Captain’s Log

Thanks to the war, the Great Plains had once again turned into the Great Dustbowl. Miles and miles of endless high winds and dust stretched on as far as the eye could see. The jeep had broken down nearly a day ago, and the four of us had no water. We marched on. We had no choice. The two large blonde men, myself, and the auburn haired object of my poorly kept secret affection.

The winds kicked up, and a roaring sound was heard overheard. In an instant, a ball of fire shot down from the heavens and landed in our midst, sending yellow flame and sparks in a shower of brilliant light all around us. Jet planes. Everyone was twirling about and looking skyward with hands shielding faces from the dust and cold midwest sun. Canisters fell from the sky and spewed forth dull green smoke into the dust clouds and dirt devils, and I knew what it signified.

I reached out for her, that red-haired angel, and held first her hand in mine, wrapping my other arm around to press her into me. Her hair flying in the wind whipped me in the face, and her eyes looked at me with a pleading confusion. Everything … the dust storm, the jet planes, the smoke signals, even the dazed and frantic adrenalin pumping through our veins … everything faded away as I felt the softness of her lips against mine for the first time.

Pulled apart by gloved hands whose twins bore the latest high-powered weaponry, my mind made everything quiet, almost still. We struggled to reach each other against the strength of many grasping arms, helplessly dragged apart. There, in the periphery, our two companions also dragged apart, one unconcious, as we were each forced into separate armored vehicles. They had captured us at last. The battles … the Mayans … it had all been in vain.

Last night I … well, I wiped out rather suddenly. It was as though my body was trying to force me to sleep using brute intimidation. “Go to sleep now or you’ll be sorry sooner rather than later.” It was almost like it is when I’m on deaths door … like an out of body experience, being called to some other plane of existence by strange, otherworldly dream beings. Well, I passed out (didn’t even get up or move really when Jeff spilled the hooka coals onto the floor … incredible) and then had the most intense … dream? … that I’ve had in years.

I don’t remember all the details … it seemed like it lasted all night, literally, minute for minute (1 minute dreamtime = 1 minute real time) and it went a *little* like this …

I land a boat (piloting solo) somewhere on the tip of that “finger” thing that comes out of southwestern Alaska. Everything is very frozen. I work my way around some cliffs and ice and come to … I remember someone in the dream, before this, having told me about it … a huge dump, like a landfill kinda only just sitting there on the ice. Seagulls are EVERYWHERE. By the tens of thousands, even! It is terribly rancid all around and I remember having to resist the urge to puke (I’m in survival mode, gotta keep those bodily fluids.) I keep on wandering east/northeastward and eventually find …

A prison. I walk in through the front entrance and the dude behind the counter gives me a very skeptical look before quickly deciding I’m okay. I explain to him that I’m from (can’t remember) and that I landed on the western tip out there. HE gets me something … can’t remember what … and there are two inmates behind the counter. They each have their own little room and tattoo guns set up. They are tattooing themselves. Only the ink was kept at the front desk. The guard explained to me, when I asked him about it (”Are they tattooing themselves?”) that they didn’t like the colors available in the ink, which he promptly showed to me. It looked like fingerpaint in a little urn/jar. I forget why, but for some reason I ended up mixing some of the colors up (all still inside the jar) and making a sort of blueish color. When the second inmate came back for more ink he seemed pretty excited about it “How’d you do that!?” … I told him I didn’t know. Some more stuff happens that I can’t remember and then I …

walk outside, to go find the nearest town. Except maybe … yeah someone picked me up but I have no clue who. Maybe the guard arranged a ride to town for me (memo: I checked the map, the town in the dream is most likely Anchorage) and YES someone did come to pick me up, though I can’t remember for the life of me who it was. As we were driving out of the parkinglot (I was sitting passenger) I saw this couple that I *always* saw in Eugene, some housey punks … the girls name was Kelsey I believe, and I rolled down my window and shouted out to her “What the hell are *you* doing here?” to which she simply replied, “I think you’re here to find her.” and I shouted back “Who?” thoroughly confused as we were pulling away down the road and she shouted back “Cassandra” in a barely-audible-due-to-the-distance shout. This … was a strange riddle. That was my response. How strange. Anyways, we drove on … 

to the town. I walked into some kind of restaurant that also seemed like it doubled as a place for people to come in out of the cold and hang out. It was very crowded, but I had an idea that this mysterious “she” person was supposed to show up. And she did eventually walk in with a group … it wasn’t Cassie, though, and I knew it wouldn’t be … it was the girl from Thriftway (I have the hugest crush on this girl that works across the street at Thriftway.) We looked at each other, my from my seat and her as she was walking by with this group … I was a little aggitated with the location though and got up and left, walking RIGHT by her without saying a word. Then I was back …

… outside, in the cold snowy city. I guess we had each others phone numbers, though, as she quickly called me. She had come outside after me, but I was already a block or two away and she apparently thought I had gone in a different direction than I did. She told me she wanted to meet with me and that I should come back … so I tried but ended up getting lost in the city.

Must have been the red light district, because all of a sudden it seemed like every seedy and over-stylized strip club in Nevada had moved to Alaska. Strippers, half naked waitresses, and alcohol were everywhere. And I had no clue where she was.

That’s when the apartement maintence dude knocked on the door, hard, and woke me up. So he could install a smoke alarm. I haven’t been able to go back to sleep. Too disturbed.

