Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so real, that when you woke up, it felt like falling asleep? That the waking, breathing world that we bustle to and from was fake, and what you saw in your dreams was what was really happening? The dreams were so close to reality that it almost made sense that I was simply living two lives, just one in my dreams and one when awake. You feel as though you're aging twice as fast, gaining twice as much life as everyone else. You feel like you're thirty at twenty, forty at twenty-five. If wasn't for the fact that your body needs sleep on occasion, I would stay up as much as possible. To experience dreams that real while asleep, to feel as though you're acting out someone else's life, but to wake up to your own life to live, its draining.
In fact, I don't remember much of my childhood. My first real memory was of when I was six. I was laying on the grass, just looking up into a tree that held my tree fort. Actually, I remember it so well, that I can still recall my line of thoughts - Where am I? I'm looking around, And I see the tree fort. I latch onto that. It's my tree fort. I play in it every day. Why do I hurt? Why am I on the ground? Did I fall? I don't think I fell. I can't remember. Where's mommy? I can't get up, it hurts to breath. Is the tree fort going to fall? No, but someone's screaming now. It's loud. Mom? Is that you? Mom? MOM?
"Mom?"
"Its ok, I'm here, I'm here"
And I'm being held by my mother. The wind blows a little, as mother holds my head. I try turning my head to look at her, but she holds me still and tells me not to move. I stop trying to move after that. There's leaves falling from the tree that my tree fort is in. Big leaves, floating down gently on a cushion of air. I try to imagine what it would be like to be like one of the leaves, to gently float down, but then my head starts hurting, and I forget about it. After a while, I remember men in costumes came to get me. They put me on a weird bed in a van, and then when they pulled me out, we were at a hospital. I didn't know then what one was at the time, just that it had hurt people there, and that I must be just another hurt person.
From there on it becomes a blur, my memory fragments, and its not until my teen years that I really start remembering things again. I used to have these wicked dreams though, dreams where it felt like I was awake, but then I would wake up. It was always dreams about this one guy, being this one person. I went to school as him one time even. That was the day I stayed home and slept all day because I was really sick in junior high. It was just something really strange. I came up with a name for him even - Peter. Peter Holding. I gave him my last name because it was like I was him when I fell asleep. I thought though that Peter was a cool name, and so I just used it. It took a while, but then the people in the dreams that I met started calling me Peter, and so it stuck.
Then I got done with school, and I started going to work. I was going to go into counseling, but I finally discovered I just didn't feel comfortable talking to strangers about their problems. I had always been told I was a great listener, and so I thought it would be a great job for me, but turns out it wasn't. Since I dropped from the program around the time when I was about to intern with a local school I've become somewhat of a night owl. I don't get up much during the day, and I go out and hit up the clubs at night. I have a friend, Darren, who goes with me and sometimes we just bar hop all night long, staggering home at 5 in the morning just to fall asleep and then go about and do the same all over. The drinking helps though - it means I don't dream. I'm tired of dreaming of some Peter that has the job that I thought I was going to be good at, and who has a great life. Me, I'm just happy that theres money in the bank, and that I can go have fun, but I feel like something is missing. I can't figure out what it is though, and its just always there, nagging, constantly nagging, at the back of your brain, telling you that you know you know something, but you've forgotten what that something is, which makes it all the more horrible, because its something you need.
Now though, with the drinking, its rare that I dream of being Peter, for which I'm thankful. Its rare that I dream at all actually, its become where its usually just a blank space of time from when I fall asleep to when I wake up again.
I don't even know why I'm writing this, its not like writing what I feel is going to help at all. If by writing a couple words on a page I could figure out what it is that I feel I'm missing, then it would just be great. But it isn't working so far, so I guess I may just have to try something else. Maybe go see a shrink. That might be a good idea. I just hope that they can help instead of just taking your money and leaving. Peter goes to a couple, and they never seem to be able to help him with his problems, whatever they are. I always seem to miss the dreams that would explain them. It's like an episodic show going on in my head at night, and I'm missing most of the episodes.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the money? How does that work? You should know better than to think I'll do this for free Kuna."
