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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, April 10, 2009

Convolution, Con-Joined Calicos

              The first dream I remember from last night is now only snippets and specks. I do remember waking from it and thinking this would make a good novel plot. Too bad I can't remember the plot of the actual dream. I do know there were several factions vying for control of a new breakthrough in gene therapy. A therapy that could almost completely remake a person from the inside out, essentially a sort of immortality machine. In the dream, groups of religious fanatics were threatening the total annihilation of the human race, on the thought that would save the human race from, uh, annihilation.
              I can't believe it made any more sense to the characters in my head, as they were all aspects of myself. (In most dreams I don't consciously realize this, but in this one I did.) I had some pretty nice portable video gear, and a heavy workman's kilt with a matching jacket. Both pieces were able to be electrified in order to make them bullet proof, and simultaneously creating a “don't touch me” or DTM just a few inches around me. Lots of people had DTM's woven into their uniforms and clothing, many of them were walking around in the mall with them turned on. I was not one of them, mine was more for use when working.
              I had a rig in one pocket that contained a hot network connection, and fed a small reader which was like a small plate of glass. I could hold it up and it would overlay the world with information about the items in its purview. People, mostly, had name tags, shops had lists of specials, ads ran along every unpainted vertical surface, all focused on my interests or on the business inside those walls, if they'd paid the proper fees.
              I was actually looking for un-tagged people, as they were typically on the run, and worth finding.
              One of the un-tagged found me before I found him. He rushed me, but my collison detection kicked in and my kilt suddenly grew to robe length, and the DTM field switched to 'Go Away Field.' The un-tagged struck the field with his knife, enhanced to penetrate such fields, but his arm was deflected by the GAF, so the knife went wide. I was grateful he hadn't thrown the knife. His possessiveness was what saved me.
              I pulled a small egg shaped item from my robe and tossed it to the ground just in front of him. Rubbery tendrils lashed through the air and tangled themselves around his calves and feet. He managed to make a few short steps before collapsing to the ground.
              I called a few links up and soon had him completely disarmed (unless he had some hacked or unregistered gear.) I then stood watch over him until the security forces could arrive.
              “Un-Tagged is not a crime,” a young man intoned as he came upon us.
              I looked at the id on the man at my feet. “Murder is, however.”
              “Uh, yeah. Live free of the Machine.” he offered weakly, and then walked away.
              Though he was untagged, I was able to pull up an identification on the young man as he passed by several street cameras. The Trinity Bible College he attended, his class schedule (he was ditching a 'Philosophy of Eastern Thought' class, his home address, an apartment not on campus. As well as several other bits of information about him. I thought he'd have been better off in class, perhaps even learning to be a little less uptight.
              “We are the machine, you might as well try living free from yourself.” I said to no one in particular.

              In the last dream of the morning, I was gifted with four new kittens, a red tabby, a black and white tuxedo cat, and a pair of mostly white calico kittens, who were conjoined by a strip of flesh just in front of the ear of one and the eyelid of the other. They had very short curly fur, tighter than lamb's wool, but very soft to the touch, and other than the fur and their joined condition, they seemed to be normal playful happy kittens. They ran around with their heads close to one another, odd, but you really wouldn't have noticed if you didn't look close or for some time. I was surprised that the kittens hadn't separated themselves as the fleshy strip was quite narrow.
              I bundled them up into a cat carrier. I had to take the top off to get them in without struggling too much. They meowed a bit and milled about while I was screwing the carrier halves together, then finally curled up on atop the other.
              At the vet's they were quite the attraction. The doctor pulled them apart, gently, so as not to ruin the left kitten's eyelid. The flesh stretched to about 6 inches.
              “I'm just going to get some sutures and some local anesthetic, this will only take a couple of moments.”
              Sure enough, there were a couple of shots, some snips, a little blood and a couple of stitches on each.
              When we were done I put them individually in the carrier. They meowed and arranged themselves temple to temple, as they always had.
              “It will be interesting to see how long it is before they start moving about on their own.”
              I agreed, and promised to take pictures to bring with me when we came in for our checkup next week.
              This dream was disturbingly real, the feel of the cats fur I know was the blanket on top of me, and there are always cats sharing the bed with us, but the smells, the light the sounds, including car radio noises, the motor of the car, the springs in the latches of the cat carrier. All perfectly real seaming and normal. The only odd bit was the short curly fur and the short flap of skin joining the kittens. There was just nothing about this dream that screamed dream. The vet and his staff, all the right people in the right roles. Very unusual for a dream that went on that long.

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