19th Century

The beginning of a dream that ends coherently hardly ever matches its climax. The dream almost seems like a slide projector, scanning through images quickly and carelessly, until it settles on something it likes, and pursues that thread. I remember that I was seeing images of train stations, and I got on a train that was designed to carry its passengers on the outside, with seats attached up and down along the side of it. I remember getting on the train, but I don't remember where it went, because the slide projector turned, and I went to another image.

I was in a horse-drawn carriage; though there was no horse, and it was more like a giant crib built for a man, as it was located in my bedroom. I was watching some science fiction movie and making a list. I hardly remember what was on that list now, but I remember it was important. Some information about love unrequited, my life in general, and my purpose.

I woke up. I was outside a barn where a group of friends met weekly. I arrived just as their meeting was ending. They were perplexed that I would show up late, and knowing that I must have lied to them about having a reason for not showing up that night, I invented another lie: I've been sleep-driving lately.

Unfortunately, the lie turned into reality. I was still on top of the carriage when I had arrived, and the horse that drew my carriage began to buck. I managed to calm him down, and have a long chat with two of my friends, who showed me the giant cookies (at least two feet wide) their activist mom was making for Earthquake relief around the world. They were covered in the thickest and most colorful icing I have ever seen. My friends had forgiven me for my missing the meeting, and bid me farewell.

I clamored onto my carriage, and began leaving. While turning from the barn's driveway the carriage began to shift into the form of a mini-van, and then back into the carriage. Because of this, and the separate control methods, (horsepower and combustion engine) I began to crash into their neighbors' mailbox. Finally the carriage stayed a carriage and I began down the familiar road to my home.

The road was no longer familiar. Somehow, I had gotten onto a major highway in a snowstorm, and the carriage was now a sleigh, allowing me to move in the snow. I was also now accompanied by a girl. The sleigh was moving well in the snow, until it became clear that the snow was becoming thicker, until it appeared that the snow had become so thick that it was like limestone, and began pounding the sleigh, which was now a dump truck (still pulled by a horse). I watched as the dump truck filled with rocks, and I felt as if I was going to sink under the stone. I heard the voice of Chris yell out to me, "JUST RIDE WITH IT." and as soon as he yelled that, the truck stopped sinking under the stones, and started riding with them as if they were surf. I rode a little further and eventually came to a much more slightly snow-covered road. I thanked Chris who, with his girlfriend Lacey, joined me and the carriage girl on our sleigh.

We found a small bar where we could relax for a bit. We entered only to find a group of middle-aged locals, all glaring as we entered. I stabled the horse and the sleigh, and met with Chris, Lacey, and carriage girl. We ordered two drinks - for Lacey and carriage girl, while Chris and I tried to figure out where we were. Unfortunately, we didn't have much time with the map, because the woman behind the bar wanted forty-seven dollars for two beers, and of course they didn't take credit card. I started looking through my wallet and pocket for money as the bar patrons began to get closer to us, prepared to fight.

All of the money I had was soaking wet and had somehow run clear, and had turned into a somewhat gelatin-like appearance. Now this was fine according to the bartender, but because of this transformation the money had undergone, it acquired a new characteristic - it would take the form of whatever was next to it in my pocket. So the bill next to my credit card was now a clear, flimsy credit card, not a 20 dollar bill. Most of my money was destroyed, but I was finally able to muster up forty-seven dollars, and Chris, the girls and I ran out of the bar while the bartender complained about tip.

We got to the stable and I tried to untie my horse from its post. Chris admired the horse as I got the sleigh ready. I told him that his name was Comet II, and he continued to pet the horse. As we left through the stable doors, the bar patrons stared at us, convulsing and vomiting at us through the windows. Chris extended his hand to pet Comet II one more time, and was bitten. Comet II had turned into a mountain lion, just barely strong enough to carry the sleigh, and angry and tired. I apologized to Chris about the bite, wrapped his hand, and we left. The bar patrons were running out the door towards us as the dream ended.

I woke up.