The Way Station, Dream City Party

The pump had multiple signs on it, at one time they were bright yellow and red, but had faded considerably since they were first installed. The parking lot behind the pump was nearly full, and the lights on the building atop the nearby rise were all off but a row of LEDs that spilled barely enough light to illuminate the bottom line of a ragged, chipped sign saying "way station."

I knew that the line atop that said "Government" and thought it appropriate that it was now unreadable. The government had long abandoned running the way stations, so they were in private hands, now.

A young family had just pushed their vehicle into a nearby parking spot. The mother was obviously upset, so, even though I knew what the trouble was, I asked anyway.

"My husband thought we could get to my grandmother's house. There was traffic." she held up the family's fuel card, it was yellow, meaning that they could only fuel up every other week. Since it was the end of the month, I assumed they had already used their allotment, and since they'd just pushed the car away from the pump, the husband was making arrangements to either get a ride, or to stay at the way station. They'd obviously been denied a. "compassion" exception.

My vehicle was very efficient, essentially having a little gas engine to charge the electric batteries, and my fuel ration card was red, meaning that I could only access the fuel pumps once a month.

I could only take about two liters, so I had always brought along a large container so I could purchase my full allotment, which was twenty liters. In the past I had always been good about not selling or giving away my fuel. I had a large tank at home on my power generator, so giving away a few liters would only be a misdemeanor, unlike selling any amount of fuel, that was a felony.

The transition to the next dream was interesting, a silhouette walked on, grabbed the edge of the way station, then carried the whole thing off, light still coming from only one upper window. It was as if the way station had just been painted on a background flat.

I was then outside an apartment above the Dream City Mall. There was a loud, and once I could see inside, clothing optional party going on. Well, still not being fully divorced yet, I wasn't ready for those sort of shenanigans. I slipped out the back after saying hello to the people I knew, greeting the friendlier ones I didn't, and even poking my head into a back room where a paper and pencil RPG was being played.

The game master asked if I wanted to take over, but I declined. I found myself out on a balcony overlooking the inside of the mall. I chuckled to myself at how appropriate the view was for the owners. A mall guard strolled by, and we recognized one another. We didn't know one another as a party guest and mall guard, however, but as friendly rivals. We greeted each other, then there was a sort of pyrotechnic wrestling match. I came out the winner, surprising my dark haired, bearded opponent. "But your beard is so short!"

"Yes, it turns out that quality is more important..." before I could finish the aphorism, he lunged at me and ripped out a pinch of my beard!

"We'll see about that! Next time, maestro!" With a flourish of smoke he vanished, leaving the by now forgotten woman on the balcony with me completely flummoxed.

I combed my bear, making sure I wasn't bleeding and that the gap wasn't to large. It felt like he'd only managed to pull a dozen hairs or so.

"He's going to be surprised when he wakes up and doesn't have anything."

"Huh? I thought this was just a dream!" the woman remarked as I woke up I could swear I actually heard her words in the room with me.