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Fermius Firefly

A Dream Log, whenever I remember the dreams I've had.

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Location: San Marcos, United States

Fermius is a pen name drawn from a series of short fiction I wrote when I published the small press magazine Stellanova (on paper.) I play RPG games to escape from my daily grind as a technology wage slave for the state of California. I eat out a lot in order to do my part in supporting our increasingly service level economy. I am butler to 2 feline masters. If you ask them they will tell you I'm not very good at it, late with dinner, don't have enough hands with brushes in them, and sometimes I even lock them out of their office.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Number Obsession, Flying Wing over Poway

Number obsession, tonight featuring: Counting.

1-2-3

1-2-3-4

1-2

1-2-3

1-2-3-4

1-2-3-4

            Why is it topping out at four. I cant seem to figure it out. Counting begins again.

1-2-3

1-2-3-4

1-2

1-2-3

1-2-3-4

1-2-3-4

1-2-3-4

            Finally figured out my brain was counting the cats that were snuggled on me in the darkness. It was a particularly cold evening, and I didn't have my half of the electric blanket on. I don't know why most of them were curled up on me; N did have her blanket on.

 

            I dreamed a giant flying wing over a ridgeline in Poway. White and several stories tall, to judge by the windows on it, it moved gracefully through the sky until there was a bang and a pop from deep within. It kept getting lower and lower. That is when I noticed there were flames coming from the wing, and puffs of smoke that looked like explosions.

            There was a panel truck, three axles, on the top of the flying wing. It flashed its hazard lights. I thought that was somewhat odd. The illustration on the side of the panel truck was as though you were looking into a full server room with all the UPCs, server racks and rack upon rack of switches and wires. The wing angled lower, heading for the houses on the top of the ridge. I raced to the bottom of the hill to get a better view. (The bulk of the hill was in my way.)

            As I ran down the hillside, the flying wing clipped the tops of several houses, but the truck bounced off of the wing and made its way down Frame, where I could only follow its progress by the smoke over the other houses. I managed to get my car around the corner and was heading into town towards Poway road. The Truck pulled out onto Pomerado, the smoke fading to nothing, and I tried desperately to see what was written on the back. There was a combination of green and red-orange lettering. The green lettering, above and below the logo kept changing, or I couldn't make it out. "Weapons" and "Fire" or "Fuel" were a couple that I though I could make out, "Compromise" was another one on the bottom. I could make no sense of the letters of the red-orange logo, however. I was sure they were letters, but the panel truck was swerving around in traffic and pulling away from me as I got caught at the light at 9th street.

"Why can't I read that," I shouted at Sara Prim, who was suddenly next to me. I figured she must have been waiting in the car.

            "Because, this is just a dream," she said.

            "Then I should know what it is without having to read it."

            "No such luck, try harder."

            "I'm trying," and I tried to take the dream over, but when I did I became too alert to maintain the free flow of the dream, and though I knew I could zoom ahead and catch the truck, I also knew the panels would not read the same as they did when I was trying to figure out what it said the first time. (And I also knew that, being a dream, the design may not have actually said anything the first time anyway.)

 

Oh, and this is too cool:

 

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2006/03/0317_060317_dna_nebula.html

 

Ad astra per technica,

Douglas Nicoll

LAN Administrator

ITS Helpdesk 8801 2260

 

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