Chapter Eighteen: Troubled Dreams

I had the strangest dream, today.

We'd been moving steadily southwest, following the tracks of the buffalo herd that had nearly given us the Mufasa treatment just the other night. We'd been going at it for three days, stopping only for meals. Scales would also insist that we spar—both with our minds and weapons—every time we stopped. I kept on trying to get the string through my puzzle ball, but it stubbornly continued to refuse to be solved. I hung out with Cruz in my dreams the past two nights; he was living on Prospit full-time, now, ever since his real self had been assassinated.

I did not have any reason to believe that tonight would be different than any other night. Scales and I reached another of those giant baobab trees and stopped to make camp. We had a quick dinner, several brief sparring sessions, I completely failed at my puzzle ball again, and then we went to sleep.

And not long after, another version of me wearing bloodstained Prospitian pajamas woke up in a cozy room that existed only in shades of green.

I was on the Golden Moon of Prospit, right now… I think I'd been wandering around in some giant grassy plain, filled with towering, massive trees that had some ridiculous name that I could not remember… I think I remembered something about a cobra consort with red scales—the very same one I'd seen in a Skaian cloud during one of the last eclipses.

But as usual, I really had trouble recalling what my real self had been up to. I knew I was really sleeping on a rainy planet with gravity-defying rivers, somewhere else in this strange, dimensional pocket of what-the-fuck. This incipisphere. I knew I was doing something that had to do with helping the smart cobra people from my planet…but other than the occasional vague recollection, I really remembered nothing about my other life.

Usually I would wake up with very clear memories of what had come before…but they would fade within minutes. Like memories of a dream. I mean, unless I concentrated really hard on remembering. But that took hard work and focus, and who the hell wants to spoil a good dream with that?

I shrugged, hopping out of bed, wobbling slightly as I levitated up into the air before my feet actually touched the ground. Flying was so much easier, here. I could do it simply because I was my dream self right now; I did not have to rely on my Aspect to hold me aloft. Dream selves could just...fly. It was wonderful.

I glanced at my computer, wondering if there was anyone I'd wanted to contact. I shrugged before I really considered the matter, however. My last chat session had been with Gwen, and she had a way of chatting until my eyes throbbed. I think I deserved a break.

With a powerful jump, I was sailing through one of my windows and out into the Prospitian sky. I thought about heading over to Cruz's tower. He was always lounging around, smoking and strumming around with his guitars. I wondered if he would ever end up running out of weed, but the idea seemed laughable the moment it presented itself to me. Cruz would never run out of weed. He was Cruz.

I was about halfway to Cruz's tower when it happened. A sort of…blackout, maybe?

I blinked, and suddenly the golden moon of Prospit was far below me, growing more and more distant. I was flying out into space, away from Skaia. I frowned. This was not right. Trying not to dwell too much on how I'd ended up flying out into space, I just focused on turning around and heading back to Prospit…only to find that I couldn't.

Another blink, and I found myself even farther out. I was overcome by a…by a… It was almost like that craving you get to go outside when you're stuck in a classroom and you look out the window to see a beautiful day. Only in this case, my craving was to fly out into the darkness of the void between Skaia and the planets, and I was overcome with it for no reason I could think of.

And so I gave into this desire, this craving to fly further and further away from Skaia. To say that I was completely unaware of what was happening would have been a lie—it was almost like I was incredibly stoned. I could see where I was going and what I was doing, but I would easily drift in and out of awareness. My body was just moving on its own.

No, what I could feel in vibrant detail was my Aspect. I could finally feel what it was like to properly use the Force Aspect, which was what my dream self was doing, under the direction of whatever force was driving me deeper into space. I could almost feel the individual atoms and particles making up the space around me, and they hummed and vibrated in rhythm with my heartbeat, growing more and more agitated as I increased my speed.

I started flying faster and faster. I could actually feel the energy that I was subconsciously generating. It was kinetic energy. I was generating vast amounts of kinetic energy, and I was using it to make me shoot through space. That was how the Force Aspect worked—the generation and manipulation of energy, and using it in turn to manipulate matter. It wasn't about picking up a ball with your mind—it was about generating the energy to give the metaphorical ball the push it needed to get into the air.

