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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, January 05, 2007

Giant Cowboy, Riding Horses Uphill

            The posse rode for several hours and finally caught up with the Giant rustler. Giant as in size, he had to be 15 feet tall. The Posse’s guns were useless. I didn't even bother to shoot at him as I KNEW my guns would be useless. The giant managed to trap the posse in a cave. The giant wanted to confiscate everyone's guns. I managed to talk the giant out of taking mine, as my gun had never left the holster. The giant decided to let me go, and let me keep my gun, mostly because I was the only one who talked civilly to him.

            I then worked at getting him to let the other cowboys go. We must have palavered for half an hour or more. I reasoned with the giant, admitted that he had a point about folks shooting at him being a bad thing, but pointed out that rustling cattle was also bad. After talking and reasoning with the giant, he agreed to turn over the cattle, and let the posse go. I got him to agree to come into town in a week or so and turn the guns back over to the sheriff. We would then find him a real job to do so he could afford to buy his own cattle. I was thinking he’d make a hell of a deputy.

 

            Not related to the previous dream, other that I was riding a horse. I was trying to make my way up over a fairly steep ridge of loose gravel or loamy soil. The horse seemed to have good footing, but at some point the gravel would slip and we would slide down the hill. I was trying to follow several others who were having the same problem, though their horses never slipped all the way back down the hill like mine. I decided to give up on following them straight up the ridge and started zigzagging up the hill, making my own switchback trail. This worked, and we actually made it up the hill just behind the last of the group I was following. I think my horse was less tired than they were, even though we’d gone much further.

 

Ad astra per technica,

FF

 

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