Dream within a dream
Started: Sunday, March 3, 2002 07:09
Finished: Sunday, March 3, 2002 08:28
What can I possibly type about it now? Not long ago, it was all there. The entire world -- a night of horrific revelation, character betrayal, treacherous, yet seamless mutation of the reality behind the fabric of life. Enough to fill a volume. I'd be lucky to be able to transcribe it if I typed all day, and even that would be omitting
Now, the only thing left are a few distant, vague shreds, crumbling beneath my mind even as I try once again to grasp one or two of them. [Bitscape briefly switches the light, on and off. Why didn't I think to do that before?] I can't even start at the beginning, because it's just too far away now.
I awoke. I had seen it all. It had been a dream. But it had been so real. A television show? A documentary? A night in search of answers. A night plagued by constant reversals and revelations. Or was it a drama? The devil had reveled himself in all his psychologically merciless, brutal cruelty. I had seen it. I knew the secret. I had to write it down. It would take a while, but I could do it. I just had to focus.
Onto the computer. Get typing, NOW, before it fades away. Still there, but dreams start to fade the instant you emerge from them. I had to get going. I could think all the way back to where it started, or at least where I thought it started. Where the journey began...
Goddammit! Get thee behind me, oh Antichrist of the catchy tunes. Those stupid lyrics did NOT enter the picture until AFTER I woke up. For real. And then, stupid me thinks, "Oh, what a mindlessly appropriate title! Let's use it."
Nothing comes without a price. In this case, it means my brain is now being sucked into the endless repetition, caused by the association brought about by...
That is just so typically me
Oh, baby baby
Oops I did it again
I played with your heart
Got lost in the game
Oh, baby baby
Oops, You think I'm in love
That I'm sent from above
I'm not that innocent
Fuck it.
There's nothing left now but a few momentary images, some intriguing twists whose epic contexts have been forgotten, and that tingling of the spiritual nervous system, similar to the feeling one gets after watching a really great episode of the X Files, but multiplied a few times.
It started as a trickle, but the words began to flow. I relived it again as I put it into words. The ascent up the dark mountain. The pact. WHO was the betrayer? I filled in every detail I could think of, going on endlessly so as not to lose the essence of any moment. I had barely made it through the first act, when I began to wonder...
How much was being altered in this process of reliving and writing down these words? Was I adding scenes? Could it be that some parts of my mind were confabulating different paths of execution?
Wait a minute! This chase didn't happen in the original version! And who was that TNG character, really? Had I just invented an entire storyline from scratch? Couldn't be avoided, I suppose. "But really, let's try to keep it on track with whatever it was I really dreamed, ok? There will be time to make up other stories later."
But right at the first climax, something had been missed on the first pass! It wasn't what you thought it was at all. While you were looking at what was going on in the caveroom, as the characters merrily went about their way to resolve the mystery's first secret, out in the thunderstorm, the cloaked adversary was battling desperately to prevent the truth from getting through. Did he succeed? I fear he did.
She was running with all her strength. She had found the missing evidence. Now it was a dash down the trail, to break the news to the rest of the party. The lightning flashed out of the dark sky. (But was there really a storm, or did that little dramatic enhancement get added in the post-production of consciousness?)
He was going to stop her. He had to protect his evil secret. It was the only way. Anything else would mean total obliteration. Angrily, with every bit of supernatural strength he could conjure, he threw obstacles in her path. She would NOT get through. The struggle went on.
The faces changed. The objectives were lost. Everyone was left to wander, trying to discover that which they had already found, but forgotten about. Were they going to gather in a church, like the underground catacombs beneath the Worker's City under the metropolis? But there, they would again be deceived, setting in motion the eternal path of ignorance to conclude the final act of the drama.
There was more in between. I could remember, but I just had to keep typing. No worries if I went off on a tangent here, or a side story there. Just so I got the whole thing, beginning to end. It would be worth it, even if I had to sit and type all day. It was still all in my mind.
But something wasn't right. I hadn't flipped the lightswitch. Things were starting to fade away faster than I could access them. It was all crumbling. I had to keep going though. Maybe the whole of it could still be pieced together, even if a few details were lost here and there.
But I couldn't. I couldn't hold it together anymore. Down the drain. Maybe it would return though...
Light was coming in through the window. Shocked and riveted, I looked at the clock. 0701. I closed my eyes again. My brain sunk in and out. The dilemma was overpowering. I realized that I had two choices: I could go back to sleep, and thus have some chance to return and find it again. If I did that, I would ultimately forget what few tiny remnants that were left, fleeting in my mind. My other choice was to get up, and begin the futile task of trying to transcribe it into my computer. Again.
I relaxed for a few moments, trying to trace back to what had been. Already, most, if not all of it, was lost. There was no returning. Remembering even a fraction of the entirity of it would be impossible. I tried anyway.