My dream self, unlike my real self, seemed to possess a limitless amount of the energy required to use my Aspect. Had I tried shooting myself into space while I was awake, I would have collapsed with a nosebleed before I even made it through my planet's clouds. My real self seemed to be able to tap into that energy with enough practice and concentration…but for my dream self, that energy was just simply there. It was part of me.

And curiously, even though I was able to breathe in space here, which would suggest the existence of air, there was absolutely no air resistance or friction holding me back. I could fly at my ever-increasing velocity forever until I slowed myself down, or splattered into an asteroid. I was really hoping for door number one, there.

Not that any of this mattered, because I found myself utterly incapable of controlling it. It was like someone was remotely sparking the energy of my dream self, forcing me to use my Aspect to propel me along.

Then suddenly, after blinking again, I came to a dead stop. I found myself surrounded by empty darkness. Skaia was a distant ball of light behind me, Prospit a tiny golden speck. I blinked several times, shaking my head, trying my best to remember what had happened, to remember how I'd gotten here…but it was useless. All I remembered was flying towards Cruz's dream tower, then a series of blurry images…then right now.

And I wasn't done.

This weird loss of control of my own body had caught me off guard, but now I had returned to full awareness, suppressing the panic rising in my chest. When I felt the urge to start using my Aspect come over me again, I fought it. I broke out into a sweat, baring my teeth slightly as I pushed with all my mental might against that strong urge to use my Aspect. My skin began to feel hot, and I started getting a 'pins and needles' sensation all over my body.

Then something took hold of my mind. I could feel it… Like a completely different mind, settling itself down into the contours of my own mind. In the process, my own consciousness was nudged to the side while something…something else took control. Took more control, rather… I think the strong urge to use my Aspect had been a very limited form of control, but now that I had started fighting it…whatever was trying to control me had now resorted to a much more direct method.

My spine arched, and my muscles went rigid, forcing my arms to splay out to both sides. Whatever had taken control of me obviously was not very accomplished at actually manipulating bodies. My body and limbs were jerked around pretty haphazardly. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and actually really painful, but I didn't stop trying to fight this foreign presence in my mind.

It almost reminded me of bloodbending, from Avatar—the real Avatar, not the formerly upcoming blue-people rendition—how my body was being moved. It was like the force controlling me could pluck strings attached to my limbs, rather than actually being able to move my limbs themselves.

Finally, my spine arched further and further back until it really started to hurt. I actually grew afraid that my back would break if I strained any harder, so I had to surrender control of myself completely, or risk some major spine snappage. I felt nauseous, drifting through outer space with my own body and mind held hostage.

Then I started to use my Aspect. I could feel all the little atoms, humming in the space all around me…and I began to feed them energy. I began to generate energy to excite them. Gradually, more and more atoms absorbed the energy and their charges were altered, turning them into ions, and—wait, how the fuck does my dream self know all this? I don't know what I'm talking about.

Before long, the very space around me seemed to crackle and pulse with a teeming energy as a cloud of ions began to form. And as the size of the cloud grew, I could feel myself pushing it further out into the darkness, using my Aspect to generate the kinetic energy necessary to propel it. For some reason, someone had hijacked my mind and body to fly me out into the middle of nowhere…to create some electric charge and send it off towards one of the eight planets.

I could see the planet the charge was rippling off towards. It was a darker, shadowy planet, shrouded in a gray mist. Why did it need this little electrical pulse? Was there an evil radio that needed to be fried?

I couldn't have stopped agitating those atoms and sending them off in that makeshift flare even if I'd wanted to. Every time I tried to resist, my spine started arching and straining again. Almost as if my body were willing to kill itself if I couldn't fully maintain control. I hung there, trapped in outer space for what seemed like hours. After I gave up raging against the foreign presence in my mind, I just felt weary. I hung slack, held up by my own Vis.

This was really strange—I have never once felt weary while I was dreaming. Quite the contrary; I've gone in-depth about how I always felt much more awake and clear while I was my dream self. But never tired… I think I was being drained, somehow. Dream selves were obviously capable of much more powerful displays of their controlling Aspects, but I guess even they had their limits.