"Peter, its never been about the money. Think of all we could accomplish with this! If it works, we wouldn't ever need to worry about money."
"Kuna, if it works, it'll be your name over everything. Your name. Not your guinea pigs. Now, I want to know that I won't fall off the edge of the books on this one."
"And here I thought we were friends."
"We are. Thats why I'm considering this Kuna. Is it really worth it? For you? For me? For whats going to happen?"
"Yes. It will be."
"And the other Candidates? What will happen to them?"
"Well Peter, thats what we're talking about. You know what happens to them. Thats why we're offering it to you first, that way you won't become another tool."
"Is that what it comes too? We really aren't friends then, are we?"
"Oh we are. More than you can imagine. But this needs to happen. So choose. You have until morning."
"Sounds like I need some new friends then"
Kuna laughed gently under her breath. Rising from her seat in the little room in which she had been talking to Peter she headed for the door, a light grey, the only thing breaking the monotonous white that was the walls, ceiling, and floor save for the two chairs, and the small cot. Those happened to be a light grey like the door.
"Some new friends might do you good Peter. But you know how hard it is for you to find those. And besides, if you make the right choice, you'll be making plenty of new friends anyways." Kuna said in parting, putting light emphasis on friends as she closed the grey door behind her.
There was a small hiss as the door sealed.
"Damn." Peter muttered under his breath getting up from his seat. "Puppets. That's all we are. Puppets."
Peter fell asleep on the cot some time later repeating his mantra.
"Puppets. Thats all we are."
It had been a month since my last dream of that Peter guy, and as soon as I start feeling like he's gone, I have the one dream that started it all. Peter talking to the marten.
Whats weird is I know Kuna in real life. She almost got me a job in the company she works with, CrossTechD, a developer of the dreamer technology that everyone threw a fit about a couple years back. The second five day war, between insurgents and dreamer tech users against local governments over the further use and development of dreamer tech. It was a mess, left hundreds dead across the world, and all over what started as video game tech. Anyways, she works in the research department, figuring out new ways to use the stuff. She's a genius, but sadly she missed her mark when she went into developing technology for video games. She went to school for psychophysiology, but she ended up in CrossTechD. Strange stuff.
But I'm not complaining. She tried her best to get me a position working for her company, but after a couple interviews that sounded really good, the position fell through. And I went on my way. Kuna pulled a couple more strings though, and they gave me a recommendation that got me a job at a sister company as a janitor. With hellishly good pay. Basically, they pay me a ridiculously high amount, as a salaried staff, which is insane, to replace light bulbs. Doesn't make sense to me either, but it pays the bills, and it pays off at the bars as well.
I just mention the paycheck amount, not the position. It usually does the trick, especially when backed by the wad of green purposefully left poking a little out of the wallet. I also have the edge of a tagger poking out as well. I've had to use it as well. There was one time when someone took a little bit too long of a look at the money and followed me out of the bar to make some less than friendly advances. Big guy too - not my type at all. Took two or three hits from the tagger before the paralyzing agents in the darts took effect and knocked him out. Long enough for him to get two good punches in, leaving me with a broken nose and a black eye. Unluckily for him, he owed people money. Some serious people. Too the best of my knowledge thats why he followed me out of the bar. Anyways, these people came out of the bar, and basically tripped over his paralyzed body. And all of his debts happened to be past due.
Haven't seen him since. And people don't mention his name or what happened to him either. Guess he was down long enough not to be able to put up a fight. Worked out for the serious people as well as for me - no one tries to lift my money, and every one tries a littler harder to make sure they don't wait to long to repay what they've borrowed.
I sit there though, gasping. The dream was so vivid... I would swear it was me, not Peter in it, except Kuna was calling me Peter, and she wouldn't ever do that. She knows me. We even dated casually for a bit. But that doesn't matter. This was the same dream that started everything. Back when I was like six. Except - I didn't know Kuna back then. And this was the first time I recognized her, which was odd.
