recent dreams

[fuchs]

The Last Technicians

I was a young boy, scrawny and purposely dirty, listening to the townsfolk chatting excitedly at the medieval marketplace. There was talking about the dragon, that someone had finally slain it. I really didn't like the direction the discussions were taking, and yes, after a very short time people armed themselves with whatever they had, old, notched swords, rakes and scythes, just in case the tale was wrong, and went to look after the cave, for maybe there were huge amounts of treasure to be found.
I ran ahead, through the tall mountains and steep valleys, to get there before them.
I usually didn't take the shortest way, favouring the safest whenever possible. But now I had to dodge into the cave, find the small entryway, jump over the deep, dark crevice and only take the safe stones to get over the shallow water. The system had started the sound effects the moment I had snaked through the narrow entry, now the light and the fake fog started. The dragon was late *again*. I really hoped someone was on watch, so I hollered to the nooks where the cameras where hidden that the townsfolk came to look for the supposedly slaughtered dragon.
Then I jumped into the creepy, slimy hole and was already ditching the disguise, while finally someone started coming into the main room.
The stone had a warmer colour in here, the sun falling in through the skylights high above. We never could get rid of the dust, so I did not like watching how it danced through the beams. But it was home. Computershredding dust, half broken toy cars and all.
The old guy with the short grey beard came first, drying his hands on a rag which he then threw onto the dingy but very comfortable couch. What's the racket, he wanted to know. I threw my hands up and told him, panicking a bit. The young woman with the long, dark haired curls came in from the computer room, lifting her goggles and then proceeding to make tea on the old lab desk. The old tea, pre-packaged, only for special occasions, because when we would run out, there would never be new teabags.
Maybe we should tell them, she said. I asked if she were mad, and greybeard told her, very seriously, that only because we had grown up with the comforts of the computer age, we still were the last ones.
No new parts for hundreds of years now. No new teabags, chocolate bars, skylight glass, sofa cushions, toy cars.
And all this, he said, it makes them scared. We tried, again and again, and every single time we failed. They don't see the world with our eyes, they don't know half as much as we do, and they're too afraid.
I screamed at them that the dragon's rails probably were stuck again and that we had to DO something! So she went to take a look at the cameras to evaluate the situation, while greybeard told me to shut off the emergency tube, so there would be no way for the townspeople to come into the main room. I immediatley did it.
They're looting, redhair called, still quite relaxed. 
My mother, a woman with short, blond curls came in from the direction of the main entrance, where the part was that looked like a house jutting out of the mountain but wasn't visible from any point reachable for humans without helicopters.
She hugged me and took me to get some cookies in the low-ceiligned kitchen, which had gas and electricity and even a coffee machine, though the beans had run out four hundred years ago. The old, cracked tiles came from all over the world, white and dark blue, rusty red and bright blue, telling stories nobody could interpret correctly anymore. There was a wood stove, too, warming the room.
She sat me down and smiled. Wait till the others come. This here may be *your* first time getting scared by them, becoming afraid they might discover us, but the others have tales, oh man, we had *really* narrow escapes there sometimes. And your great-grandfather, who rescued the medical unit from the sunk city by the coast, well, you know the story. Shall I tell you again, honey?