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Weird dream last night:

I was outside at this ranch. It was sunny, the grass was golden, and the main building/stables/barn thing (it was really all of the above) looked slightly delapidated yet well used. Everything was very picturesque, really. I walked inside and there were a few people in this room and they were chopping at these practice dummies with some kind of blades that I couldn’t really identify. Inside, everything was mostly gray and there was hardly any furniture, just a table with some stuff on it. The setting reminded me of ranches from my childhood.

Anyways, as I’m watching them, this wicked looking bald dude turns and very stylistically chops this guy … not really in half, but from one armpit up through the other shoulder, so that the head and one arm hit the ground. After he swung he kept spinning so that on the backswing he chopped off the first three fingers of the severed arm before it hit the ground. He caught the fingers in mid air and returned to a ready stance, all in one fluid motion, and smiled at me maniacly (one of my own smiles. It looked AWESOME!) As I started to back away he non-chalantly tossed the fingers (all still connected) onto the table and as they hit I noticed there were many more fingers on the table. Quickly I glanced out a nearby window into a courtyard and there were fingers all over, on display, in glass cases, on littering the ground. At this point I turn around and walk determinedly outside.

A group of people are outside and one of them (a leader?) approaches me and welcomes me warmly, very glad to see me and how am I doing and such and such. It seemed genuine and practiced. He went on to explain that this was all part of the organization behind non-denominational churches and how they had influence over just about everything and what not … the whole time I’m trying to just walk away without getting on anyones bad side.

Well, eventually I just up and leave and he starts following me, so a break into a run/jog and he just keeps coming, not really running but still catching up like a villain from a bad horror flick. I make my way into some kind of church/school and this guy is holding a lecture/sermon/class of some sort, and the guy following me isn’t anywhere to be seen but I know he must be close. Before I can sit and try to blend in the class is over and people start leaving. So I slowly get up and before I can even start moving to the door the guy holding the lecture approaches me and says hello. I ask him what this group is all about and he says that they’re mormons and that they can protect me from the people following me if I become a mormon too. Before I can really give a response, the guy from before walks in the side door and starts heading for me, so I walk out the opposite side door and escape again.

Now it’s night time and I’m in the city (it seemed like a cross between S.F. and Portland meets The World of Darkness) with (of all people) Cassie. We’re having a good time, out on some walkway between buildings (looking over the edge, there are a lot of these between the buildings.) We’re laughing and having fun and being silly like we used to be and she starts randomly playing with the railing, hopping up on top of it and holding on with both hands (scaring the piss out of me, I thought she was gonna fall) and then hopping back down and turning to me and smiling. Then it looks like she’s gonna try to do it again, only with a 180 degree twist so she can look at me while she’s up there only she loses her grip and actually falls. It takes me a split second to register what had just happened before I’m over the edge after her. Only I let myself hang before I drop to the ground below, where she is laying incapacitated and non-responsive. I kneel down beside her quickly and start doing CPR. I check for breathing first, and then for blood (unfortunately she wasn’t breathing, but she wasn’t bleeding either.) I try frantically to get her breathing again, one deep breath in, three hard pushes on the sternum … it doesn’t work and I finally start to lose my nerve and gather her close to me, petting her and holding her. I kiss her and start to cry and that’s when I wake up.

I have had a vision and the best place I have to record it is in this so-far wretched journal.

It began with a long dream about Jack Wolfe (another of my personas) on various adventures.  I was sutrggling and determined and only marginally successful.  Somehow I wound up in a sea on the coast of some land, the Middle-East and North Africa, or more generally the Mediterrainean come to mind.  Iw as standing on some sort of flat, moving object on the seaward (and port) side of a vessel which was attempted to either moore or un-moore from a dock and I was moving, more specifically I was floating, in the opposite direction of said vessel.  I was either expected aboard or appeared to be in need and so I was thrown a rope.  Only it hung from the freeboard of the vessel to the water, about 10 feet away.  I leaped to it and caught ahold of it, only I was unable to climb it.  My strength was unable even to lift myself, nor could I push myself with my legs for my feet would always slip from the rope.  At this point I realized they would try to hoist me to the deck if I couldn’t make it on my own, at which point I somehow made it aboard.  I stood there taking everything in and everything was tinted with yellow as though I were watching robotic pirates burn a fake village in a Disney Theme Park when a lid exploded into the air from a coffin which I had mistaken for a crate and was lying on deck.  Lying in this coffin was a woman garbed in an elegant black dress without a speck of color about her whole person aside from her eyes which were a startlingly brilliant shade of piercing green which contrasted the sepia-yellow tones of everything around her and even more sharply contrasted with her own colors of pale ivory-white and raven black.  Inside the coffin with her were snakes of the same brown and yellow flames of the setting.  She sat up with no help from her arms and without bending her legs.  I have no recollection of her leaving the coffin as in the next moment she was facing me at my side, snake wrapped about her shoulders.  As she began to speak with a velvety voice and a strange accent I slowly turned my head to the left to look at her.  She was only slightly shorter than myself.

“You have ambition,” she said, “This comes first.  I will give it to you.  Power is first, and wealth follows, and then …”

She said a third thing which I cannot recall.  The last thing I remember is the beauty of the scene before waking.