I get up and out of bed and head to the shower. This was to much. I make it almost to the shower, collapsing on the bathroom floor in a cold sweat. I vomit, gagging as I try to hold myself up and not throw up on myself, but it doesn't work. I fall back onto the floor, my soaked shirt to wet with sweat to really pick up any of my leftover dinner.
After a few minutes of chilled shivering, I manage to weakly get up and turn on the shower. I slump into the shower, half sitting, leaned up against the wall as the warm water pours over me, fully clothed. I lean my head back, opening my mouth, letting the water wash my hair back, filling my mouth and spilling out and over, washing away the taste of bile and the smell from my nose. Steam fills the bathroom, and theres a chipped tile from my watch hitting the floor. The half shattered image is a purple flower, lavender. As I look at it in a daze, it becomes dimmed by the steam. The whole bathroom is filled, a pale ghastly whitish grey hiding objects, making even the cabinet just a dim shadow.
I look down at my arms and scream, muffled by the steam, even to my ears. The water, initially warm, has become scalding without my notice. My arms are now bright red and white, dead skin peeling and rolling off to either side, trying to escape the hot water. Suddenly I switch from not noticing the pain or the heat to hyper aware. Each single drop is a quiet explosion, fiery lances digging into my flesh, all up and down my body, my clothing barely protecting me from the fiery war. I'm in such shock, I can't even move, and I just sit there, pain seeming to settle as a blanket over me, slowly feeding itself on my body, slowly, oh so slowly working its way down to my core, leaving behind fire as it moves on.
I come too, lying on the bottom of my shower still. Icy cold water pouring out of the shower head revitalizing me, leaving pucker marks on my fresh skin as it heals. I look over and through the glass shower door my eyes settle on the broken tile again. It lays there, unable to help itself.
Just like me.
Broken.
But I'm not complaining. She tried her best to get me a position working for her company, but after a couple interviews that sounded really good, the position fell through. And I went on my way. Kuna pulled a couple more strings though, and they gave me a recommendation that got me a job at a sister company as a janitor. With hellishly good pay. Basically, they pay me a ridiculously high amount, as a salaried staff, which is insane, to replace light bulbs. Doesn't make sense to me either, but it pays the bills, and it pays off at the bars as well.
I just mention the paycheck amount, not the position. It usually does the trick, especially when backed by the wad of green purposefully left poking a little out of the wallet. I also have the edge of a tagger poking out as well. I've had to use it as well. There was one time when someone took a little bit too long of a look at the money and followed me out of the bar to make some less than friendly advances. Big guy too - not my type at all. Took two or three hits from the tagger before the paralyzing agents in the darts took effect and knocked him out. Long enough for him to get two good punches in, leaving me with a broken nose and a black eye. Unluckily for him, he owed people money. Some serious people. Too the best of my knowledge thats why he followed me out of the bar. Anyways, these people came out of the bar, and basically tripped over his paralyzed body. And all of his debts happened to be past due.
Haven't seen him since. And people don't mention his name or what happened to him either. Guess he was down long enough not to be able to put up a fight. Worked out for the serious people as well as for me - no one tries to lift my money, and every one tries a littler harder to make sure they don't wait to long to repay what they've borrowed.
I sit there though, gasping. The dream was so vivid... I would swear it was me, not Peter in it, except Kuna was calling me Peter, and she wouldn't ever do that. She knows me. We even dated casually for a bit. But that doesn't matter. This was the same dream that started everything. Back when I was like six. Except - I didn't know Kuna back then. And this was the first time I recognized her, which was odd.
I get up and out of bed and head to the shower. This was to much. I make it almost to the shower, collapsing on the bathroom floor in a cold sweat. I vomit, gagging as I try to hold myself up and not throw up on myself, but it doesn't work. I fall back onto the floor, my soaked shirt to wet with sweat to really pick up any of my leftover dinner.