Two witches

I was a young girl, I had the tiny white dress, the basket and even the trusty, yellow dog. Don't go there, he said, that's where the land of the fey begins. I looked up and although the next trees where quite a bit distanced from us, there was a treeless roof of leaves above us. Well, I fear we've already crossed the line I said. Then we have to get back, my tiny dog barked. We looked behind us and we could still see my parents' farm.
I frowned and said, no, my gut tells me to go on.
I do hate your gut, the dog growled, but since he was trusty he encompanied me.
The forest grew darker very soon, and if you concentrated you could see that the trees didn't have any roots, growing from midair.
There was a clanking sound in the distance, and we stilled, both very afraid of Baba Yaga and her big cauldron in which she would boil us alive. We could see a glimpse of her, flying through the treetops. She laughed manicly and flew higher, obviously away from us, and at high speed. So we could walk on, never leaving the path, of course.
And I was thinking frantically. Don't leave the road. Don't eat, don't drink, don't take any gifts, don't make any bargains, what else, what else? Where there other rules? Don't leave the road....
The road lead through corn fields, others were walking with us, marketeers on their way to the town. One very nice woman asked if we would like to take a ride on her straw cart. The dog liked her, but I saw a pathway through the corn and said thank you, but no, my gut tells me to walk through the corn. My dog didn't like that one bit. Girl, he barked, then we're leaving the road after all! Yes, I said, to walk a different one.
He grumbled, but he came with me, and the moment we stepped between the corn, he changed into a bee, buzzing irritatedly. I did him the courtesy of stiffling my laughter. We were in a serious situation anyway. Someone had hung sheets between the high corn plants, to "help" defining the path, but they were misleading. When we deviated from their path, we found out that it was a veritable labyrinth. I wasn't scared, my gut still gave me directions, but my bee would have really liked to complain, I bet.
We reached a grove, in which we met the two witches. Well done, they smiled. No we can drive home!
There was a yellow haired woman with them, looking about as confused as my bee. I smiled back. They were beautyful, with long hair or short hair, blond or red, blue eyes or green, wide smiles and fair skin, and both absolutely identical.
They invited all of us into their carriage, which really was more of a kitschy rocket, and whoosh! we drove to the high mountains.
The yellowhaired woman was a bit disheartened when she saw all those white and blue mansions on one mountain far away from any other settlement. Which one is it?
Only one, the witches said. But we have to climb to all of them, because they'll want us to touch them all. All, I asked? How will we ever be able to do that?
Well, I for one, said one of the witches, am a very good climber. What about you guys? Bzz, my bee laughed. I'll just fly.

[[And since my brain always tries for consistency:]]

Elm trees remain

I'm telling you, one technicians tells the other, the two witches are building houses on our mountain!
And he shows him the digital pictures he's made.
Yeah, you're kidding me, the other says.
No, I'm not! And they have a rocket to drive around in!
Yeah sure, the other one snorts. As if anyone on this earth has the technology left.
Well, says the first one and folds his arms, we do, don't we?
The other one hesistates, looks at his poster from the first man on the moon and asks: But... where are the houses now?
The go away when they touch them!
Now you're kidding.
I wish I were. But see here?
And he shows a photo.
There's the cavity of the cellar, and here, you can still see the canalisation connects!
They're looking through the photos, both not saying a word.
Then the first technicians says, silently: And see here, there is an elm tree at the side of every house, and when the house disappears, the tree remains.

Comments

[teylen.livejournal.com]

Ich mag das erste Drittel... das 'the last technician'. Wobei ich dabei ein irritierendes Gefühl der Vertrautheit habe... so wie schon mal gelesen oder mal irgendwo gesehen, gehört. Beim Lesen entstanden sofort Bilder dazu in meinen Gedanken. Und das ganze verlangt bei mir danach als etwas Größeres erzählt zu werden. Viel mehr als die anderen beiden Teile danach...

So etwas verwirrt mich immer irgendwie...

... und...

... und ich hasse es, wenn ich meine Gedanken nicht ausdrücken kann.

Ich würde gerne ein Bild dazu versuchen... aber so wie ich meine Motivation und das Vertrauen in meine Fähigkeiten kenne, wird das leider wieder nix.

[fuchs.livejournal.com]

Stimmt aber, der Junge hatte viel von dieser einen Zeichnung von dir, mit der Strasse in sehr dynamischer Perspektive gezeichnet. :D Ist ja witzig.
Und vielen Dank. :)

[al-pha.livejournal.com]

I really like your dreams.. or the way you tell them. They have all something in common...hm... either it is because of your way of telling them or I sometimes think it is a background far in the distance of all these dreams one is aware the whole time...
Anyway, I thought again that you should really collect these dreams and publish them as a short stories (/"fragments" or whatever you want to call them) collection. I would certainly buy it and read it over and over again.

[fuchs.livejournal.com]

Huh. Uhm, thanks. I'll write in on the Income Opportunities List. XD

[fusselbiene.livejournal.com]

1000 Nächte, 1000 Leben.
Ich liebe deine Träume - und das Buch würde ich ebenfalls kaufen und immer wieder lesen. Und die jugendfreien würde ich meinem Nachwuchs zum einschlafen vorlesen. ^^

[fuchs.livejournal.com]

Vielen Dank! *freu*

[vout.livejournal.com]

Deine Träume sind so schön entspannend...