A Recent Dream

Chapter Eight, (in progress)

Snow mixed with rain. I was soaked and my sinuses were running. I was in pajamas. I did it. I looked around the village and every path was laden grass. The rain might as well have been drowning me, but I just stood there. I looked around, listening to the hum. Sure, the villagers weren't all that sober, but I'm sure they'll shake their heads when I pop the question now. Soon enough this will all be mine, and I'll be king. I stuffed the shovel into the snow, and embraced my glory. My hands had depressions visible, they were soaked, callous, and numb. Even red. They burned more and more, even when I got to the fireplace in my igloo. I gripped them together, but this only reinforced the sensation. I had outdone myself. Even the tips of my toes were frosted. My cheeks would not warm. I may have even burned myself with the fire a little, without noticing. I placed my hands on my face, which helped warm the cold that pierced my flesh. I eventually managed to get it right, and through the night. The next day, as I awoke and went out, I found that my efforts were in vain for the third time. Snow trickled the paths, alas. I walked out, with the scrunch of snow keeping me company, and the humming townspeople staring as I passed. I made my way to a garden, intent on borrowing the crop and replanting. It had taken me some practice, but I got the gist from watching the villagers in the early days. As I smiled at a villager holding out an emerald, and passed him, I started to take notice of my muscles flexing. My hands were becoming quite something. I was walking back to my igloo to try crafting something for the winter, but as I looked towards the cow pens, I saw something on the horizon. And for the first time in a while, I spoke. "Is that a bird? No is that a plane?" I said. My voice crackled a bit because of my lack of self talk or of a voice in my head. The sun rose, and with it my hope. A line as far as I could see was washing through the sky. Some mega thing. I hoped that they would see the s.o.s. signal, but then they just passed, and I haven't seen them since.

We went to the extent of tailoring suits. The brother in my gaze had spoke of filling the interrogation room with birds and pig step. I gave him one of those looks. "Anything you should warn me," I asked. "Same situation sir," the good cop replied. "We tried evicting the birds from one oh eight, saying, on a rate of one to ten how repressed are you? He asked if it was normal in our culture," the bad cop said while passing by. I walked into the room as the upbeat music kicked and the parrots shook their booty. Over the hours of talk the birds died down in the room. I had to explain the room's conversion from a containment cell as to being why it was so hot. The man was sweating and that seemed to be a let off of these peoples immediate difference. That and we were tan-they were pale. We spoke differently too. The terms, the thought process, the accent, the world view. Yet back in our world that may have been bad, this was another story, like a meetup of worlds. I sat across him on a plain block of wood as did he. I was taking notes. "Okay Sren, to abridge it here: you lost family, was taken captive, brought here according to your will, and are taken captive once more," I said. "And you have more then the common knowledge of your particular region, as you said. How would you say your world is like," I asked. "Everything is busyness. Not personal, except for family matters. Be weary of everyone," he responded. "I see. After a few days, I seem to have gotten the worst of you. I wanna see the best of you. We'll be needing insight on this new realm. We will take care of you. Welcome to our family. Your one of us," I said. I then typed in chat, sending, "everyone, be zealous, for we have a new brother!" I then looked back at Sren. "Business you say? So how reasonable would you say your people are," I asked. "Very," he said. "Good. That means we can convert them all. Let the games begin."

Seventy seven fixed my improvised tie and made, as best I can describe, a tongue clapping noise. "Thanks," I said. "So writing," he said. "What," I asked. "You said your into writing now." I put some thought to it, knowing that from the timeline these clones knew, I'd have been writing the sappy stuff. "What's your favorite genre," he asked. "Well, I'd say family. That's where I really get into the passion," I said. He noticed how off the question was as I had answered. "Wish me luck," I said while nodding him off. I still felt underestimated by many on my passions, but it was to be expected. It's life. But sometimes we just make it hard on ourselves when it's all in the mind. I passed through the little assemblage by the halls and made it on stage. We really had a big group at the funeral. "Alright boys, all I can say is we're brothers! Brothers rock! I know, I could have picked any other pickup line and said anything about the man. This is just too many funerals for me to comment. Please anyone who has it better get on stage. Thank you." I walked back off stage. Yeah no one expected it, not even I thought I'd go down like that. Sure I know, I could have played along. Recently we've been missing that spark, that connection as brothers. I had been thinking it was in a good place. Now I know we need some change. This act would draw some attention back to the right places. I needed a break anyways. They would pickoff where I left off and besides, I still had a murder mystery on our hands. I had to learn all I could about this world we were getting in the cohort with. I could worry about personal esteem, but we had to get the job done and be prepared for this new challenge. It came at the right time too. I'd almost pat myself on the back but being a leader is also its own castellation. It comes with its own burden and regrets. I ordered for Joseph to stay behind, now he's dead. Sometimes it's the thought that counts. Maybe it isn't me who's calling out to God saying why have you forsaken me, maybe it's God who's calling out to me. I just need to listen and spend more time in the quiet. To wonder in ponder and to meditate. Sren had some interesting connections. I had no choice but to trust Sren's word, and I'd bet it right.