Wrap the night around me/Blanket of black on my back...

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

[Wednesday night October 21st]

I close my eyes and fall into the dark behind my eyelids. I drift for the first little while and then I come to rest on the shores of a beach. Pull myself up onto the glowing white sand and look up at the glowing tree shaped hole in the sky. The thought comes to me that I'm dreaming. So I stand up and test it by causing a huge fish to jump out of the water and tell me it's a dream. The fish looks like a giant bottom fish from the river and its voice is thick and slurred. But it did say what I had told it to.

Now that I know I'm dreaming I have a choice to make, do I stay and play with stuff here or go walking and see what other people are dreamin?.  I play with my dream for a bit, changing the water for beer and playing with the shape of the light source. Finally come to the conclusion that of course other people's dreams are more fun because it's more challenging. Here I can do anything, out there I have to fit in a bit with the dream first before I can make significant changes.

This thought instantly brings up a road in front of me and I set off down it. The road is nothing special, just a dirt track thumping under my boots. I shift the bags on my shoulders and then dismiss them. I don't need baggage for a dreamwalk. I guess I've been on the road so long the physical memory is bleeding into my dreaming.


Reach the barrier of my dreamspace and with the briefest of glances go right through into the nearest dream. Let's see what's out here tonight.

[open to Frances' character]

[Closed]

Comments

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Being talked to helps. Being something to talk to. Can feel my mouth getting a little steadier, great sharp crescent. Somewhere I think there are shapes moving in the dark, black on black. But a good place to winter? Somewhere there was the hot dark of a summer night, a straw-filled tearing and a pumpkin smash. Christ the Carpenter. Candles. "...ow long?" Dammit. Don't ever remember it being like this. "Who... are you?"

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

A shape forms there at the top where the voice comes from, a crescent. The whisper gets a little stronger. ...ow long?Who... are you?

"Don't know what you mean. But if you want to know the date, it's the 21th of October.. And you can call me Dreamwalker." And then I frown. Damn. I'm not the only one any more. But I don't want to just hand out my other name, the one from the waking world. Ah but I have more than one name over there. "Or Corey. I'll answer to that as well." I smile a bit at that cleverness. Haven't given my last name out so much as the first so that should be alright. It's a good thing that Corey could just as easily be a first name as a last one.

What's going on here? Why am I letting this this whatever, question me?

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Don't know what you mean. But if you want to know the date, it's the 21th of October.. And you can call me Dreamwalker." October. October?! Christ the Carpenter on his Father-damned crutch! There's a hollow groan, like wind blowing through dead tree branches at midnight 'round a boneyard. I think that was me. About to ask what year it is, but hell, I never checked and he probably doesn't know either.

"Or Corey. I'll answer to that as well." Kid's got a cocky little smile now.

"You ain't him," I say, pock and pock in the smoke above the mouth, grey haze trying to hold sharp edges. Air goes in and out. Blood goes around and around. Variations are bad. "'less I'm dead too." And 'less death primped him up a bit and dropped a damn wig on him. "Don't think... I want any man'd shoot a lady in my town." Serious at that. Think I can feel my shoulders stretch out a little, get more solid.

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

Without warning a sound rises, a long groaning sound, like a winter wind. I shiver automatically. Partly old memories and partly because I'm spooked. Usually nightmares don't get to me because they're tailored for the dreamer. I don't know what it is about this one, but if I didn;t know better I'd say it was for me. Except for the damn questions. Those don't fit.

You ain't him,'less I'm dead too. What? Is there another Corey here in town? I catch up with the words. More like was.

The shape is getting firmer, more man-like. Still made of smoke but now it's roughly man shaped. Tall bugger. I have to look up at that hazy figure. the lack of a face makes it more intimidating. Don't think... I want any man'd shoot a lady in my town. As are the words. Sounds serious and a bit threatening.

I raise my hands placatingly. "Hold on, hold on. I just got into town on Monday. Wouldn't shoot anyone, guy or girl."

What the bloody hell is going on here? I didn't hear about anyone shooting a girl in town. Only deaths I heard about were the guy who wanted to be mayor and a couple who burned to death in a big house on the edge of town.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

Monday. Doesn't mean much but-- yeah. Monday in October, he ain't got nothing to do with them.

"That's good." I c'n feel the movement in the darkness around us, black shapes hiding behind the black. "What're you doing here?" Look away from him and to either side, and still can't make anything out, but I know it's there. We need... candles, or somethin'. Weird enough that I can see him.

"What're you doing here?" I say again and this time it's more meant for here, not for town. Not for my town. Excolo.

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

That's good. I relax a bit as the hostility eases out of the voice. What're you doing here? The head shape turns from side to side as if looking for something. And all of a sudden I'm sure there's something out there. I repress a shudder as that eyeless face turns back to me.What're you doing here? It asks again, with the emphasis on the last word. Makes it clear it's not talking about the town anymore.

I lick my lips and draw my breath in slowly. Right now I want a cigarette. Badly. "Walking. Walking the dreamlands." I try a smile. Just a small one. "Remember? I said you can call me Dreamwalker."

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

He's looking nervous; I can tell that, even through the two hollows in the smoke above my mouth. Frown at that, but his next words kinda throw me.

"Walking. Walking the dreamlands." Smiling again, just a bit. "Remember? I said you can call me Dreamwalker."

"Huh." Well I sure as hell did not expect that. "You can call me Hollow, but it don't damn well make it so. So you'n me are both dreaming?" Look around again. Always kept meaning to see if I could sleep and dream, since I heard about Nanshe and the red and blue cities. Never got the time, though. Always something to do. It's not at all like it was in the time after Shooter's Knob and before Excolo.

"Never done this before," I say thoughtful. "It's kinda quiet."

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

There's a pause and then it says in a much friendlier voice, You can call me Hollow, but it don't damn well make it so. So you'n me are both dreaming? I nod. That calms me down as well. I'm dreaming, and so is the other person. Even if right now they look like a column of smoke shaped very roughly into a man-like figure. The figure is looking around. Never done this before,"It's kinda quiet.

I look around at the blackness around us and grin. Now I think I got a handle on what's going on, I feel much better, even maybe like showing off.

"Doesn't have to be. It's a dream, can be whatever you wanna make it." Which gives me kinda an idea. Standing here on the road looking up at that not-face is creepy. Better to put us on the level in something a bit more familiar. So I conjure up a couple of chairs and put us in them. Next comes a table with a tea light in the middle and a couple of beer bottles. Lastly the walls and generic hum of a bar in the early evening.

[jack-hollow.livejournal.com]

"Doesn't have to be. It's a dream, can be whatever you wanna make it," and a couple of chairs are just there, like desert frogs popping up after a rain. Table with a tiny candle behind glass and two bottles of beer, sweating cold in the air. Tavern--I think it's the Tavern--coming up around us.

"Jesus," I say in a slightly stunned voice, looking around and holding on to the arms of my chair. Yeah, Tavern. There's the jukebox, belting out something about a wayward son.

Can be whatever I want to make it, huh?

Look down at myself and grin. Might still be not quite here, but that deputy's badge shine is sure good to see again. Evin if it looks weirder than hell on that brownish-grey smoke.

"So," I say, looking back up. "This is all... raree-show? You pretend there's beer there and I pretend to see it?"

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

Hollow's reaction is worth it. That stunned sound to the voice. And the slow way the head turns looking around us. Details fill in as he looks. Yeah by now I'm pretty sure it's a he. Guess it's his favorite bar. Place has a jukebox and a bit of music drifts over. Think I recognize the song. Last, he looks down at himself and then one thing comes clear. A badge. A shiny deputy's badge.

Isn't THAT interesting. No face, hardly any form; but his voice is strong and the badge is shiny. and those questions...Have I dreamwalked up to the law in this town?

So,This is all... raree-show? You pretend there's beer there and I pretend to see it?

I smirk and reach for the beer in question, take a drink. "Not exactly. More like I gave you the suggestion of beer and your mind decides how real it is. Try your drink, Deputy."

Let's see if I guessed right.