After a few minutes of chilled shivering, I manage to weakly get up and turn on the shower. I slump into the shower, half sitting, leaned up against the wall as the warm water pours over me, fully clothed. I lean my head back, opening my mouth, letting the water wash my hair back, filling my mouth and spilling out and over, washing away the taste of bile and the smell from my nose. Steam fills the bathroom, and theres a chipped tile from my watch hitting the floor. The half shattered image is a purple flower, lavender. As I look at it in a daze, it becomes dimmed by the steam. The whole bathroom is filled, a pale ghastly whitish grey hiding objects, making even the cabinet just a dim shadow.
I look down at my arms and scream, muffled by the steam, even to my ears. The water, initially warm, has become scalding without my notice. My arms are now bright red and white, dead skin peeling and rolling off to either side, trying to escape the hot water. Suddenly I switch from not noticing the pain or the heat to hyper aware. Each single drop is a quiet explosion, fiery lances digging into my flesh, all up and down my body, my clothing barely protecting me from the fiery war. I'm in such shock, I can't even move, and I just sit there, pain seeming to settle as a blanket over me, slowly feeding itself on my body, slowly, oh so slowly working its way down to my core, leaving behind fire as it moves on.
I come too, lying on the bottom of my shower still. Icy cold water pouring out of the shower head revitalizing me, leaving pucker marks on my fresh skin as it heals. I look over and through the glass shower door my eyes settle on the broken tile again. It lays there, unable to help itself.
Just like me.
Broken.
Shattered by someone, something bigger than itself. Not really sure why it hit me like that, but it did. All I could do was stare at the tile, and how simple a metaphor it was for my life. Not that I could hold anyone responsible, its not like someone just came along and decided to shatter my perfect life, my "complete tile", but thats what it feels like. Feels like I've been just trying to get by with half of what I'm supposed to, like getting the short stick in a draw, except for this short stick was my life. Or at least its what it seems like. I still go out, but its all just become dry. Lifeless. I'm going through the motions, but its no longer fun or exciting. Dull, thats the word I'm looking for.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
The pain is just a dull throbbing, the cold water numbing my body as my mind swirls around in its haze of self pity. I finally tear my eyes off of the tile and lean up to turn off the water. A few drops of water fall out after I shut it off, the stream of water from the shower head slowly pitter-pattering itself out. I'm too exhausted to move, so I just fall back and lay there, my clothes soaked and clinging to my body. Its not the most enjoyable feeling, but I manage to ignore that. Too tired to move, too tired to even focus on anything really, I just start to slip again, my eyes drawn back to that tile, to the metaphorical enigma that I felt was my life wrapped up in such an exquisitely simple package, and I quietly slipped into sleep, my mind humming along with a thousand different thoughts just below the surface, but none rising above the monotonous fog in my head.
"Peter? I know this is a sudden proposition, but you have to come to a decision soon. You're the one most likely to have a successful operation out of all the candidates, but if you can't handle it, we can find someone else. You aren't special by any means, just more likely to succeed then the rest. This can be yours if you want."
"And the other candidates? What happens to them if I agree?"
"You always cared too much Peter. But thats a good quality I suppose, if that's what does it for you. I've always found I like... More of a carefree attitude, personally." Mardar said as she licked her lips, tongue slowly catching on her upper lip, pulling it into her mouth for a quick nibble.
Peter looked up at her, raising one eyebrow slowly. "So you like children now Kuna? Is that what you're trying to tell me here?" He said somberly.
Mardar pouted. "I was trying to make a joke Peter." She sighed "If you must know, the other candidates will be the ones tested upon. Thats how it works. I'm pretty sure I explained this too you earlier. Why do you have to be so difficult?"
"To keep you on your toes. Besides, if I didn't, no one would. Check please!" Peter motioned a waiter over suddenly. The two were sitting at a small table on a veranda, surrounded by other small tables, all lit by candle, but theirs was the only occupied table.
"Thank you" Mardar smiled at the waiter as he left the table after giving Peter the check. "It must be nice you know."