And I was getting dangerously close to mine.

After what felt like at least six or so hours of this constant forced display of my Aspect, the foreign presence dominating my mind withdrew suddenly. And as it went, I could hear a familiar voice—not the Phantom's voice; someone else's…

Sorry, dude… That was all the voice said as the presence in my mind vanished. Just those two words…but I recognized that voice. I have no idea how he was able to do it, but I knew that it was him… And then I swore loudly, knowing that I wouldn't be able to contact him until the next time I fell asleep. This was going to eat at me all day tomorrow.

But it turned out, I didn't even get the chance to be bothered by what had happened to my dream self. I woke up not long after my mind was released back to my own control—Jesus, the fact that a sentence like that can actually make sense is a testament to how fucked up this game was really becoming. After I woke up, I discovered much to my surprise that it was nearly sunset, and I had been in a coma of sorts for the past twenty-four hours. Scales had been trying to rouse me, without success.

I guess the force that had taken my dream self's mind and body hostage had refused to allow my dream self to fall asleep, which would consequently prevent my real self from waking up. My consciousness could only occupy one body at a time. At least, that's one of the rules that I just now decided to start living by, because it actually makes some semblance of sense.

Fortunately, though, I was still able to fall asleep after the sun went down, despite already having a full day of sleep under my belt. Hey, I guess I just have a massive sleep debt I still need to pay off. I mean, whatever; I just wanted to get back to my dream computer so I could log into PalHassle.

I opened my eyes to the sight of the green ceiling of my dream room on the golden moon of Prospit. I closed them momentarily, breathing a sigh of relief. No matter where I went on Prospit's moon, I always ended up back in my bed when I woke up the next time. I was incredibly thankful for that—I'd be stuck drifting in space right now if… Bleh, forget it. It didn't happen that way; that's all that matters.

At first I was gripped with that same desire I get every time I wake up here—to fly out, see a bunch of cool shit, and have a generally good time. But then I saw my dream computer, and the memories of my last dream filled my mind. Forced to fly out into space and generate enough ions to make a solar flare look like the squirt of a water gun.

No, I had a bone to pick with one of our mutual acquaintances, and I saw that he was online after checking PalHassle.

-anomalousThespian began hassling gentlemanConsigliere-

AT: alright, gino
AT: i've been waiting a goddamn day for this, asshole
AT: so spill the beans
GC: ?
GC: wat r u talkin about
AT: don't play dumb, you know exactly what i'm talking about
AT: you know?
AT: that time when you fucking mind-raped me and forced me out into space to do a goddamn science fair show?
GC: oh that
AT: yeah, that.
AT: glad to see the recollective juices flowing there.
GC: look bro, i'm the prince of mind, aight? it's what i do
GC: can't be takin shit like that personally, yo
GC: had 2 be done
GC: u were the only one who could help me
GC: but hot damn, it was fuckin difficult!
GC: normally i can just make people do shit by thinkin it, but with u i actually had to get into ur brain and fuckin manually haul ur ass out there
AT: what do you mean i was the only one who could help you?
AT: ever consider asking before seizing control of your friends?
GC: that would've taken way 2 much time
GC: we were on a bit of a timetable with Theo, but u saved his life
AT: …
AT: okay, i'm listening.
GC: uh dude i told u, i don't have time 2 fuckin explain all this shit
GC: Theo's safe now, but Cass's dream self is still in the dungeons
GC: she's gonna need me soon
AT: wait, what about cass?
GC: later

-gentlemanConsigliere is no longer hassling anomalousThespian

I shut off my dream computer with a frustrated exhalation. Did everyone here have a date with Cass Galavis but me?

I wished I could do something to help out on Derse. I feel like my abilities would be put to better use out there. I mean, don't think I'm tooting my own horn when I say I'm one of the most combat-oriented members of our party; it's just fact. I'm a warrior class whose powers just happen to be very well-suited for wrecking shit. And is it wrong that I thought it was kind of a waste to put someone like me on Prospit, where nothing happens? Why should Gino get all the fun?

