Dream a little dream

How many dreams does a person have in a night? Too many.

Stars going out like candles, an image shown in so many media. The splintering of bone.Why dream about something like that? When we're children, we have nightmares even then. Glowing green eyes in the depths of a cave. A whispered name.

I dreamed tonight that I was in a maze. Not a labyrinth, a maze. A multicursal stucture, rather than a unicursal structure. The walls were not stone. The were gray, gray, gray and brown, with writing on them. Some form of concrete or stucco? Beside the point.

Alchemical symbols. Antimony. Silver. Platinum. Magnesium. Gold. All beneath a layer of dust so thick that I could see my footprints in it. Ahead of me was evidence of someone passing before. Small of stature, bare feet. Bare feet in that mess... I've  stepped in worse, I guess.

As I ran a hand along the grime and rust-covered wall, watching the flowering of the rust along the surface, I began to notice lighter spots along the wall. They were rectangles, reaching from above my head to the floor. Like when you have a piece of furniture in a single place for a very long time and it leaves a mark when you move it.

It took a long moment as I looked at the marks, and I began to realize that they were doors. Or where there were doors. Places where the doors had vanished. What would happen if you were in a room and the door vanished? Would you try to go through the wall?

What if you couldn't go through the wall due to being trapped in an extradimensional pocket? Set fire to the room? Listen to the voices? Try to press on anyway? Curl up in a ball and give up? Rage against the sky that you no longer had access to and that would not listen, anyway? Skies are very bad listeners. They have no ears.

Pc ypn wngf ittlwf qxpy sff httn dwhh ui, ak ah httrw oqixs bw ttwozs tq evmccw spr rdrlmps.

There were true openings in the walls now. Tiny altars of perhaps-dead things that have been forgotten for many a year. A woman robed in cobweb, the wet, glittering black of her eyes shielded by skeletal fingers, a ring glinting on each. A small, stout man with the face of an reptile of some sort, eyes sparkling and following every movement, completely nude. A many-horned creature, vague in form, leathery and violent in its very appearance.  A young woman with the eyes of a cat, snakes and the tails of scorpions woven into her sooty hair, a shattered hand outstretched in supplication. A child with her hands over her eyes, wings of light broken and shattered. Offerings become dust themselves, scattered and strewn away.

Tell the king; the fair wrought house has fallen

No shelter has Apollo, nor sacred laurel leaves

The fountains are now silent; the voice is stilled.

It is finished.

 

Some less forgotten,  a woman of ironwood will, a misbegotten child, a singing cold wind, the faceless bachelor thief, and many more. Teir numbers grow. There are many ways to give something power, but why do people choose to? Do what ways they choose matter to the chosen? The dust was stirred more around some than around others, this part of the path heavily trodden and lit by the glow of screens unseen.

Other tiny staues are tucked in smaller nooks, most of them toppled over on their sides, a spread of acrid liquid spilling from their bases, discoloring the air and the mind with shades of dreams lost and unseen.

As I went further, the hundred alcoves became fewer. They were all empty, except for more graffiti, and the walls have elaborate water stains, dripping rust and orange colors down the concrete. One of the spaces had a small round opening, perhaps six inches in diameter, presumably the mouth of a pipe. It was also surrounded by a flower of rust stains, and some individual with a very strange sense of humor left a ragged black scrawl reading “The Chicken Goes Here” with an arrow pointing to it.

If only I’d thought to bring a chicken... and that was an odd place to wake up from, babbling and clinging.

The Iron Rose

Insularity is something that's becoming far too easy to fall into for us these days. With Tia closing herself off more, to most people, and Kailin just being Kailin. Jared's pretty outgoing, but I think he's a bit guarded for his own reasons. Understandably. There are still a few people keeping us from this, and I'm glad of that.

I got another email the other day asking why we bother Running. Honestly, I'm the most to blame for that. Among other reasons, like not wanting to lie down and die. I have to consider how long we're in one location before people start to notice that things aren't quite... right. How long will it take before something chips through their self-absorption or whatever else is holding their attention and they start to pay attention to the weird little group staying it room-number whatever-the-heck? Start to notice the graffiti that got painted over the other day, the figures skulking in every shadow, the chalk-scratchings on the sidewalk?

