Dreamed 1999/1/13 by Chris Wayan
I dreamed I was walking on a little path winding between oaks and over grassy California hills, while the humans zoomed by on their freeway far below.
I bet you think this is eco-preaching. We should get out of our cars... Wrong! I had very mixed feelings. The hills were pretty, but lonely; I like meeting other travelers. Plus, I WANTED to get there fast--wherever there was.
But I just couldn't handle their road. Noise, exhaust, speed, danger. Particularly the car exhaust. I was violently allergic to it. That freeway just wasn't open to me. Even the hills here had pale smoggy skies, blowing downwind from the Bay Area.
This slow path was the best I could find, in a world built for others.
Okay, accuracy time. I can't recall just what I was. Some sort of person who didn't mind hoofing it... but whether I was male or female and biped quadruped or centauroid, I couldn't recall when I woke.
And it hardly matters how I looked. I wasn't racially barred, but biochemically.
And that's literal. I tend to forget my environmental illness day to day, since I've arranged my life to avoid much of modern America. I take it for granted there are vast areas uninhabitable for me--but not you. This dream reminds me. I do forget, and then wonder why I'm lonely and progressing so slowly... when I'm not even your species.
Or might as well not be.
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