I retreat with my sister to the interior of the house.

We need blades to strike off the prehensile tails of these half rabbit half monkey abominations. I tell her I will go and find one, with the image of my leather man firmly seated in my mind. As I approach my room I realize what a small and futile weapon my leather man will make. I resolve to get my swords. The longest and the shortest one. Despite them being unsharpened I am convinced they will make short work of the entangling tails.

I enter my room and infuriatingly find all my stuff gone and replaced by Christmas ornamentation. How did my grandma have the gall to move all my stuff without consulting me. Now I am angry and panicked for time. Jogging through the house purposefully I open several doors, feeling that my time is about to run out. I need to find the room where my stuff was moved to. My short jaunt for a weapon has now turned into a quest that is taking too long. Panicked that I will return too late I abandon the search and resolve to use one of the small blades by the sliding glass door, main exit to the backyard. Three assorted blades are on the ground, side by side. I pick up the biggest, but it is still too small to fight with. I need something to lop with. I would have to be very lucky to cut off a monkey tail with so small a blade.

Hearing my lamentations the owner of the house approaches me asking why the blade in my hand is inappropriate. I describe the infestation his backyard has that I am trying to fight off. Disturbed he goes out into the backyard to investigate. Fortunately there are no monkey-rabbits nearby at this time. While investigating his backyard we find the edge of the property and a large root of several meters diameter going skyward.

The property we are on is a an island floating in the sky. At the lowest level of pools and vegetation in the backyard a giant root from the island gnarls away into the sky. It was not visible where the root ended, but it was obvious it reached towards another sky island. This is how our island remained in the sky. It was suspended from another island by means of the gigantic root. The owner explained that the monkey-rabbits were most likely coming from along the root to reach his house, but we could not cut the root for the whole house would drop from the sky.

An old strange man traveled down the root to where we stood observing the root. The owner related our problem and asked if it would be safe to cut the root now that times have changed. Theoretically with the present shift in the world all the islands should be able to hang suspended by themselves. Since nobody had yet tested it though it was a dangerous proposition. After the owner explained all this, the old man craned his neck looking into the owner's eyes and cackled.

Insomnia Making Me Crazy

I lie and think over the same thoughts over and over again. I ride a rollercoaster in my bed. Over thinking everything I am at the cusp of repeating my life. Let me fall on my face if I am destined to trip. My greatest fear is not to plunge into that fall full force.

An Elf Infests My House

An elf was hiding in our house. Causing mischief as elves do. He could appear as anything he wanted. A towel, an insect, anything. It was nigh impossible to rid our house of this miscreant. We consulted a master magician on the matter. In his arsenal of spells was a locator spell for such as the elf. The master was old, bearded, and wore brown rough hewn clothes. He agreed to take me on a quest so that I might find a relief for the problem.

The mystery of the orange balloon. Before I left there was a bag or tangle of some color in the trees above the drive way. The wind would blow and fill a balloon from this tangle of color. The balloon drifted down with the wind towards a car in the driveway. The owner of the car, afraid of a balloon created in such a manner, opened his car window so that the balloon's path would not be impeded. The balloon drifted into the car through the window but did not leave. The balloon flew about inside the car as if looking for something. Through the front seat, in between passenger and driver seat into the back, down to the floor. The balloon, if alive, continued to look, and the driver now did not have a car. How could he enter and disturb the balloon?

Questing questing questing alone for answers. I meet two college friends. I do not remember the first ones name but the second, upon reflection, was Daniel. We must have talked for some time, reminiscing about old times. Eventually they joined me on my quest for a while. Walking along sidewalks. The scenery could be any urban sidewalk in America. Some buildings, some grass. The setting beneath notice but urban. I must have taken a different path because I found myself before a virgin obstacle but my friends awaited me on the other side. I must have not noticed them taking a different route which avoided the perilous path before me. Such is life and I would not shrink from it. There was a short orange mesh construction fence surrounding the far corner. I was still standing on a sidewalk but it ended incomplete. Afterwards a dirt pit where sidewalk had yet to be layed. In the pit was garbage, but I would not have to wade through the garbage if I could navigate the shaky piles of garbage. They were placed conveniently close together enough to be used as stepping stones through the morass. I proceeded to use them as such. Each step required my best balance. Taking it slow was the only option so as to remain in the most control. Nearing the end I toppled into the garbage. Failure was not immobilizing. Picking myself up I climbed over the construction fence and rejoined my friends.

A swirl of grey behind the brown iris of an eye.

Entering a store parking lot there is a pickup truck and another Daniel from college. The two Daniels are good friends and they greet each other warmly. I proceed to a bus. The school bus is nearly full and making rounds through a residential area like a metropolitan bus. It goes down my street. At the end of my street I see two more college friends packing their bags to ship out as marines.

Returning home I am ready to deal with the elf. I see an unusual bit of light passing through the hallway. I grab it in a bear hug and the previously invisible elf is revealed. He struggles but I hold on. My experience on my quest has given me better perception but not necessarily great strength. The elf eventually escapes my grasp and hides himself in the house. The house is dark so I explore it with flashlights and a friend.

The mystery of the orange balloon is a true mystery. Even better it is a reoccuring one. The balloon does not stay forever in the car as first assumed. Someone is looking for something with the balloon as it's agent. Possibly some other agency looking for my elf. Whoever it is, it grows weary of searching the car. The balloon leaves on the wind through the window. Drifting up it floats a little ways along the driveway away from the car and it's birth. Among a tangle of dry and leafless tree branches, which overhang the edge of the driveway, it pops and strews its remains among the leafless branches that pricked it. The branches are strewn with several shredded balloons. However soon a new balloon, from the possible bag of balloons caught in the tree, is filled with wind and glides down into the car to search anew. Call the media to record this impossible true mystery.

We search about the dark house. Flashlights flicking over wall and bits of furniture. The search is almost futile as the elf is so good at concealment. Perhaps the search is in vain and the elf has left the house completely. There is a large storage area underneath the house. Shelves of clothes reminding me of the understorage area of an RV. I search the clothes feeling each one. Since I have struggled with the elf I feel confident that I know his energy. If I can lay my hands on the right bit of shirt or such I will know whether it is truly clothing or in fact the elf. There are a pair of socks that feel like the elf. I am not tricked for the elf merely constructed them as a diversion. We sort through many clothes in this great construction of shelves underneath the house.

Growing tired, but confident that the elf still resides, we call on the master magician. Arriving he laughs at our remarkable progress. He had been sure that the elf would reside with us for many millennium more. He agrees to use his locator spell to point out and finally rid us of this menace.

I notice a bit of grey mist floating in the back of a siblings eye. I piece this and the exclamation of millennium from the master together. Perhaps the elf has been living with the family for generations. Far longer than we had noticed. If so then we are all possibly half elves. I lift a bit of mantelpiece adornment above my head, a small figurine of a dolphin if it helps, and attempt to levitate it with my mind. To my amazement it floats. I fly it about the house in great speeding loops. Seeing my feat the rest of the family attempts to replicate my power. Their successes have the house flying about with numerous small objects. We attempt to juggle them between ourselves and fly more than one at a time. We all have grey swirls now dark and noticeable whipping around inside our eyes behind irises.