Some people compare being Stalked to being like a transmittable disease. I don't necessarily consider it that way, but I have to wonder. If that's true, we've been traveling, off and on, for a good while now. What is our footprint of spread? How many people have been drawn into things that might not have, if we hadn't been in a certain place at a certain time? How many weights should be on my conscience, if only I knew of them?

Is it so surprising then, that I choose to generally not make extra money by selling paintings? Especially some of them... I've done in excess of a hundred paintings that have not been posted, and never will be posted, because they have been disposed of. Egocentric? Maybe, but there are some things I'd prefer not to take chances on. Things people weren't meant to see. So, as I've said, I get rid of them. For my own mental well-being.

What little there is left of it, anyway.

We're still making do with things. Jared's still in the doghouse a bit. Is that selfish of me? Maybe a little. I've forgiven him, but it's been almost six years since I saw him last. Since we saw him last. We've all changed in that time. Maybe we don't have the time to dance around things, but getting to know eachother again is proving interesting. He actually got Tia to smile the other day.

That's a rare sight, these days. She rarely smiles at most people recently, at least in any real way. Tia's always had anger issues, even when we were teenagers. That's part of why there was such a negative reaction from us when someone told her in the comments to someone telling her to let that become a weapon.

To let something like anger control you is just like anything else that you allow to cloud judgement. Lashing out like a wounded, trapped animal is not acceptable, no matter how likely a reaction it is at times these days. We are not animals. And to allow our situation to attempt to form us into anything of the sort... I don't know. I wish it were so simple.

It's hard to see the light try to fade from people as you struggle to stoke that fire. Not just our little group, but those beyond it. To not merely survive, but to live.

Sleep is for the weak and tired

I never knew where he went or how his afternoons were spent.
He said he had to slay a dragon, kill a giant, fix a wagon.
Wage a war, feed the world, and stamp out sin.
In the daytime he was never in.

Thank you for you input, Jared. Utterly.

Honestly, I almost find it a little amusing how each of us deals with our not wanting to sleep much. I nap. Little cat-naps every so often. Too long and you start to dream too much. Tia, she just keeps going until she utterly crashes. Usually a few days before having to sleep for most of a day, too exhausted to do anything else. Kailin? I actually haven't seen zer sleep much in general. At least not soundly. Jared... I haven't picked up on his patterns yet. Erratic behavior.

Not exactly healthy. We try to get enough rest, though. Enough so that if something happens, we can at least make an attempt at dealing with it.

It's been weird, getting used to having Jared around again. The last time I saw him was on that day in January, six years ago. When he made me promise to look after Marie. By that point, I already thought of her like the little sister I'd never have. And yes, maybe it's cruel of me to blame him for that. Wrong to blame him for being caught up in all of this. For getting me caught up in this.

It's not fair to him.

I know that. He was seventeen at the time. Most people don't exactly have the very best decision-making skills as a teenager. Especially Jared.

We met through Doctor Chavez. Well, at his office. And as I've said, we made friends. Amusingly, yes, there almost was something between us, but well. I was fourteen at the time when we first met. It wasn't long after certain incidents... We would have been bad for each other, and we knew it. So we decided to be friends.

Honestly, we didn't see much of each other in school. Jared... He was the class clown, to fall back on high school archetypes. I was me. Until Tia moved into town, he was one of the few friends I had at school, even if he was more the popular type. Unlike Tia, however, his tactics for helping me usually involved distracting whoever was messing with me at the time. Unless things got too bad.

Unfortunately, we didn't have too many classes together.

The thing that bothers me the most is that his parents  told us that he committed suicide a few days after I spoke with him that day in January. That he'd shot himself. The funeral was closed-casket. But obviously... Obviously he's still alive and kicking.

Why would they cover that up? Heck, how would they cover that up?

I feel sure he knows at least a bit, but I'm not sure if we'll ever know all the details, with his parents and Marie now dead. my fault

As a closing note, with a little help, we've found someone for Tia to see. The kid's got a few connections, apparently. I'm painting still. Also, that girl's back. As are other... oddness. Guess things are getting back to "normal".

