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Perhaps In My Dreams

Discussion in 'Roleplay Archives' started by Gold Dullahan, Dec 25, 2014.

  1. "A commercial offer?" I quirked my brow, rummaging through the fridge "For what?"

    The phone on the counter is silent and I hold in a sigh. Eggs, bread, leftover pasta— "How do you feel about rental cars? You know, the local—“

    Nope. No. Phone off. Call ended. Goodbye.

    It's 10:20 at night on a weekday. The AC is broken (indefinitely). I'm melting. The most glamorous thing in the fridge is day old pasta. And my best job offer is a commercial for a local car rental. This is… Not what I necessarily expected life to be like at this point. Giving up on the fridge for now, I head back over to my bed. There’s music lightly humming through the walls, probably from one of the other dorm rooms, and it’s better than perusing the internet in silence. For a moment, I consider the gaudy, colorful icon in my bookmarks but— No, it’s pointless. Switching tabs to my email, I quietly examine each new addition to my inbox (there are none, just to be clear). Well… One peek wouldn’t hurt?

    I click on the vibrant little bookmark and hold my breath as it loads. Ah yes, EJZ. (Edges?)

    I see that the chat page has a modicum of activity, even this late at night. The small pop-culture fan-hub isn’t necessarily the best when it comes to content, but they do tend to talk about things that grow obscure, like, sometimes—

    A new message pops up in the chat.

    [10:25] Seedit: found my old copy of Zero Ender Jaegers!

    Oh no.

    [10:25] Crabster: ayyyy lmao
    [10:25] Crabster: i remember that shit
    [10:26] Herby: A real classic video game experience.
    [10:26] Herby: Pretty sure basically everybody in that game ended up in a bunch of bigger projects too.
    [10:26] Seedit: Really?
    [10:26] Seedit: That’s awesome, kind of want to check those out now.
    [10:26] ThatWD: That Dark guy was pretty cool.
    [10:27] Crabster: @ThatWD bias towards sord much
    [10:27] Seedit: LOL
    [10:27] ThatWD: @Herby all the VAs especially.
    [10:27] ThatWd: Except that girl who voiced Gold, I think.

    Oh, no no no no—

    [10:27] Chameleon: @ThatWD I forgot her name but I’m pretty sure her Wikipedia page is basically empty.
    [10:28] Magnolia: I liked her character though. She’s a good support if you have Rose on your team.
    [10:28] Seedit: you just like her as an in-battle sidekick to your favorite character?
    [10:28] Herby: LOL
    [10:29] Crabster: lmao
    [10:29] Crabster: I don’t think she went on to do anything else.
    [10:29] xxSKELLxx: At least not anything big.

    NO NO NO NO N—

    [10:30] Stellar: Her voice acting was pretty solid though
    [10:30] The Chefzato: I agree.
    [10:30] Crabster: i thought it was shit lmao
    [10:30] Herby: @Crabster LOL
    [10:31] Seedit: @Crabster s-so blunt

    Close the tab, close the tab, close the tab— Tab closed. Wonderful. Always fun to see conversations between fans of Zero Ender Jaegers. I sigh and close my laptop. Yes, the voice-actor for Gold… I am she. Unfortunately. My five-minute fame from ZEJ isn’t something I neccesarily regret. It didn’t end up some big name game or anything, but it was certainly well-loved. But those guys were right. Every animator, writer, programmer, every other voice-actor— They all went on to work in better and better projects. And I…

    I got called about a local rent-a-car commercial.

    I don’t even have a Wikipedia page…

    ZEJ’s fanbase had been my second experience of family. It was love and it was home. I wanted my entire career to follow that example, to build up to bigger heights, to mean something, to inspire others— TO NOT BE WITH A RENT-A-CAR, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

    It wasn’t surprising, considering my other experience with family. My first close family experience had been when I was… much younger. They slipped through walls, they snuck in on lonely days; all presumably for me. They were people, real actual people, who stuck around. For a while. If my dreamers, my precious night-time wanderers, had left me… Well, it was only a matter of time with the family I had created with my success. I closed my eyes.

    I smiled— It wasn’t painfully hot anymore! Maybe the AC wasn’t actually broken or something, maybe it was something else? I’m no AC expert, I don’t know, but it’s back and—

    I open my eyes, and very clearly, the AC is not back.

