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Twilight's Oval Game

Dreamed 2017/10/4 by Wayan
for Gail Carson Levine and MLP fan Softy8088

Apologia

When I add to the World Dream Bank, I usually post stand-alone storylike dreams. Not today. Here's a tangle! First a day raising some uncomfortable issues, and then that night, three dreams (out of seven!) that address those issues. I do this now and again, as in The Black Current, Once a Hero, or Herself in Reverse. Why? I have double motives:

  1. These dreams cut deeper than many; their issues matter, though the complexity daunts me. For readers, it's a lesson in dreamwork--don't back down from the difficult ones! That's where the healing hides.
  2. I need to correct the impression that dreamwork's a neat process. Mine's not; just edited for clarity and accessibility. Readers do need that; dreamwork, like higher math, demands clear writing. But too neat, and I discourage you. "His dreams are so clear, and mine are a tangled mess!" Nope. I'm a mess too! And you need to know it.
 . Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge. That Day

I read randomly, voraciously.

Brakes squeal. Screams in the street! I leap up and look out the window. Lights flash. A bus has stopped. Hit someone? No... a gang is fighting inside! The bus driver & teens shout furiously. More yelling than blows, looks like.

At last, teens stomp out and scatter, scurrying fast--scared the cops will come?

My housemate Alder watches it all with interest, but I can't; cower behind the wall, fearing gunfire will erupt. Wow, that massacre in Vegas really shook me (if you've forgotten, a sniper shot hundreds, killing nearly sixty). But it's not just that; years ago, just yards away from this bus, I overheard an idle argument that suddenly burst into gunfire, hospitalizing one kid. Feel like our corner has this geological hotspot causing violent eruptions.

Of idiocy.

That Night
. Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge.

Dream 1: I'm a Tree-Killer! People-Killer!

As a buried memory slowly emerges, I feel a wave of guilt. I caused a magical tree to die! And when it fell, it killed someone--crushed beneath the tree. I'm not just a shamanic failure for losing that tree, I'm a murderer. Well, sort of. Indirectly.

It's clear why I buried the memory. Now that the guilt's surfaced, it's unbearable. I can't live with this!

But then, later, I realize... it was a dream. A vivid dream, yes--but one of 40,000. When you live that many lives, you can't be flawless in every one. Shamanism demands forgiveness. Including self-forgiveness.

"If George Orr had been inclined to guilt he would not have lived past thirty."
--Ursula Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven
Notes

Dream 2: Twilight's Oval Game

I'm in a huge echoing tech workshop, a Maker Space. Wander, perusing projects. Find a sort of pinball-landscape-table, tilted, oval, and big--over two meters long (about 4x7'). Pinball of the Gods! Occasional scoops along the rim each hide a handle controlling a flipper, well hidden in the landscape. Half a dozen at least, round the rim.

Half a dozen young guys--all guys--show me regions. Mountains open up, roar, bear crag-fangs, like the table's a huge pop-up book. Forests and towns unfold into creatures too. Clever origami! Critters and scenery have diverse styles--a chunky Cubist bear in the hills, a Deco dragon on a crag, an Art Nouveau peach-colored pegasus mare (is she Cadance?) rearing at the edge of the world... I think each designer must have built their own region. Yet it all harmonizes. Oh, I like this.

At the low end, where the town and the ball-gun and the main controls are, stands a lone girl among the boys. She shows me how to load cannonballs in the starting-gun so I can fire and try the pinball game. I fumble, can't even load it.

Embarrassed, I say "I have Lyme. It wrecks your fine motor skills and slows fast reactions. I... I won't be able to play, really." Even though I'm telling the truth, I feel like I'm making excuses.

Tilted pinbally oval gameboard in a makerspace. Looks like a map of Equestria. Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge.
Only as I wake do I realize that gameboard was designed so NO ONE can play well, solo. You can't reach all its flippers; just one or two. That's the lesson of the game. Play solo, if you like; but to play well, you need to play cooperatively--and a team of half a dozen is ideal. It's the game of friendship. Twilight Sparkle's game.

Notes

Dream 6: Caribbean Crystal Healing Caribbean girl holds red and blue healing crystals. Dream sketch by Wayan. Click to enlarge.

I meet a brown girl with distinctive wideset deerlike almond eyes, and a funny aura with horizontal energy-currents (unlike Asians Euros or Africans whose auras tend to sweep up or down--all you non-psychics will just have to trust me, her aura's weird but interesting). She's Native Caribbean--Taino, I think. She takes her shirt off so her boyfriend can rub two pieces of healing-jewelry on her skin. One has a glowing red domelike crystal; the other glows blue. They look like they're half flattened avocado (with light at the pit) and half magnifying glass (with thick flattened handle).

They need to be aligned just right to heal her. The guy tries all kinds of configurations. Treats them like suspenders, pasties, collarbones... She says "The in-line vertical setup feels best, among the ones you've tried..." but is it optimal?

I don't think of the whole business as sensual let alone sexual--they're problem-solving--till right at the end when she stops focusing on the feel of the devices' energy and really notices I'm watching too. She looks embarrassed/annoyed--but not very. After all, she grew up on a small Caribbean island off Guatemala that was still largely native, though not her ancestral tribe--her people came from the big islands farther east. Anyway, it was hot and humid and mostly Indian, so when she was growing up, hardly anyone wore shirts or tops; bare breasts were normal. She's acculturated enough to know and accomodate American nudity taboos, but she just lacks gringo squeamishness.

I'm curious about the culture and ask "Do they all sense healing energy like this?"

She kind of cringes. More uncomfortable about that than bare breasts! Is she ashamed of her people? Or does she just assume from my gringo look and accent that I'll find them quaint? Superstitious primitives?

When it's the opposite. I'm hoping, against the odds, that she tells me of a society with a place for shamans like me. Since I sure don't fit in here.

Ten Days Later

Last night, two out-of-town gangs came into our gang-free neighborhood and blasted a hundred rounds all over. Injuries, but because it was late night with few pedestrians, and heavy stucco walls that stopped most bullets... no deaths.

So my fear of bullets spraying our peaceful street turned out to be realistic. It was just before the mayhem, not after. And next morning, I found I was calm again; I knew what I'd been fearing was over. Think I'm mistaken, and I was just edgy over the coverage of the Vegas massacre? I don't. I've had premonitions of gun violence before--most notably annual nightmares about a shooting I witnessed. Not annually after the event, but before--two years, then one year, then the night before the actual murder: see Fetal Pause, A Date in Minsk and Monkey with a Gun. After such predictive dreams, I can't balk at predictive... flinches. And I'm hardly unique; see J.B. Priestley's essay on non-dream predictive emotional flashes, F.I.P..



LISTS AND LINKS:
Apologia: dreamwork - The Black Current - Once a Hero - Herself in Reverse -
That Day: cities - violence - fear - guns - books - the Net - royalty - incest - guilt - therapy & healing
I'm a Killer! violence - death - trees - shamanic dreams - memory & amnesia - guilt - therapy & healing
Twilight's Oval Game artists & the arts - rounds & ovals - scenery - games - friendship & teamwork - TV dreams - My Little Pony
Carib Girl babes, hunks & sexy creatures - healing - bodywork - auras - gems - nudity - breasts - islands - Caribbean - sociology - shamans - ESP in society
Ten Days Later: criminals - violence - fear - guns - predictive flashes - ESP in general - anniversary dreams - Fetal Pause, A Date in Minsk, Monkey with a Gun - F.I.P.

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