Haircuts and Dreams

I woke this morning disoriented, from a dream mostly of running.

It was really a pretty epic dream, upon reflection. It started at a wedding–a very large wedding. Three couples were getting married; I think I might have been among them. We were all dancing something very similar to the dance done to Hava Nagila; the part where you link hands and dance in a circle. This also features prominently in a dance I learned at the ceilidh. For your reference and viewing pleasure:

Alicia was at the wedding as well, with a large number of her family members, including the Montmartes, who were apparently keepers of a powerful and ancient evil. They planned to use the chaos and celebration of the wedding to do something nefarious, which I didn’t understand until Alicia and I were running up a mountain trying to escape from them. I believe they were after me for some skill that I had. It was your standard run-hide-cower scenario, only with better cinematography than I am accustomed to. (Apparently my director of dream photography is working overtime.)

After somehow passing into another realm, we discovered that the Montmartes had been kidnapping people, brainwashing them in some fashion, and using them as slaves. The Montmartes had developed the ability to teleport inanimate objects (furniture, etc), but couldn’t yet do that with people, so to fuel their empire they were kidnapping people with particular special skills from our world. We weren’t clear exactly on their end goal, but decided to stop them anyway, which involved a showdown with a bunch of computers and a redneck. The weapon was similar to a wiimote.

This dream was interesting to me on a number of levels. The first being that my dreams have apparently incorporated Orson Scott Card’s advice (given in How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy) that in good stories, magic/technology has limits. It costs in blood or other dear currency. It’s not infinite–that’s boring. So I think it’s very interesting that this magic or whatever was limited in that it could transport inanimate object, but not people. It makes it interesting.

It’s also interesting that I have been incorporating Alicia’s stressful family situation (stemming from her upcoming trip to Poland) into my nocturnal adventuring.

In other news, I actually went out last night. Alicia, Caoimhe, Kate, Hazel and I walked to the hostel where Aaron lives to have drinks and fun. As we were walking, with Kate, Caoimhe and Alicia leading and Hazel and I mozying behind, I heard something clatter on to the concrete as we passed under a scaffolding on Nethergate. I looked up to see what it was, saw a piece of cardboard that was flat on the ground as opposed to standing up next to the rest of the cardboard, so I assumed it was that. Later it turned out that the clattering was Kate’s phone. I was able to lead her right back to the spot. Situational awareness for the win.

The rest of the process of getting to the drinks and fun was pretty lame. A wretched little scottish brat screamed at me as we were walking past the overgate. He was using some kind of mouth device to amplify the sound and it was pure torture. Not only did it startle me, it was actually painful. If the the little bastard had been just a little closer, or hadn’t immediately dashed off, I would have bloody clocked him. I want to know what, precisely, is wrong with all the teens in this country. I get hassled ALL THE TIME by these horrible little children. It makes me want to massacre everyone in Scotland between the ages of 9 and 18. Being unable to beat the snot out of the rapidly vanishing pipcreep, I instead screamed “I FUCKING HATE SCOTS!” in the middle of the city center. This is not strictly true, and my traveling companions were kind enough to allow me my moment of intense frustration. I like a lot of Scots. I just hate their wretched punky children.

Kate and Hazel maintained that getting a good shot in at the little punk was a bad idea because he’d probably have stabbed me. I sincerely believe the satisfaction of blacking his eye would have been worth the stabbing. After mentioning the stabbing possibility, Kate said, “No, we’re not afraid of the 15-18 year olds in this country, not at all.”

The solution to this problem is involves a lot of brutality, I think. I am totally writing a letter to the Dundee City Council and saying, “You know, I would live here. Except for your wretched little brats that you allow to harrass strangers.”

After that charming little exchange, we dropped in Tesco. I bought a toothbrush and some shower stuff–the other girls bought booze and mixers, and we returned to the hostel.

Alicia settled the girls and Aaron into the games room, and led me upstairs to Aaron’s bathroom to give me a haircut. It was peaceful and soothing, as she snipped and thinned and shaped in the quiet high above the city center. My love for her is unbounded by time and space. It is as infinite and immortal as the wind.

After the haircut, I slid into the most wonderful shower of my life. It was warm and enveloping, and started to wash away the pure stupidity of my entire week and my fury with this country’s youth. It was the first shower of my entire tenure in Dundee that was truly satisfying. I could have stood in there for hours, letting the water pound down on my new haircut and run off my skin (which is rapidly becoming transparent from lack of light.)

Finally in a position to hang out with people, I picked my way down flight after flight of shiny new stairs, then a spiraling flight of old, worn and sloping stone stairs to the game room. We drank sloe gin and tonic and talked of nothing important until I was so tired that I was falling asleep on my own shoulder (padded with Kate’s black fuzzy hat), snuggled on the sofa next to Kate. Kate and Caoimhe are warmth and comfort to me in the cold and dark of the winter here.

Apparently after I took a taxi home, there was drunken yoga, but I am glad for my sleep. I am also delighted that I was bright and shiny this morning, utterly unhungover. Alicia did not have the same luck, so when I ventured out this morning for a new external harddrive enclosure (mine blew up last night) I also picked up a backpack full of hangover food. Cheese, bacon, eggs, english muffins, and orange juice. I also picked up some soy milk to try to make hot chocolate with for my dairy free buddies. We’ll see how that goes.

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Haircuts and Dreams

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