» Wed Jan 12, 2011 4:06 pm
As most of you are probably aware at this point, the city I live in (in dreams) is usually almost normal. Maybe 'twenty-minutes-into-the-future', maybe with an air of cyberpunk noir.
But other than that, it's an ordinary city where -upon occasion- really bizarre [censored] occurs.
Last night was just such an occasion.
It was afternoon in Midpoint, and I was down at one of the transit hubs, walking past the bullet trains with my hands in my pockets. I wasn't there for any particular reason; just killing time between assignments I guess. I like to walk around and look at things even in this world; I suppose it would stand to reason that 'dream-me' and I share some behavioral habits.
The walls were mostly tile or stucco- some with illegible graffiti sprayed across, others adorned with faded and peeling posters or maps of the transit system. From what I recall, most of the posters were for live events: performing bands, theatre; I think I even saw some old FIAT propaganda leaflets in there. 1950s stuff. I wish I'd stopped and taken a closer look; those would have been fun to try and recreate.
Anyway. I was just turning to go up a flight of stairs to my left, intending to return to street level, when something odd caught my eye.
It was... I guess you could call it a subway car, of vintage make, sitting idle next to its sleek modern brethren. It looked almost like a steam engine- tall enough to stand up in without the risk of cracking your head against the ceiling; wide enough to allow three people to pass abriast of one another if they needed to. The paint was faded and the glass dark; I could see that there were lights inside, but couldn't make out any movement beyond indistinct shapes and voices.
The people boarding were similarly out of place. There wasn't much in the way of foot traffic in this particular stretch of walkway, but the few groups passing the boarders didn't even seem to notice them- they just stepped around them without acknowledging the others' presence.
Each boarder was beautifully dressed- I counted fox stoles and mink coats; Armani suits; jewelry that would probably cost more than most cars. The people themselves were equally beautiful... except they all looked like they'd stepped straight out of the Roaring Twenties.
I mean, seriously. There were fedoras. And coiffed hair. And freaking quellazaires. I wouldn't have been surprised to see, I don't know, Paul Newman go walking past. Or something.
It was awesome. I had to see what was going on. So I looked for an opening, and insinuated myself into the queue.
Inside, the train... car... thing was all paneled in dark wood: walnut; maybe cherry. The ceiling was hung with what looked like antique gas lights. The seats were covered in wine velvet (or maybe velour- I didn't inspect them too closely, other than to note that they were sooooooooft). Past the seating area, a pair of sliding doors opened up onto a set of draqes, and past that, what appeared to be a compact dining area.
The ma?tre d' bore an uncanny resemblance to Vincent Price, and he -all smiles- waltzed each attendee to their individual place. He didn't even break stride until he noticed me- I only realized later that I must have stood out like a sore thumb in that crowd.
...Good lord, this is starting to drag on, isn't it. >.>
All right, long story short, I was told that I was welcome to join the crowd, and given clothes so that I would blend in. I do not want to know how the ma?tre d' knew my size just by looking at me. Once. It was almost like these people knew I was coming.
The people were all gathered here for something like a cocktail party (yes, on a moving train- it's a dream, darling, go with it), which culminated in the choosing of a guest of honor, followed by a feast.
As the evening went on -and to be honest I don't really remember how- I discovered that each of the dishes involved were, though artfully arranged and masterfully disguised as something else, primarily comprised of human flesh. You can see where I'm going with the 'guest of honor' thing, can't you?
It was part of a.... ritual or ceremony or something, by which means all the surviving attendees were granted prolonged youth and beauty. It had to be renewed every decade or so- I just happened to be present for the event. Right place at the right time. Or the opposite, depending on how you look at it.
They offered to initiate me. If I refused, of course, they would have to kill me; couldn't allow the secret to escape, after all.
I got away by pulling the emergency break. And then luring the ma?tre d' out onto the tracks. He was summarily disposed of via a deus ex machina an express train.
Part of me was just glad to be out of there, since things had veered into the Uncanny freaking Valley with alarming speed.
....Aaaaaaand another part of me was saying, "Oh my god I just hit Vincent Price! With a train! What kind of monster am I?" D:
don't laugh, it was fun until the [censored] hit the fan.
So we walked around a little and this jerk in a yellow pickup truck was well.. being a jerk. So we waited till he parked somewhere in a vacant parking lot. Then commenced to break into and steal his car. He started chasing us but we lost him. We decided to park somewhere where he wouldnt find us, in another parking lot in the shadows lol. The shadow turned the car red, we got out and started to run as we knew he wasnt far behind. We were nearing the border of the city, which dropped off like a roof to ground level to the next city. My sister freaked out and jumped, of course by doing this she broke her ankle upon landing, I managed to find a safe way to drop down and I helped her limp to the nearest train station, the next train would be hours before arriving. So we walked down the tracks a bit in the dark hoping an ambulance would come along the tracks. It never came, right before I could swear a train would be here I woke up because it was so darn cold in my room.
