amberite_archive: (gallifreyan text 1)
So the other day I took a spontaneous nap (occasionally my irregular sleep cycle sticks me with a time of day where I'm more or less forced to lie down, then insta-conk-out when I do) and had a dream that worked like the Internet. (It made me think of [livejournal.com profile] helen99's clickable people heads!)

Not a dream of using the Internet. I've had those before and they're very boring unless something else is going on.

Rather, I was following dream-thought processes and they chained together in links and tabs, expanded and reduced the way webpages do. My novel characters and daily life and factoids and baubles: I'd "click" on something in my head and go there, then hit the "back button" and withdraw to the previous level...

Quotation marks because I did this with thoughts, not a mouse, and it was in my head, not on a computer. Not even a dream computer.

I wouldn't want to dream like that all the time (it lacked the narrative and physical aspects that many truly interesting dreams have) but at the same time it wasn't the rigid thought process one gets into with the real internet either -- it was a lot more flowing and natural, strange and cool. This dream was to web-surfing as a "movie-style dream" is to a movie -- like the waking-world thing, but a dimension deeper and somehow infinite and oceanic.
amberite_archive: (master talkdirty)
So I'm here in Maine, getting ready to graduate. Putting final touches on the essay for [livejournal.com profile] teriel tonight. My sleep schedule is fuckulated due to failure to sleep on the flight, so I took a nap at 4:00 and slept for a few hours.

I actually got an interesting dream, which is a good sign for the rest of my brain capacities coming back soon. Interesting, but ham-handed, in the way of "the pizza guy walks in..." because apparently going through a second puberty means that I am subject to actor crushes. I need to see more of John Simm in other roles. This will either burn the obsession out of my brain or make me completely looney, but hey, why go halfway?

Heck, the first time around I only pretended actor crushes to amuse myself. This is a little embarrassing. It is also fun.

THE DREAM:

Scene: A room -- cramped and dim and full of equipment. The central focus is some kind of observation panel or magic mirror, through which one can physically enter to send their disembodied consciousness into dream frame.

I worry about my cute nerdy gay assistant, who's been in the panel for hours now and should have made it back. He and I are engaged in spying on the Doctor's little team, because, uh, it's important. There's someone with them who may or may not be the Master. Someone played by John Simm.

He comes back.

He 'splains, "It's the way that man moves..." He makes a hand motion that stands in for hip-wiggle or one of the other graces. "I can't take my eyes off him. He's mesmerizing. That's why I fell too far in."

Thank you cute nerdy gay assistant narratorial subconscious. I knew that already. This of course means that I must do my duty and brave the mirror portal cheesy plot device in order to properly become one with the third-person dream narrative.

CUT TO: Subway car, 1920's-era. Rickety; ill-lit, there are little flashes of light entering and leaving the car. The Doctor is time-travelling manually. This is rare and difficult and quite like the shadow-shifting from Zelazny's Amber.

He has with him two companions. One is Martha, wearing a flapper dress -- the other is someone he keeps calling Baine -- who looks and moves like Simm!Master, but talks and is dressed like a 'contemp', as Connie Willis would say. (The name Baine is a Willis reference.)

It slowly becomes clear to me from the way they're talking that the Doctor knows Baine is the Master; Baine appears not to know this -- perhaps he's the result of a transformation? -- and acts as if he's just the Doctor's human companion, from the local era.

They keep meeting with pitfalls and booby traps -- something falls from the ceiling of the car, an enemy jumps out of the dark at them -- which Martha often defuses. Either the Master is definitely amnesiac or it's a ruse to bring them into his traps. The Doctor gets more and more frustrated trying to figure out which of these things is true. "Aah, now we're in 1910, thereabouts," he says. "You like it here, do you, Baine?"

"Well, I suppose. Why ask me?"

"You were tapping out a rhythm from a 1910 tune, it shifted us there. You seemed to know what you were doing..."

---

I don't really have more of the dream. What a plot fragment! It makes me speculate that perhaps the Doctor turned him human in a misguided effort to save/rewrite him, but it's not a clear enough narrative to write it into fanfic.

I had another Doctor Who dream recently, before leaving Oregon -- where all the old Who companions and Martha were wandering around in a cave where their Doctors were trapped. The thing I remember best about it was that one companion said to another, "No, don't go towards that entrance, it's guarded by the Worm People," and indeedy it was, and the Worm People were extras doing inchworm movements and wearing whiteface makeup -- because that's old Who! It even had a sort of low-res look.

Oh, and I have had that Scissor Sisters song stuck in my head since Monday. Makes me sympathetic to the sexy bastard and his drums.

---

edit: Also, fic rec! Morning Constitutional, by [livejournal.com profile] snowgrouse and [livejournal.com profile] taleya. It is better and wronger than mine. (And, warning, FAR less consensual. Fucked up.) If you liked mine, you may want to read it. Needless to say, NC-17.
amberite_archive: (chaos)
...might especially be of interest to Tim Powers/James Blaylock fans, and other readers of weird fiction, because it's one of those:

A man (who is my main perspective character*) wandering around Los Angeles, encounters a physical fight going on in a subway station. The doors are locked, and he must throw a large heavy lever to get out. Back at the surface, he takes a turn and finds a staircase leading down into a Mexican shop emporium. He follows the staircase, needing a place to compose himself, remembering this place from somewhere. The grocery is in some disarray, with ants and insects swarming on the floor, so he continues another level down to be rid of the vermin.

Each floor is wide and spacious, fluorescent-lit with linoleum tile. Down here the desk in the center of the shop has a woman who speaks not much English. He inquires after some refreshment; she leads him another floor down, maybe two, he's not certain. At some point he takes a wrong turn, and disappears.

Seven years later he reappears, and his girlfriend has been looking for him fruitlessly all this time. He wants to show her the spatial rift that caused his disappearance. They go there, and the mall has more floors than he remembered, and he can't think of which way it was. They split up. She finds the rift and disappears into it. He remains.

In the third installment three people have come to investigate it. Now there is a museum, a touristy place with round bathysphere-style porthole doors and flashy exhibits moving electricity charges around** on the walls, which are very white and curved at the ceilings: not at all like the Mexican grocery-mall.

They are being cautious this time, trying not to get sucked in. They are there to investigate the disappearance of William Ashbless some years ago. (Ah! So that's who I am!) He is, of course, the main character in this whole dream.

Ashbless is, of course, one of the people who has come to investigate the disappearance of William Ashbless. He is giving the others careful instructions and trying to keep from falling into the rift, as the complex has been rebuilt so completely that he does not know where it is. They take a turn and end up in a little cafe where people sell coffees and cakes and pomegranate creams. He tries one with some trepidation.*** Something hanging on the wall has great significance; he doesn't want to look at it. The people running the place are almost certainly trying to lead him towards it, and a misstep could be made...

---

Administrative etc: [livejournal.com profile] mesila333 is now visiting, so I encourage [livejournal.com profile] lupabitch and [livejournal.com profile] teriel (or anyone else who's had a correspondence with her) to come down for an afternoon and hang out.

--

*In one sideline dream, my older brother is telling me that he fell into this rift and lost several years, isn't sure how many, and wants to pursue legal action. Everyone else seems to think he's been there the whole time. This is probably a note from my brain to my brain, rather than a part of the narrative.

**Electricity discharges -- lightning -- almost universally a portent of Nyarlathotep in my dreams, though he didn't come up in this one.

***Have fun in Faerie; don't drink the water!

Profile

amberite_archive: (Default)
amberite_archive

September 2016

S M T W T F S
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
2526272829 30 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 21st, 2017 06:42 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios