I had. . .a rather odd dream last night. I wrote it down as soon as
I awoke, and since it's anime related, I'm posting it here. "But what
does it mean, Dr. Jung?" ;-).
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"When I wake up early in the morn-ing
lift my head
I'm still yawn-ing
When I'm in the middle of a dream
stay in bed
float upstream. . . ."
--The Beatles
"I'm Only Sleeping."
I'M ONLY SLEEPING
by
PAUL HERRING
From the moment I opened my eyes, I knew that I wasn't in my bed.
In fact, I wasn't in a bed at all--I was lying flat on my back on a
futon on the floor, and when I opened my eyes, the ceiling was
unfamiliar--especially the light fixture overhead. But then, so was
the rest of the room. But then, so was my body.
I sat up, and the first thing I noticed was that I now had breasts.
And there was a strange. . .emptiness between my legs. My hands were
funny looking, too--slimmer, more feminine, with long, unpainted nails.
I had a ring in the shape of a dragon on the index finger of my right
hand. There were tiny green emeralds set in the eyes which seemed to
wink at me.
I brought my fingers up to my face, and everything felt different--
the shape of my nose, the lips, the high cheekbones, the hair. The
hair; the fact that I *had* any at all--and I'd just shaved it off
again yesterday, dammit!--was a shock; another was that it was so long:
I pulled a few strands around in front of my eyes and they were silky
and deep brown.
Removing the futon covers, I saw what I was waring: a traditional
Chinese acrobat's costume, in deep blue with yellow trim. A very
familiar costume. I looked around--it wasn't my room anymore, but it
seemed vaguely familiar--and saw a full-length mirror over in the far
corner. I ran to it, looked, and covered my mouth with my hands.
Just as I thought. Chun-Li was staring back at me, walleyed with shock.
For the next few minutes I just stood there like that, unmoving,
hardly breathing. Then I slowly reached out a hand to touch my
reflection, as though that would make it less real. Or more. Or
something.
"Oohhhhhh," I moaned, in a high-pitched, Shampoo-like voice.
"Oohhhh. I. . .I'm--" I swallowed, then continued, "--I'm beautiful.
So beautiful."
Leaning over to my own reflection, I closed my eyes and kissed the
glass, the cold hard surface tingling my lips. Then I pulled back, and
proceeded to spend the next few minutes posing and vogueing and admiring
myself in the mirror, caressing my new body, occasionally pinching my
wrist to make sure that I wasn't dreaming.
"God, I love myself," I sighed.
Eventually I managed to tear myself away from my image long enough
to look around the room. The white ribbons in my hair rustled with the
movement.
The room was rectangular, a small box about 11 x 21 feet. The futon
was in the middle of the floor, and to my left, there was a small desk
cluttered with papers and such. Sunlight streamed in from a window and
a sliding glass door leading out onto a balconey. The pastel peach walls
were empty save for a few hangings of bonbori trees. . .and Japanese
centerfolds. I frowned. I knew I'd seen this room somewhere before; but
somehow I just couldn't call up where. Damn. Something on the table
caught my eye and I pranced over to look; it was the Oregonian--but it
was printed on salmon colored paper and the masthead was in blue ink, not
black. Oh yeah, and it was all in Chinese, too, but somehow I could read
it even though I had failed Japanese two years before. I picked it up.
On the front page there was a full-color photo of an amorphous,
multi-colored blob which was throwing off sparks and forks of lightening
in all directions. The headline screamed
WEIRD-ASS METEOR PASSING BY EARTH!!!!
The story read:
A huge and very abnormal meteorite is
due to pass by the planet earth during
the next 48 hours. According to Dr.
Franken von Folger, Chief of Meteorology
at the Wayne Observatory, the meteor is
releasing all manner of "unidentified"
radiation, including Tachion and Polaron
fields all the way over into the EM band,
as well as X, Y, Z and Gamma rays.
According to Dr. Folger, these rad fields
are fifteen times stronger then those of
the planet Jupiter, and will engulf the
earth for a period of ten hours beginning--
I stopped reading and pricked up my ears: a noise. There was
something happening outside.