    The park is back.

    Well the park isn’t back. I’ve never seen it before, so it can’t be back, but the point is it’s here. A park. A park is here. A park is here… in place of my dorm room? Lucid dreaming, probably. I hope I remember it enough to add to my dream journal. The sky is gorgeous, first of all. It’s pastel and pink and I LOVE pastel pink and… And it’s peaceful. The clouds are, coincidentally, a light blue.

    Cotton candy sky, I like it.

    There’s a fountain filled with what looks like soft, brown feathers. Wacky, but I think I like it. I turn for a moment to survey the landscape. The trees, the trees! Strange rock formations jut out from various points in the trunk and, to a lesser extent, the branches. The stone comes outwards as a perfect rectangular prism, looking as though delicately chiseled by precise hands...! I turn back towards the fountain for a moment, only to spot something I’d somehow missed: company.

    “Uh… Hi.”
     
    #1 Gold Dullahan, Dec 25, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Feb 18, 2017
  2. Diagrams. Dashes. A tangled web of interconnected lines, jot notes, and commentary. A pen alternating between the lips of its holder and being pressed too hard against the page, casting a long shadow under the light of a flickering lamp with a bulb mere inches from the end of its intended lifespan.

    The pen hesitates.

    For a moment, silence. More furious scribbling.

    Silence...

    . . .

    "I CONCEDE! I've damn well HAD IT."

    I damn near screamed at the top of my lungs. With a roar and a rake of my disfigured hand, I snatched up several of the papers that littered my desk, crushing them and abusing them until they rather resembled a lumpy snowball. My lamp, feeling the vibrations I sent through my desk, shuddered as if threatening to tip right over. The words tormented me; bits and pieces of stories that danced just beyond my reach. Their whimsy was too tantalizing to be pinned down in strokes of ink. It infuriated me.

    My exasperation seemed to have given the neighbours' dog a fright, as I heard barely-muffled barking through the walls that was sure to set the whole building into fits. I always thought I did my best work at night, although it seemed that my "best work" these days included the rousing of the other occupants of my present dwelling. It was scarcely more than a closet, and I was almost certainly overpaying for the space I got.

    I stood from my desk. It would probably end up being another night of the same - that is, staring at my notes until my eyes could take no more. In fact, I swore I could feel the bags underneath my eyes stretching down past my cheekbones. Exhaustion was a hell of a thing with me these days. Might as well turn it in, I thought to myself, Nothing else is going to magically sprout itself from my pen at this hour, anyway. And if that mutt won't shut its gab, I'll never hear the end of it from Mme. Kolshoka. The land lady took none too kindly to being woken up, and my neighbours were almost sure to sell me out as the source of the dog's incessant barking.

    As I tucked myself into bed, I heaved an exasperated, exhausted sigh. Oh, how I longed for the days when my imagination wandered down pathways and corridors that seemed just within reach. Back then, it wouldn't have been so hard to put the pen to the page. Back then, my notes wouldn't have ever been so discordant. Back then...

    Back then, it struck me, I was visited by Others. Oh sure, my days were filled with mundane things. Your typical, run-of-the-mill business. Things like long division and debating my position on the works of Shakespeare. Playing ball with the other kids at school. Those others, my peers, were not the Others-with-a-capital-O that I was remembering only now, in my frustration.

    When I was alone there were... voices. No, more than voices. They were real, genuine people. I had no name to apply to them, so I simply referred to them as my Others; after all, they were the only other people who were permitted in my room after curfew in those days. They spoke to me, words cloying and enticing, always telling me of their world - something implacable. They walked through walls and altogether did not seem to care for the physical world, nor its confines. They seemed more than content to dance through walls and swim between the floorboards. Anything to get back to their world. But whenever I sought out a way to reach them, I wound up with a scraped knee from the hardwood floor, or a bloodied nose from smacking gracelessly into the walls. Inexplicable, of course, to my family and friends. I guess my reputation as a klutz started early.