"What must be nice?" Peter asked, giving her a funny look.
"Having money" She said slyly. "Must be nice to just reserve the whole restaurant if you wanted a private conversation while dining out. Not just any place either, you had to go high class, didn't you?" She added, glancing about. The soft candle light illuminated the ground enough to walk between tables, but dissipated into a soft glow just above the tables. This, coupled with the shining reflections of the bells hanging fr tomhe edges of the tables, and the low chuckling sound they produced as they swayed softly in the breeze was enchanting.
"Well, considering I am going to be taking you up on that offer, I figured we had to do something special this evening" Peter replied, lightly stressing 'special'. "It's not exactly like I'll be hurting for money, so I might as well get used to using it." He smiled cheekily at Mardar. "Besides, we both know how well I do with... people. And friends. So I needed someone to celebrate with. Hence why I called you up."
"And here I thought perhaps I was being chosen especially." She replied winking. "Some new friends might do you good though, Peter. You know that seeing people is important. Humans are naturally social creatures. It's part of why what we're attempting is so likely to work. We all have natural tendencies to depend upon each other, just this is... more sophisticated and much less friendly about it." She leaned forward, a smile parting her lips. "Now, about this 'celebration'. Does it end with dinner, or is there dessert at your place afterwards?"
"I suppose I could do with a little dessert myself..." Peter leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss before sitting back. "But I believe we have to wait for the receipt before leaving for that."
Kuna pouted at him, crossing her arms in a childish manner.
"Now now Kuna... I would hate to go to all this trouble, and then get hit by some legal problem because I forgot and didn't have record of where a couple thousand dollars went. I'm sure that our evening can wait for a few more minutes." Peter smiled. "Besides, a little anticipation never killed anyone. Just makes dessert more... delightful."
His smile grew, mirroring Kuna's pout.
I always wake up before I... I mean, Peter... Gets back to his place with Kuna. And I can't help but wish I could stay asleep a little longer, just to see what happens, to live those moments. As much as I hate dreaming of being Peter, whoever this guy is, I must admit at times I am rather jealous of him.
Especially with regard to Kuna. This is the second dream I've had where I've had the dream before with out realizing it was Kuna in it, and now I'm recognizing her. I don't know how I didn't before.
Long, soft, glimmering black hair, so dark that it seems to suck in the color around it, framing a petite face, deeply tanned by the sun in Panama where she came from. A slight frame, slightly shorter, hardened by work as a teen, and continually reinforced by her rigorous exercise regimes now that her food and life doesn't depend on the next crop. How she managed to go through school at all amazes me, much less to go on to become a psychophysiologist. It is simply astounding. I wonder what makes Peter so special, what draws her to him. Is it the money? Something to do with being the one candidate or something I suppose. Something I'm not.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
Anyways, I got out of the shower after a while. Woke up and the water was off. I probably bumped it or something. I got up, cleaned up the vomit, changed, and then took a real shower, without scalding water this time. I need to talk to the upkeep for this place about that. No good to have renters burn themselves in the shower. I was feeling much better, functioning normally, or as normally as I can. Going about the bathroom cleaning up later that night and I noticed something odd. My tile was missing. There was a few pieces of splintered tile, more dust than anything, and an empty square where the tile should have been. I wonder where it went. I don't think I removed it, but then again, when I was cleaning up the vomit I still wasn't completely functioning again. I just don't know why I would have removed it, or what I would have done with it. Sort of a little weird, it just going missing like that.
It wasn't until much later that I found it. I had just gotten home from work (replacing lightbulbs of all things), and after what had happened earlier in the day I didn't feel like hitting up the night clubs or bar hopping like I usually would do, roaming the streets in search of some form of entertainment, so I went to go lie down. I was in my bed when I found it.
Fastened somehow to the ceiling was my tile. Directly above my head. And in small, jittery handwriting directly beneath it was someone's name. I guessed it before I could even really read it, and chills ran up and down my spine.
Peter.
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