I opened the sliding doors and walked out onto the balconey. The
sky was strange--deep blue, with flaming yellow clouds. Though it was
broad daylight, I could see stars, and what looked like Saturn looming
huge on the horizon. Near the balconey, a stand of huge redwoods
soared high into the air. There were scores of them. The wind whistled
and sang through their branches. Then I looked down, and saw them: a
great herd of dinosaurs, about five hundred strong, racing though the
veldt between the building and the forest, their every step like
thunder. There were so many, and in such a variety of natural camoflages
that they were almost a colorful as the toucans and parrots which soared
above them. The wind shifted, and for a moment I caught a gagging whiff
of their stench, as at a zoo when one is near the cages.
"Amazing, isn't it?" called a voice nearby. I looked up and over to
see, sitting on one of the roof levels, Sybel--the freelance photog from
Black Magic M-66. She had her camera with her, and she was busily
snapping pictures of the dino herd. Her short black hair was tousled by
the breeze.
"These are the best shots I've ever got," she continued. "If there
are any newspapers or T.V. stations still around, I'll make a fortune!"
"I bet it beats being chased about by that fraggin' robot," I
replied. Below, the dino herd had passed on and had now been replaced by
thousands of clowns. Clowns, jugglers, fools and harliquins, armies of
them, a riot of color, noise and fun. There were even among them--dare I
say it? Mimes, that lowest form of entertainment, both on the ground and
in the trees. I smiled and threw them roses from the bouquet I held in
my hands.
Presently the air was rent with the screech of the invasion fleets:
thousands of huge yellow and black tiger striped flying saucers, cruising
in V-formation across the skies.
"The Uruseians are here," I commented, looking over at Sybel, but
now she'd transformed into Agent Fox Mulder, who was taking more pictures
then ever until Scully walked up behind him and pushed him off of the roof.
She winked at me, and gave a feral grin.
<I hope he didn't land on one of the clowns,> I thought.
"This really isn't Oregon anymore," I said to no one in particular.
All along the ridge of hills surrounding us, amidst the trees, I espied
thousands of Apache and Blackfoot, majestic astride their horses, wating
for the dino's to get nearer so, I surmised, they could begin the hunt.
I yawned and stretched, and turned to go back inside.
"Hey!"
I was startled at the voice, and even more startled to see who it
belonged to. He stood there right in front of me, hair disheveled, in
black jeans and a pea-green sweater. Suddenly I remembered exactly who
the room belonged to.
"A-Ataru," I said in my girly-girl voice.
"W-what are you doing here?" he asked. He sounded exactly like Ren
Hoek, and in his left hand, he held a bannana. "This is my room!"
"I'm sorry," I said, coming towards him. "I slept here last night;
I don't know how I got here." I consciously put a wiggle into my walk as
I approached. "I'm sorry." He looked flustered, and I gently placed a
hand upon his cheek before drawing him into my arms. He hugged me tightly,
resting his head upon my shoulder, and I heard him stifle a sob.
"Shhhhh," I soothed. "*I* don't think you're a looser, Ataru-chan."
Looking past him, expecting to get zakked by Lum at any second, I gazed
out the open door into the hallway. It was pitch black, as though nothing
existed there, but far away, in the distance, there was a tiny window
through which a grey light shone.
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And then I woke up. Talk about weird. I know where the overall concept
for at least some of this came from, though--a short story I read a long
time ago called "Something Passed By," (can't remember the author) in which
an unknown object passes by the earth and causes all kinds of strange and
horrific things to happen--"Gravity howizers" which squash people; gasoline
becoming drinkable while water is poisonous, etc. However, it wasn't anything
*like* what I dreamed last night, what with the clowns and Agent Mulder and
me turnin' into Chun-Li and all. Sheesh. And to boot, I *HATE* Ataru! Why the
hell didn't I feed him to the T-Rex's or the Velocoraptors?! Or at least
drop-kick his ass into the sun. Ah, well. See, this is why I don't do drugs,
folks--with my dream-life, who can tell the difference?
11/13/97
Paul Herring
Warrior Monk, Church Of The Black Rose
Keeper Of The Sacred Flame Of Phoenix
Artist Supreme, Clan Justice