Witty comment

Still not sure of the time or the day. Funny, that. It's like, when I try to check on the laptop or my phone, my eyes just skid away from any numbers.

I know my blood runs hot,
And I've seen my blood is thick
I'm told my blood's not sweet,
And I cry, "my soul is sick"

Funny girl... We're on the move. It's eerie, the feeling of emptiness where there should be people. There are symbols scratched along the walls occasionally in this not-hospital. A certain symbol is absent, thankfully. Almost a week in the hospital or more. Yeah, more than a week we were there. This isn't the same place, though.

When I went to check the hall where the squeaking was, I saw, of all things, Marie... Who is dead. At least, it looked like her. I know it wasn't, though. I don't know how, but I know it was just a figment of this place... Of course, the dissipating into laughing mist might have helped that assumption.

The hospital grows more convoluted as we move, looking for a way out. Labyrinthine. Who is the Minotaur this time, and will we even see trace? Have to keep moving. The thing about true labyrinths is that they are not mazes. There is a path out.

We Soldier On... Or Something

Maybe I was trying to be nice about your attitude and demeanor, Kailin.

They took Tia away yesterday. The doctors wouldn't tell us what exactly was wrong, but well... You saw what Kailin overheard. I was almost tempted to poke zer to nick Tia's chart. If nothing else, due to my job, I'm good at deciphering nurse's notes and stuff from doctors.

We couldn't chance getting kicked out, though. Of course. So we just sat yesterday, and talked some. Kailin's definiely interesting to talk to sometimes. But then again, I commend anyone that can keep up with my nervous rambling.

Essentially, due to the circumstances, they probably had to either induce labor or abort... It wouldn't even be counted as a miscarriage at this point. It'd just be count as a lost pregnancy. I just... This is wrong.

I hate being unable to do anything. They brought back Tia last night... She's so pale, and she hasn't woken up yet. She seems more stable, though. Less shuddery and at least there's a few positive things there... She's just... asleep now. I talked one of the nurses into letting us stay in Tia's room again with her. If nothing else, it would be good to have someone in here in case she wakes up. 

I feel sure she's going to be disoriented when she wakes. Because she's going to wake up.

...One of the nurses just said the doctor wants to speak with me when he comes in today. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. This is going to be hell on our funds, but at least we have stuff saved up still.  It's worth it, anyway. I just wish... I wish things weren't this way. But then, don't we all?

I've seen a few things around here that have put me on edge, but for now, my focus is Tia and Kailin and maintaining things as best I can.  Everything seems to be trying to crumble, though. As always. And I've been making myself sick again. We'll manage, though. I don't know what else to say other than that right now.

Doobley-doo

Sorry about the lack of posting lately, guys. We're still kicking around. It's been an odd month so far, though.

...I say that like it's not been an odd while at this point. Anyway, we've been working on the baby issue still. I know there's a high probability of something going wrong, but in the end, it's Tia's choice, as has already been said. Emphatically. Also, hormones are interesting, I'll give the human body that. Things are going... pretty reasonably in certain areas. I've been getting lots of hugs recently, for various reasons.

Kailin's still with us. Zie's not the most willing to talk about zer past, and honestly, I don't blame the kid. So we're focusing on the now and on the future, I guess. I can live with that.  It's not my place to pry. Kailin will talk when zie feels like it.

Honestly, I'm just very... tired, recently. He's still around, as usual. Lurking. lurklurklurk. Sorry, anyway. Lurk is a funny word.

It's hard sometimes, to be this person who always forgives and turns the other cheek. Who is forever giving people new chances. It's not always easy being the person willing to welcome someone back with open arms time and time again.  Just for them to hurt you and others. It would be so easy to be angry and react violently.

There are a few people who inspire such a reaction from me, but they are very rare and far-between.

The easy road isn't always the best road, though. Bitter, angry, vengeful, petty... Those are all easy. and if I give into them, then it's a victory. Not for me, certainly. But letting myself be changed in a negative light by the things around me.... Would stink.

I don't know.

I don't know anymore. It's just... God, I feel hollow right now. Like my insides have been nearly scraped clean and laid bare for all to see again and again.

I find it funny, when I get told by people "Oh, you guys do so good." Bah. Bah. We're hanging on by the skin of our teeth, most of the time.

