(I should preface this with the fact that I've been really sick lately.)
I was over visiting someone I kind of knew and going through her DVD collection, which included all eight DVDs of some anime I'd heard about and downloaded songs from, but never actually seen. It had some completely nonsensical name in English ("Bride of Darkness", I think) which I knew wasn't the proper translation from the Japanese, but I knew what it was about: a girl who was a singer and sang just for the joy of it, and all her adventures as she starts a garage band with a friend and all the ups and downs they have navigating today's music business. I started watching the first DVD on a computer monitor, set up at a desk a lot like the desk I had at Leo's place.
The dream blipped, and then I was watching along with madandrew
and some other people, sitting on a hardwood floor in a house I didn't recognize. I was making jokes at the screen, like when the bishonen musician character kissed the main character and later she made the blushing remark to someone else, "Oh, he's not my boyfriend," I added in her voice "We just kiss passionately a lot. Sometimes we fuck." (madandrew
threw a pillow at me and said "That was excessive.") Then round about episode 3 I noticed that I was in the anime.
Somehow, the main character and her guy were up in the high Arctic, but the earth was a lot smaller, spread out below them like a globe, and everything was all crystalline blue and white. She started singing some song about the ice, and it led into some other song about Europe below, and how from there it looked like it was all laid out into a "Europlaza". I started adding background vocals, and by the time the song was over, we were all back in this girl's garage. They complimented me on my singing, and I said I really enjoyed it and wanted to get back into music. I mentioned that I'd been meaning to learn how to play keyboards again, and the guy (who at that point looked remarkably like Steve Altsman) said "I'm sure you could do it if you tried." I was standing in front of an old mirror, and made some remark about "I'm sure you're right, that's been the case pretty often lately." I checked myself out in the mirror, and because I was wearing a crop top, I noticed that I had abs
. Really, really well-built abs. "Holy shit!" I said. "I guess all those situps have been working!" My surprisingly ripped body and I decided to go to the pool at the apartment complex where I was living and swim some laps in the pool, so we took off.
I got to the pool and was already wearing a purple bathing suit, so I guess I must have changed clothes in the dream or something. I took off my glasses, watch and jewelry and left them on a table that someone had vacated, and dived into the shallow end even though I wasn't supposed to. Some large, well-built guy who looked remarkably like Hulk Hogan jumped in too, and he got bitched at but I didn't.
I started to do the backstroke across the pool, and as I did I noticed that a lot of people were paying attention to another woman backstroking. Her name was Susan Cox and she'd been recruited by the apartment complex for their competition swim team (?!) because she was a renowned swimmer, but someone commented that they were really disappointed in her performance because her form was bad. She needed to be throwing her shoulders into it more. I took that to heart and started using my shoulders more, and got to the wall very fast.
At the wall I flipped around and started to stroke back. Through some mechanism which I fail to understand, the popularity of my webcomic (which I evidently had started) on some comics site was linked to how fast I was swimming, so I swam like hell. At first it was a struggle and I started to lose ranking, but I swam even harder and saw my comic's popularity go up and up in the standings. (All this commentary was animated like something on Cartoon Network. It was very vivid and these words aren't doing it justice.) By the time I finished, people were calling me up to give me advice on how I could get my comic out faster in order to satisfy my hordes of fans.
I got out of the pool but I didn't have a towel, so to dry off I walked around it the long way. There was a building on the far side of the pool. When I got over there, I saw that the building had no back wall, and wasn't actually a building, just two walls about five feet apart and no roof. John was in there, covered in dust and sitting next to some clay that might have been a half-finished sculpture. As I walked past him I quietly sang out, "Fuck you."
"You too," he whispered, glaring at me.
"Any time you're ready," I whispered back, still walking on. Something lit up in his eyes, and I added, "...Sucker."
He looked totally crestfallen, and held out his arms. I stopped. He came up to me, and put his arms around me, and tried to explain that he was sorry, that he wanted to try again, &c. The dialogue got kind of unclear at this point, but it ended with me shaking my head and walking away.
The last bit of the dream was laid out like two panels of a comic book. The first panel showed a teacher in a classroom, reciting lines from Yeats' "The Second Coming" as John and I take notes in the front row:
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all convictions, while the worst
Are filled with passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The second panel shows me from a left rear three-quarter view; John is visible three-quarter front behind me. I look down at the upturned palm of my left hand and murmur, "I wonder what it might mean?" John looks on, with an expression of concern and despair.
And then the dream ended.