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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.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Arch Bridge Romance

DROG20110925

I was in the northern Dream City, the one with the highly arched pair of bridges over the bay. In this particular dream I was trying to get a couple together for a walk across the bridge. Tricky part was, they had each been separated from their groups and one was on the lift and the other in the crowd waiting for the lift.

The complication was that there was a large crowd of tourists who were less than polite, they kept cutting one another off, and were loading up the spacing gate in such a way as to create a hazard. Then the park staff would have to clear some of them from the gate, and while that was happening more would show up and demand to all be let on together.

It took me several tries to explain that the park would only let eight to twelve people on at a time, to prevent bridge collapse. This wasn't true of course, it had more to do with the capacity of the lift. (Any number who fit could climb the stairs and then walk across the bridge.) The noisome tourists got out of the elevator and were now in the courtyard arguing amongst themselves in an attempt to make eight to twelve person groups. 

The young man got off the lift so the first group of twelve could all ride together.

This was the opening I needed to get the young man and his (soon to be) woman together, suggesting that they both looked fit and therefore the four flights of stairs wouldn't pose a challenge to them. (And since no one hardly ever takes the stairs, it was actually more private.) The view was also better as the stairs were on the underside of the bridge for the first three quarters of the climb and you could look almost directly down at the ships and the bay below.

The woman asked if I was going to come along. The young man looked properly relieved when I said I had to drive over the bridge, as I lived far to the south. At that point myriad futures seemed to coalesce; I knew that I had succeeded.

I was pretty sure that my presence in the pedestrian access area, when I had arrived in a car, would be enough of a mystery for them to ponder together as they climbed the stairs.

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