Day 45. 144 pages, 66,110 words.
Good party last night, will try to write a report. In the meantime…
The following is a basically-spoiler-free sneak peek at a snipping from Blaran. It is a stream of consciousness dream sequence based loosely on a dream related to me by a friend who will remain anonymous until they decide otherwise, with a bit of some of my own dream-stuff mixed in, and obviously adapted to contain in-universe people and places.
“I had that dream again,” she changed the subject.
“You know … I was that Bonshoon entertainer, Hyber Wold. Except I wasn’t really him, I was that Goddess of Plenty character he plays in The Fallen Vahoon. Garla Gunumbous. I was married to Bothyl the Thief and all that. We lived in this old hab out on Bad Moon Three, but Bothyl was really immature and kept leaving and flying to Castermaine for months at a time. Then one night my friend Sally sent me a comm saying she couldn’t get a nod-back from Corps Sci about Bothyl’s whereabouts – which of course, in the dream, meant that he had to be dead for some reason. So I organised a huge group of people to go out. Not looking for Bothyl the Thief, but out for food.
“Just as we were leaving I heard an organiser vibrating against a rock inside an old power conduit that had been rerouted and was now just unused and filled with rubbish. Which was weird because there was still power coming through the conduit even though it didn’t have any nodes inside it. It turned out it wasn’t Bothyl’s pad, but one belonging to this aki’Drednanth whose name was Big Snow Mommy, and everyone knew who she was even though I’m pretty sure there’s never been an aki’Drednanth by that name. And I was angry at that friend of yours, Wildy, for some unknown reason. So I ended up just throwing the pad back into the conduit and letting it fry out.
“Then, like I was saying, this huge group of people – there were thirty of us or more – were all crammed into this single lander and headed to some place at the witchy hour to get food. But we needed to find a place with a decent selection of share-meals because everyone wanted a share-meal each but they all wanted to pretend they were sharing with someone else so they wouldn’t be embarrassed to eat all that food, and I tried explaining that if everyone got a share-meal it would still look like we were all eating a share-meal each even if we pretended to be sharing with someone else who also had a share-meal, but they kept on telling me to shut up even though it was really important that I explain this to them. And we needed a place with a bunch of different coffees because Sally was coming, and of course a bunch of frozen stuff for Big Snow Mommy. Fortunately Brute Barducci was there and he was able to help organise the group of people and he was super-helpful and kind, which was really creepy.
“After we got to the place Sally got an angry comm from Bothyl the Thief for scaring everybody about saying he was probably dead, but he didn’t want to talk to me about anything. But ten minutes later he turned up at the restaurant, and hid in a corner playing this musical physics fusion game thing that made this annoying ba-zing! noise over and over again. Then I realised that Bothyl was just an overgrown Bonshoon man-child and was scared and didn’t know what to do, and that’s why he kept running away. Then he started telling me this story about a tribe of dumblers who made this pilgrimage to a cave, and to get there they had to make a suspension bridge out of their own bodies. Like … like ants, see? They had to do that, just to get one member of the tribe far enough out over the edge of the cliff that he could reach the cave, where there was this liquid that slowly dripped from the ceiling, and he had to drink it.
“Then I was the tribesman, drinking the liquid in the cave. And it was the blood of a massive animal of some kind. And we weren’t in a cave at all, but a valley that the animal was lying across the top of to make it look like a cave,” she held one hand above the other, then brought them together with a clap. “And then I woke up.”
“Oh,” Zeegon said, “that dream.”
Ital grinned. It had almost become a traditional conversation between the two of them by now. “How about you?” she went on. “Did you sleep well?”