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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, August 28, 2009

Red Dress, Goodbye to Pretty Pretty Purina

        I dreamed that N and I were getting ready for an outing. She had a lovely red dress that was cut down to her navel. Every time she bent over I could see her cute little breasts. I was enjoying watching her get ready, trying on different earrings and necklaces. Bending over to try on different shoes. I almost suggested that she might not want to wear that particular outfit, but figured that she knew what she was doing.

        The  night before I dreamed N and I were out in the garage, telling the garage kittens that they should come inside, where it was much more comfortable. I was especially trying to convince our Pretty Pretty Purina, who was being exceptionally affectionate (she was our most skittish cat) but she was insistent that the garage was fine with her and rubbed us both up and down.

        Yesterday morning, Purina was lying dead, stretched out as though sleeping, next to the food bowls.  Her twin brother Ralston wandered in figure eights around the floor for almost an hour while I sat and cuddled Fawn (also her littermate) and Ginger. I am sad that we were never able to convince Purina to live inside with us, though we did finally get to the point where she would sit in our laps for pets and cuddles.

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Wednesday, August 19, 2009

George Washington's Cats

        I dreamed that I was visiting Mt Vernon, and as we strolled the grounds I pointed out the very elegant looking long tails on the local cats. The guide informed us that they were the descendants of George Washingtons cats. The more than a dozen tourists, clad in bright polyester colors with binoculars, cameras and water bottles hanging from around their necks, some with all three, muttered in approval.

        I remember thinking that, after 200 years, if any cats were descendants of GWs cats, nearly all of Virginias feral cats could make the same claim with as much sincerity.

        Someone asked, Can we see the cherry tree Washington chopped down?

We moved on, and I just smiled and kept my thoughts to myself.

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Monday, August 17, 2009

Warehouse Climb, MeOWW!

              I dreamed that I was climbing around in a large warehouse. There were only a few working lights in the place, but those were all clustered at the far end of the warehouse from where I was. I wanted to get up to the offices which ringed the warehouse on a platform about two flights of stairs up. Unfortunately I couldn't find those flights of stairs. I put on my yellow hazard suit, and started climbing the warehouse shelves near where I could see the catwalk that ran between the offices. (It was really too narrow to call it a hallway, and it was open on both sides except for its short handrail.)
              I had to rearrange the boxes of stock on the shelves as I climbed so that I would have places to step. I was concerned, at first, that I would tip the shelves over, but as I climbed I was able to make out that the shelves were attached across their top ends to one another, like a giant box. There were also stays that stretched up into the steel girders of the ceiling. I found that I could use my cell phone as a light, although it wasn't as good as it could have been, as I have a fairly dark background. (Warner Brother's Marvin the Martian.)

              I was in the middle of another dream with wild theme music and vibrant jungle green colors when T-Rex jumped up on the bed, and nicked my nostril with a claw as he did so.


Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Princess Tiger Lily, Extra Room, N Cutting Up

        I had a rough night getting to sleep, and then some emotional dreams. The first was that Princess Tiger Lily had come back to visit. Her rough fur and loud purr are very different from the other cats. She came and snuggled up under my arm against my side and got face rubs and pets for several minutes. She didnt seem to be bothered by the fact that shed been dead almost two years, so I didnt let it bother me after a couple of moments. 

I woke up from that dream, well, I dreamed I woke up from that dream to find than N was getting ready for work. She was trying to be quiet, and didnt have any lights on. I noticed, however, that there was light coming from behind the shelf of the closet. The thin shaft of light was hitting me directly across the eyes, so I got up to see what it was.

A thin line went from floor to ceiling in the closet, like the edge of an open door. I pushed on the wall, and it opened up like a door. There was a small room with an overhead light in the ceiling, much like the light in our entry way. There was a small window and an exterior door.

I pushed my way past my clothes and into the small carpeted room. It had a closet, and the floor was carpeted in a dusky rose carpet (Like what was in the house when we moved in.) There was some sun fading in an arc where the sun came through the small window, which seemed to be mostly shuttered off.

N, did you know this room was here? I called out into the bedroom. N didnt respond. I poked my head back through my clothes, to discover that N had left the room. It looked like I was still sleeping in the bed. I turned back to the room, there were now a couple of toy chests in the room, one black and one red, about the size of the orange/brown toy chest that is up in the garage rafters. I opened the door, half expecting it to open into some other world, but no, it was just our back yard. The door closed behind me and vanished.

I ran around to the front door and came in the house, asking N, again, if she knew about the room behind our closet.

Youre dreaming.