Also, someone cut the gas line to the truck today. Hurray. Think it was the chick who's been following us. Still haven't been able to get a good enough view of her to be able to identifty her well. Fun.

We'll manage. We always do.

Commentary

Lissie's in a mood. Misplaced blame is not a thing she gets on with, nosiree. It's funny when Lis is the one who wants to smack some sense into people.


Another thing: sometimes fellow bloggers use words and I have to wonder if they really know what that word means. Like, for instance, "rules." Rule are things that always apply. Things that are going to be true when faced with the test of time and will always be true. Save for a few choice exceptions. Rules are also based in fact. Scientific observation made by multiple unbiased parties willing to change their perspective should science deign it appropriate, not just personal observation. These are almost as high as laws, which have no exceptions whatsoever.


Anyway.


The point is, I guess, everyone makes their own path and it's not guaranteed to lead them anywhere specific. The human life is not a thing that can be put so narrowly along expectation row. In sum, I will not let my life be led by silliness you all think is fact.


I won't let my child be led along on her path of life by stupidity or the expectations you've all built of us.


You're letting the fear you've all built up as a result of this thing rule you from a to z and you've all forgotten how to live. How to love. How to be human. Well, not all of you, I'm sorry if I implied things that would make you uncomfortable in advance.


Try not to forget how to be human. I know it's hard sometimes, especially when you're coping with fear so shoddily that you've got snot and spit and all sorts of other nastiness seeping from you. But you have to try anyway. Because otherwise you're going to lose yourself in the fight, and then you'll lose sight of your motive, and why are you even fighting if you don't know what you're fighting for anyway?


And now I'm going to go back to driving and letting Kailin and Lis rule the blog.


Also, morning sickness seriously sucks.

A Bad Case of the Restless

The mums are... sorta really optimistic. I'm just going to let you all know right here: this is Me. I am not an optimist. And no, I'm not a realist either. I'm one helluva down-in-the-dumps pessimist. I think shit's going to fall to shit even when it's all going alright, because usually... that's right when it all falls to hell in the worst way.

But the mums aren't of that blood. They think better of the world and people and still have some tiny faith in circumstance. I guess maybe it's because they have each other. It's all saccharine like that.

M'gonna get diabetes or some shit travelling with these women. Not. Even. Kidding.

But unfortunately being a pessimist also means that I see the things hat my optimistic friends won't see sometimes. Like I know they pick up on shit that I miss entirely.

But there's something not comfortable and slimy and disgusting closing in. It's familiar. I know it. It stinks. No matter how fast we move. It follows. It closes in. The mums wouldn't like me talking or typing or whatevering like this. It's not a good attitude to keep.

But the paint-splattered mum's been Dreaming. She hasn't posted about it yet, she thinks you all will think she's nutters or mad or out of her head or a thousand and one things I have been called in every family unit I have ever had.

But the Old Chief (may he rest well) would call Lis for what she is: Dreamer. And that's a scary and big and terrible responsibility and fate. And Them That Dream are usually also Them That Have Big Fates. Not usually the sort that can hide well in the background.

Well they can try. Paint-splattered Mum does her best. It's better than a lot could manage. But maybe the Thing That Stalks likes her and hers so much because of the Dreamings. Or maybe it will be the Thing That Stalks that will force her to meet her fate. Fate is a big word for only four letters. Y'know?

And here I am, all of sixteen and barely educated trying to explain to you all what Fate means. What it meant to Old Chief and all the things he tried to teach me before... well anyway.

Anyway.

The point is, don't ignore the Dreamers or their Dreamings. Because I know damned well the Things That Never Sleep won't be ignoring them. They'll be as familiar as they like with the Dreamers. And their People.

Grumpy Mum and I are here to stay though. It's been a while since anyone made me feel like I belong. And I think Grumpy Mum can relate to that feeling right there.

And now I'm getting Looks for being all emotional and typing over here. They suspect the revealing nature of my post. I'm hitting submit now.

Just Something I've been Fiddling With

Each breath breathed means we're alive
And life means that we can find
The reasons to keep on getting by
And if reasons we can't find
We'll make up some to get by
'Til breath by breath we'll leave this behind