    I once asked my mother of such a place as where my visitors had come from, when I was just a boy, but she only gave me a puzzled look. And that is me embellishing the description of this look for you; 'puzzled' may be a kinder word than I would have used as a boy, though my remembrance has been blunted by the tides of time. What I do remember is how she chastised me so, telling me, "Bentley, your imagination will be the death of you one day. Why, I suspect you'd wander in front of a bleedin' car thinking of these made-up places and people." It occurred to me then that she thought my Others were something pretend. But to me, they couldn't be any more real.

    Even I would be surprised as an adult, hearing those tales from my youth.

    As a writer I suppose I am, by default, assumed to be embellishing my stories. Particularly when the topic of "imaginary worlds" arises. But I swear to you this: as I nodded off that dreadful night, I found myself in the world of what I had once written off to be my wildest dreams.

    At a glance, it appeared to be a park of some sorts. All sorts of natural growth all around, benches, a pond... but upon closer inspection, I couldn't help but notice the overabundance of feathers that covered the pond's top. Curious... I thought to myself, and stepped closer. I knelt and dipped my good hand into the pond in order to move some of the brown, fluffy-looking feathers out of the way, but upon closer inspection, the pond wasn't merely covered in feathers. Nay, it was entirely FILLED with them. I recoiled my hand quite quickly, in case there was something unpleasant lying underneath. I'd already had enough manual damage for one lifetime, thank you very much!

    This bizarre landscape was something I couldn't quite wrap my head around, but that quickly became the least of my issues. A voice - a young girl's voice - caught me off guard from behind me. "Uh... Hi." I scrambled to my feet, letting out an embarrassing whimpering noise that escaped my lips before I could catch it. She looked harmless enough, but I was still unsure as to why she had addressed me... and moreover, where she had come from. I asked as much, "Wh-whoOO... are you?"

    God, my voice hadn't cracked like that since I was a boy. I put my hand to my throat instinctively, and I realized that I seemed to be missing the stubble that I had been meaning to shave. In its place was smooth skin; a truly foreign feeling. It was only then that I realized that I must've been some eight inches shorter than I was used to standing at. I inhaled sharply, my question hanging in the dead air, hand frozen to my neck as if it were a metal pole in the dead of winter, and my palm was a tongue. I asked a follow up question without waiting for an answer, voice lowered and full of dread for the impending answer, "What happened to my body?"
     
  3. Anyone else might have been scared the day that the eagles came soaring into view, but the sight, the feeling, and the warmth of their copper-eyed gaze and the wind that cropped up around them was always something cathartic to me. Some days, it was hard to imagine my life back home- the metal nightstand beside my bed or how cool it felt in winter months to grab ahold of while waking up in the morning, the way that the sun or the moon's light would come flitting into view between a bamboo-shaded veneer... the inviting touch of my sweetest lover. 

    It was in those times that I remembered, though, that I missed her with such an intensity that I could almost see her beside me in the dreamscape that had inhabited my world for what had felt like ages. Occasionally, something in the feathered sky above would falter, nearly insinuating that one was there to free me of my confines, or otherwise join me amongst my life with the eagles, and it was always a double-edged blade of a feeling. The ratio of chance as it applied to the likelihood of either situation's happening was unknown, and thusly, an even 50/50 shot based upon the lack of information gathered at that time, and while I'd always hoped someone would reach out- to feel my battered heart and to hoist me from this place that was simultaneously a prison and safehaven so that I may live again -I would always fidget, I would always hesitate... You don't want to be in the situation that I am.

    The eagles were brothers and sisters to me, and though they didn't have names that I could particularly discern, they had unique personalities that gave my interactions with them a different feeling of love and security depending on who it was at the time that I was interacting with. Even then, trapped within their feathered halls, it was hard to be grateful even as they fed me the foods of their people for sustinence, bathed me in golden wine and roses, and clothed me in something warm and finer than any earthen material one could imagine so as to keep with the turbulence of the mountain, even as it was produced merely by their graceful behemoth wings.

    But it was today, of all days, that a ripple was seen in the fountain skies above. The five eagles shrieked mightily, in shock and subsequent disturbance, as the malformed hand of a boy came peering through the eternal sun of their mountain. Their feathers, plush and carried by the lull of the wind, moved more violently as the boy dug through the sky, a flowery scent permeating the great expanse of the eagles' domain as they gathered, wings propped, and ready for flight.

    I grabbed onto Horatio's tail feathers.