No, its there, come look, I took her by the hand and lead her back into the bedroom. The door in the back of my closet was open enough to see the light coming through. The room was full of red and black ceramic bathtubs and toilets this time.

See, I told you, you are dreaming.

And I knew I was dreaming, so struggled to wake up to tell N about the funny dream I just had. N was still making her way around the room getting ready for work, or so I thought. I heard the sound of scissors going. I sat up, asking What are you doing?

C needs some stuff to sew, and I wanted these pants patched for a steam punk costume.

I noticed that N had cut holes in the pants, and was now cutting apart one of my show paintings for patches.

You could have sewed the patches over the whole pants, you didnt need to cut holes in them.

I pulled the canvas out of her hands to see which one she was cutting apart.

You dont have to yell at me!

I wasnt yelling. Go ahead, I thought Id tossed this years ago, I handed back the painting.

You arent mad at me?

Not for that.

What then?

I grumbled that I didnt want to talk about this in bed. N got out of bed.

I admitted that I was unhappy about her more frequent stoner stunts and that I needed more sex.

Why do you always turn arguments into whats wrong with your life?

Um, you asked? Was apparently the wrong answer. N stomped out of the room, flinging the painting against the sliding glass door. Our blinds slowed it enough that it didnt break the glass.

I laid back down. As soon as my head hit the pillow I realized that N was getting dressed, and that I was dreaming, still. It was weird, for a moment I was on my back and on my chest at the same time.

It took a couple of moments to realize that I was really awake.

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Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Trains, Again.

              I dreamed again of trains. This time I was sitting up on the observation deck, looking out over a vast blue-green forest full of dark purple shadows. Some of which were moving under their own power and not cast by any visible creature. As the car clicked and rocked along the rails I was so startled to be on the rails again that I didn't bother to notice any sort of plot or character. There was only the clicking, the rocking and the seemingly endless forest on either side of the rails. Oh, and me thinking, “I'm dreaming of trains again.”