Maybe there was just something I wasn't seeing yet. I guess I wouldn't just end up on Prospit for no reason. Nothing in this strange dimension seems to exist for no reason. Everything existed to fulfill a purpose, or existed as a result of something else fulfilling its purpose. But I guess the trick was just finding out what that purpose is, or simply being patient until your shining moment arrived. Or even just accepting the fact that maybe you were fulfilling your purpose without even knowing it.

Bleh, fuck it. Dreams are no place for thoughts that can weigh you down. I think it was high time I got the hell out of this room and did some quality flying. The Prospitians who lived on the golden moon loved it when Tami, Cruz, and I fucked around in the sky. I mean, we were all just having a good time together—our dreams on Prospit were the one time we got to hang out and not give a general shit about whatever our real selves were doing. Except for Cruz, that is—ever since he'd been murdered and revived as his dream self, Prospit became his new life. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't jealous.

Then again... Maybe it was time to make some changes. Time to shake things up. But first, I needed to unwind.

I stepped out of the window and let myself float up gently into the air, rather than soaring right off into the sky like I usually did. I let the light wind currents buffet me around in the correct general direction to Cruz's tower. As I started making some headway, I remembered to glance back over my shoulder.

During the big, brutish Dersite Agent's assassination attempt on my dream self—well, I guess that was technically me at the moment—I had been able to free myself with an explosion fueled by my Aspect. While having the benefit of saving my life, that explosion had actually destroyed a good portion of my dream room. However, after two or three days, the Prospitians managed to completely repair it. And as I was looking back at it now, I couldn't even tell there had ever been an explosion at all.

Prospitians were good at fixing things, it would seem.

I began flying faster, with a bit more purpose, now. As I neared Cruz's tower, I started to hear the familiar, discordant guitar noises coming from inside, as well as what sounded like…was that Mi Swing es Tropical? You know, that awesome song sung entirely in Spanish that everyone hears all the time, but no one remembers the name of?

I think it was.

As the music grew louder, the distinct smell of marijuana grew stronger. Yep, Cruz was definitely in. I reached his window, only to find myself staring into one of his hemp blankets. I frowned at the blanket, raising my hand reflexively almost as if I wanted to knock, but then I realized how ridiculous knocking on a hemp blanket would be. So I used the good old vocal cords instead.

"Cruz!" I called into the blanket. "You in there, bro?"

There was some coughing from within, followed by what sounded like a cascade of objects falling to the floor. "Come in, come in!" Cruz hollered. The blanket was pulled aside, revealing the Sage of Space in all his stoned, Spacey glory. The other three windows of his room were also blocked up by his hemp blankets. The room was currently lit by Cruz's lava lamps and the light of his TV, which had the Xbox 360 screen showing. The smell of pot hung heavy in the air, and I could actually see the smoke swirling around.

I had to say, I was impressed. "Nice hotbox," I remarked as I ducked through the window and set foot back down on solid ground.

"The nicest," Cruz's face was split by his trademark, toothy grin. As he covered the window back up, he frowned at my Prospit pajamas. "Bro, you ever gonna clean that blood off?"

"You think I haven't tried, like, a hundred times already?" I asked. "It just won't come out!"

"One of life's great misterios, I guess," Cruz shrugged, his mind already moving on to more interesting thoughts. He invited me to have a seat in his beanbag chair while he hopped up onto his bed, grabbing his Xbox controller as he went and sliding his Left 4 Dead disc into the console. We'd agreed to play Left 4 Dead next time we chilled in Cruz's tower, which I guess just so happened to be now. "So, you just chillin', bro, or you got another reason for visiting?"

"Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, but I'm also here to chill," I answered evenly. "Figured we could talk while slaughtering some Infected."

"Works for me!" Cruz tossed me a second Xbox controller. By then, the Left 4 Dead main menu had appeared on his TV. He then picked up his bong and started repacking it while I got myself signed in.

"So I'm feeling either No Mercy or Blood Harvest," I said to my friend as I started setting up our game. "You have a preference?"

"Oh, No Mercy, hands down."

"Good choice."

"Oh, and leave me Zoey!" my friend hollered over.