    My sunshine.

    My warmth.

    There was not a world without Olivia beside me. To wake up from this dream, despite the security, despite being able to hide away from all that could ever have hurt me in the real world, would be nirvana, at this rate. To meet her again, to see her in my arms again after all of this time without... 

    Not even the eagles could compare.

    We flew, and as the hand receded, the eagles began their descent back towards the mountain, but I did not falter. No, I jumped, and when I did, I grew. As the mountainous terrain below me became nothing more than an anthill, the great eagles rescinding to their corridors in sadness and pain for the loss of a brother, I felt no regret. Returning to the world above the fountain was quintessential, and it was now reality. 

    One layer down, perhaps many more to go, but as it were, it seemed as though the Shadows had an opportunity to gather more at the park.

    A young boy.

    A woman.

    And me.

    Naked.

    Something I hadn't noted was that, in leaving the eagles and their commune, I would shed their clothes on top of it! So, here I was, 6 feet of stark nudity, standing before them. With a blank expression on my face, I was pretty damn happy to find both caught in their own conversation as I immediately dashed into the nearby bushes thereafter.

    "Think, Joey, think..."
     
  4. The voice behind Jonno, going by the title Sir Walrus Elton throughout many parts of Zero Ender Jaegers, once pulled me aside and gave me a bit of "insider's wisdom."

    "Soar through life like the great Clanga clanga, and remember... if you see something spooky, it might just be because of one too many fruit snacks. I wish I could just stay here... No, I must go on. Goodbye, Horatio... What, where am I going? I'm actually driving a rock to Istanbul next week, I'll be there in two minutes."

    True to form, he was spotted playfully poking a small boulder he'd somehow brought into the parking lot with his car keys after the final day of recording was over, waving at all our amused coworkers.

    Only an hour later we saw him in something that had blown up on the internet— a picture of him in Istanbul was posted on Instagram by an excited fan with the caption: "just saw @JWalrusHugs coasting by on skates! wish I could've gotten a selfie w/ him but I yelled hi and he started singing Elton John LOL"

    Coasting by on skates, what a very him thing to do. He went on to star in the surprise continuation of a much loved Disney saga, Lion King IV, and even recorded a hit Christmas-y rendition of "Can You Feel The Love Tonight?"

    I went on to see a man shrink into a child's form in what may or may not have been a sudden fever dream.

    Fever dream or consequence of fruit snack gluttony, I wasn't sure which I wanted it to be.

    "You've..." How to put this nicely, gently, elegantly?

    "I think you regressed to the body of a 7 year old." (Perfect.) "13, maybe, depending on when puberty hit you."

    "Nice to meet you?" I crouched low and extended a hand towards the man (boy? imaginary manifestation of my conscious?)

    I guessed, despite all odds, that maybe this man was just not a fan of games. Had never touched one. Never even seen a game station. Never talked to young people. Never seen my name thrown around like some sort of VA cautionary tale on the internet.

    "My name is Fariha? Fariha Soroush."
     
  5. I watched with what I suppose one might call sheer splendor at the scene unfurling before me, despite its idiosyncracies. Now that I was shed from the world that the eagles had once provided so lovingly to me, I realized that such a utopia was not right. We are meant to feel love as much as we are pain - either would feel so trite without the other working in tandem with it! And further yet, Olivia... Her black locks, her sea blue eyes... I would fly to her like Horatio if I could, right in that moment, but first things were first.

    "Where am I? What sort of land is this? Is this real life, or is this just fantasy? I'm caught in a landslide..."

    Miraculously, a grown man had changed from his initial form into that of a small boy, Benjy Buttoning on me right in the flesh. I was glad I was able to catch the bottom end of that, since it helped me realize that, hey, this must be a dream, right? "No escape from reality, though. Maybe these two have some sort of answer..."

    It wouldn't have been my first choice in most cases, but there was not much else there except for green as far as my eyes could see, besides that well that the eagles had guided me into so long ago to feel their warmth. I crept up to them, a little cautiously yet in a way that I would've hoped I could play off as a casual stride. Scratching at some scruff around the backside of my neck, letting myself stretch after so many years of comfort beside the eagles, I shot 'em both some finger guns and said, "H-hey, pallies! H-how's it goin'?"
     

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