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Sunday, August 02, 2009

Train to Nowhere

              I dreamed I was on a train going to a distant way station. The way station was used as a destination only on rare occasions because it was supposed to be a secret. You couldn't buy a ticket for the train. Only two ways on, accident (which is apparently how I boarded) or approval from the highest circles of power. Once on the train, it runs its route picking up passengers and freight, but never letting anything or anyone off. This was a one way ride.
              It didn't take me long to realize that I had missed my train and boarded the wrong one. There were no other passengers in any of the three passenger cars. Some of the seats were filled with silver briefcases, each of them chained to the steel supports of the seat in front of them. The driver's compartment was locked, but I could see no one in the driver's compartment through the small window. I walked back to the first freight car, looking at it across the platform at the back of the last passenger car. There was no "Wild West" passenger entrance on the end of the freight car. The wind roared past the open platform and I could feel little gusts of turbulence in the space between the cars. I walked back to the forward car and climbed up into the top of the car, sitting so I could see out of the narrow un-tinted windows in front of the train.
              I could tell we were nearing our destination when the train began to slow. Midday had given away to afternoon, then evening, and just had handed over to star filled night when the train bumped and rattled its way on to a much disused siding, every set of wheels sparking as they crossed the switch. I could see the siding dip below the level of the surrounding desert, and then we passed under a low stone arch and were completely underground for several moments.
              When we emerged from the tunnel at a slow crawl, I could plainly see hundreds of old military vehicles, planes and even boats of every description, at least what would fit on a flat car. In the distance were several block style warehouses and even a row of what looked to be apartments. Many cargo containers sat in double high rows, stretching away in dozens of streets and alleys all under some sort of camouflage net. I spotted what looked like a large satellite dish, and a pair of radar domes atop tall poles. It looked like there were missile batteries scattered throughout the depot. Some were armed, some were not. Still, I didn't see a single person. The train arrived at a small station. I looked for anyone to ask where I was, and when could I get back to my planned trip. The station was empty. The engine of the train spun down and save for the popping and groaning of cooling metal, the place was silent. Starlight, I figured out, was the entire source of light out here save for the bluish glow in a couple of windows in distant buildings.
              I turned to navigate my way to the lower level of the train, and found the interior to be pitch black. I made my way by touch and when I arrived on the lower level of the train, by the lit windows in the distance. The doors off the train were closed and apparently locked. There was no emergency button or crash bar that I could find. I plunked myself down in an empty seat near a door to wait for morning, and hopefully, the people who would come to remove the silver cases. I drifted off to sleep and was immediately surrounded by three lovely women. They tried to pull me off the train but were incorporeal, and unable to move me, or affect the doors of the train. And though they were attractive, there was an odd tingle that told me that I wouldn't really want to go with them anyway.
              Just at dawn, I heard a whirring noise and looked out over the station, small silver disks, glowing from some internal source floated across the platform towards the freight cars. I felt a bump as they were uncoupled, and smacked myself for forgetting that the platform door was open. I could have climbed out of the car at any time.
              I raced to the platform and stepped out as the line of freight cars rolled back away from us, then, improbably, were lifted off the rails one at a time by the six food wide silver disks and carried away towards either the warehouses or the city of cargo containers.
              "Hello!" I shouted out to them.
              Every one of them stopped where they were, seeming to be coming to some sort of decision. Most resumed their courses, but two of them set their cargo containers down and raced over to the passenger car where I stood. One silver disk stopped directly overhead and the other stopped level with the platform. Each disk came to a tapered edge, and really did look like two saucers together. There were no lights on them or markings of any kind. Air moved over them as though they were spinning, even though there was no visual indication that the surface was moving.
              "I think I boarded the wrong train in San Diego. Do you know when I can head back?"
              Again I had the distinct feeling that the disks were conferring with one another. If they weren't alive, they were controlled by someone so completely that they were able to convey a sort of confused and almost alarmed body language.
              "Don't worry, I'll just wait here. I'm not that hungry yet, the bathroom is clean, and there are comfortable seats."
              I got the impression they wanted me to 'stay right were I was and don't move!'
              "I can stay right here, but eventually I will have to use the restroom. Who were those women who visited me last night?"
              That caused both disks to wobble. I could feel a near panic in their motion. The one hovering over the end of the car raced off towards the small row of apartment buildings.
              I spoke quietly of how I had boarded the train in a rush in San Diego, thinking I had missed the train to Carlsbad. The platform had not been well lit and I may have transposed some numbers, "I do that from time to time, and more often when I'm tired. You're not from around here, and by here, I mean earth, are you?"
              The silvery disk actually backed away from the platform. Other disks began to arrive with empty flatcars, delicately placing them on the rails and linking them back up, but far away from the part of the train I was on. As each one finished they flew closer to where I was speaking to my guard. They stayed a considerable distance back from me. I was positive that even if they were craft of some sort, the minds controlling them were powerful in non-human ways.
              I introduced myself.
              They all froze in place.
              "I don't know if you're actual beings, or a vehicles controlled by beings, but I can tell you aren't homo sapiens, perhaps not even homo anything. Regardless of what happens to me, I want you to know that I'm delighted to have met you."
              I was bombarded by an odd mix of emotions: curiosity, friendship, worry, delight, concern (for me), and an overall sort of wistful feeling. Some of the emotions were shared amongst the group and some were individual.
              I found I had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch them, to hug them. To just gather them in my arms and hold on to them. The universe had coughed up other intellects, and they were here, working in a secret rail yard. I thought that was a little anti-climactic, but decided it just added to the mystery. Most importantly, I wanted to help them, and I could tell, they needed some help, though not the sort I could likely provide.