I gave Cruz a look. "Bro, when have you ever known me to play as any character who isn't Bill?"

"Yeah, good point," Cruz giggled. After he finished packing his bong, he quickly selected his character and got the game started. As the loading screen popped up onto the TV, he passed me his bong and lighter, offering me greens.

I took the bong and started taking my hit, grinning inwardly as I heard the familiar sound of burbling bong water. Then I removed the slider, emptying the chamber in one giant breath. I blew a sizable plume of smoke towards the ceiling, saturating the hotbox just that much more. When I passed the bong back, the loading screen went away, replaced with the opening sequence of the No Mercy campaign.

My God, it's been a long time since I've played Xbox. Not since at least…a month ago? Two, three weeks? I hadn't played any kind of video game since before my life turned into the upside down shitfuck it'd been ever since the meteors started falling from the sky. April 13th. That's when the meteors started falling. How long had it been since then?

I couldn't remember.

We passed the bong around two or three times, not talking much as we played through the first part of No Mercy. Once we got to the second chapter, though, we were giggling and whooping with laughter every time an Infected went flying from our well-aimed shotgun blasts.

"HAH!" Cruz let out a belt of laughter when I tried to shove a boomer away, only to have it explode in my face, obscuring my half of the screen with boomer bile. "Get that boomer jizz off you, amigo, c'mon!"

Damn it, I hate boomers… I flailed around for several seconds as I was swarmed with Infected, pumping the living shit out of the left trigger, which was the melee button. That was one thing I loved about Left 4 Dead—if you ever found yourself in a tight spot, you could just back into a corner and keep on spamming the melee button until your finger fell off. And that's pretty much what I did, minus the loss of extremities.

"So, uh…" Cruz shifted into a more comfortable position on his bed as he continued to mow down waves of attacking Infected with his automatic shotgun. "What made you wanna come chill? I mean, normally you prefer flyin' around and doing stupid shit to impress the Prospitians!"

"Just needed to relax…" I shrugged. "Went through some interesting shit with Gino, yesterday, and I just needed to unwind a bit."

"What? Is he being a dick to you, again?"

"You could say that," I grunted, the memory of being forced to fly away from Prospit to create what amounted to an artificial solar flare sobering me up slightly. "Apparently being the Prince of Mind means he can turn people into his own personal meat puppets." I described what had happened to me during my last dream here, how Gino had seized control of my body.

"I'm sorry man, that must've felt motherfuckin' terrible! Why'd Gino do it?"

"Fuck if I know," I shrugged. "Said something about saving Theo's life, but he wouldn't explain."

"Makes sense, I guess," Cruz said. "Gino wouldn't do something like that for no reason—HUNTER!" My friend nearly jumped out of his skin as the agile, hoodie-sporting special infected came flying out of nowhere and pounced him.

I disagreed with Cruz's statement about Gino, but decided to keep it to myself. Every time I spoke out against Gino, people would automatically assume it was because I was still bitter over last year. I mean, I guess I still was…but that didn't mean I was incapable of getting pissed at him for other reasons. Like hijacking my brain, for example. Little things like that.

We stopped talking about serious shit for the next couple hours. We played through the rest of No Mercy and were able to finish the Dead Air campaign before our high wore off. Well, before my high wore off—Cruz kept right on smoking throughout the entire game. As the credits for Dead Air began to roll across the screen, I put down my controller, stretching and yawning quickly before standing up. "Thanks for this, Cruz," I said to my best friend. "Really."

"No prob, bro!" Cruz grinned. "Anytime you wanna chill, man, the Sage's door is always wide open! Or my windows, at least. I don't got any doors here, heh."

"Cruz…" I cleared my throat, trying to think of the best way to word what I was about to say. When I couldn't think of a 'best way', I just kinda thought fuck it and jumped into the deep end. "Cruz, look… There's also another reason why I wanted to see you."

"Are you coming out of the closet, man?" Cruz raised an eyebrow. "I love you, bro, but not that much!"

I bit back the dozen or so sarcastic responses that immediately tried to force their way out through my mouth. Now wasn't the time for more jokes. "I came to say goodbye, for a while, Cruz. I'm leaving Prospit."