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Saturday, August 01, 2009

Theatric Spirits

              I dreamed of trains with split spirit riders, part of them was on one car and another part rode a different car. Talking to a spirit involved moving from one car to another and trying to get the parts connected.
              Later I dreamed I was in a large dark hall with hundreds of metal theater style seats. The metal seats were black and they had the remains of black and red fabric cushions on them. The sound system was similarly old. I had it working for the first part of a presentation, a lecture of some sort, the topic is now long forgotten. My audio engineer had gone home, ill, so I had run the sound board while calling the light and effects cues.
              I took a break, heading out into the dilapidated lobby for some water and a cookie. I talked with a couple of my lighting technicians and we were commiserating on the delicate state of our electric system when all sorts of strange feedback noises arose from the auditorium. I handed one technician my water and the other my cookie.
              I raced back into the auditorium to find that a couple of young theater board members had taken it upon themselves to re-patch the sound system.
              “What have you done?” I asked, working hard to remain polite.
              “We didn't do anything.”
              “I need to find out what was changed, or it's going to take me a considerable amount of time to trace out what needs to be re-wired, repaired or replaced.”
              “Can't you just make some adjustments to make it right.”
              “Only if it wasn't re-patched.” I reached over and turned the main amplifier off, then turned off the mixing board and adjusted all of the channels to reduce their output gain. I quickly noticed that the back of the board where the inputs were had been re-patched.
              “There are different types of input from the items on the stage. I didn't patch this show, and the engineer who did, didn't leave any notes as to what was patched where.”
              “Does it matter?”
              “Yes, there is a mix of line, stereo, and preamp signals coming from the stage. Not to mention different output assignments for each of the monitor channels. There are also a couple of haunted channels that we try not to use for certain types of inputs.”
              “Haunted channels?” the young board members were incredulous.
              “Not literally haunted, just broken in such a way that you don't use them for women's alto or soprano voices or for high pitched instruments. Likewise there are some channels that won't properly process a preamp signal. There's a couple that won't output to certain monitor channels.”
              We stood looking at one another, they realizing that this was more complex than they'd thought. Me waiting for one or the other to admit to changing things around, or contacting the person who'd changed things. It soon became obvious to me that they weren't going to confess, or lend a hand in fixing the mess. I pulled out my cell phone and started to call the sound designer. The board members stopped me.
              “This is going to cost extra, isn't it?”
              “Maybe not, the designer was supposed to leave a patch diagram for us, and it looks like he didn't, or at least not where I can find it.”
              “We really didn't touch anything. It was all flying around when we walked in here.”
              “Kind of like that,” the other pointed over the short wall that separated the booth from the rest of the house.
              Out in the theater, cables for lights and sound had been unplugged and were waving all over the place. Theater patrons were falling over themselves to get out of the way. I saw an old Fresnel flood dragging across the front row of seats by its cord, which was making snakelike strikes against a young woman who was trying to force the large man in front of her to go faster. I reached for the main power and turned off the electric grid to the stage. The theater was plunged into darkness, save for the modern battery powered emergency lights. I could see several glowing shapes hovering over the stage and the front rows of seats.
              “I think you just found a new advertising slogan.” I noted.
              “What's that?”
              “The most haunted theater in the west.”
              I stepped out of the booth to go negotiate with the spirits. I had the feeling they weren't really happy with the content of the previous lecture presentation.
              “Hey guys, do you prefer musicals? Well that would have been up next, if everything hadn't been unplugged.”
              The wires stopped moving and the Fresnel cord relaxed from around the woman. I helped her to her feet. “I've only got half an hour to get everything back in place. Any idea how I might accomplish that?”
              The board members suddenly burst out of the control booth, shouting that “It's happening again!” I realized that things were being fixed, but still wondered what had triggered this never before malevolent display.
              “I'm not coming back there!” I heard a tinny disembodied voice. I was worried for a moment until I realized it was coming from the cell phone in my hand. As I raised my hand to ask about the patch diagram a part of the front of the stage fell away into the orchestra pit to reveal a very old and probably forgotten sub patch panel. The frayed wires and loose patch cords could easily explain the quirky nature of the sound system. There was even a series of old phantom power units along the bottom of the unit, some still churning away, and some long broken down.
              “Thank you,” I said to the spirits on the stage, “We'll get these fixed as soon as this show makes its bills.”
              “But, we're going to close the theater after this show.” One of the board members whispered in my ear.
              “If you don't shut up about that in here, you won't have to wait.” I told her, understanding what had ticked off the spirits.
              “If I had enough money I'd buy this place myself, it's really got tons of potential.” I said out loud. As I walked away from the board member I spotted a spirit flapping open a door I'd never seen before, a door that had been wallpapered over and sealed for who knows how long. The door lead down two flights of steps and into a practice room. There was no safety light in there, so I had to use my flashlight. The dust covered a mirror and bar, the floor was light brown. An old upright piano whose cover had rotted away sat in one corner. There was another door across the room, which I noted was the same size as our stage. The spirits swirled and dust gently wafted into the air behind them. I opened up the room, it was a small office, complete with old typewriter, fan and waste basket. The desk drawer shivered and rattled. I opened it.
              The deep drawer was filled with silver dollars, the top ones were dated from pre-civil war and were older the deeper into the drawer I looked. Another drawer contained stock certificates, dry and cracked, but presumably still valid. There was another door, and that led to another flight of steps. There was a bedroom and small water closet. A tiny slim window looked out over the garden, half of which had been sacrificed for more parking several decades ago. I'd thought this window just one of several decorative windows along the side of the building, and had no idea this room, or the practice room were even here. Now that I knew, I realized this was the mirror image of the music recital room and what we called the music director's office on the other side of the theater. The entrances were just in a slightly different place. (I'd though the old boilers and such were down here, long sealed off and unused.) I looked across the desk at the glowing spirit forms, behind them was a mirror, brown with dust, but still usable. In the mirror I saw myself with a tophat and tails. Three men stood around me, pointing to the coins and the certificates, and finally me.
              I woke up with chills running up and down my spine.

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