I was less stressed out by the time we went back to bed, and had another dream about the unhappy girl. She was sitting on a whitestone roof, looking very wan and confused and vague, like she’d been doped up on drugs. I had a good view of the scenery, and divided my attention between the girl (who sat unmoving, even when it started to drizzle) and trying to memorise as much detail as possible of a busy Muinan-style city. It looked like Nuriath must once have looked, although there was a single very tall statue off to my left. It was facing away from me, and dominated the city.
After a good survey I tried to go kneel in front of the girl, but that made me aware that I didn’t have a me to kneel with, and so I woke up. All this waking up (and using my talents while sleeping) meant I spent the day feeling gluggy and tired. Despite longing to get things done, I was glad that they decided to make the day a training day instead of another session in the Ena. Not that I felt like exercising either.
Fortunately, Mara toned back her intensity, and we even had time to fit in another swimming session for the kids with Zan. Rye’s determination to do well in front of Kaoren at least sparks an equal determination in Ys to not lag behind, so they both made good progress. Sen is growing more confident with the dog paddle, and thus less inclined to cling, and the three of them looked to be enjoying just paddling back and forth to each other (in that so-funny little-kid way which makes them look like frantic frogs). Kaoren’s been off in a Captain’s meeting most of the evening, and it felt very strange to have dinner without him. I’ve yet to understand the difference between the meetings he can attend over the interface and the ones he has to go to in person.
Ys is drawing ahead of Rye in terms of reading ability, judging from their attempts with the beginning of tonight’s chapter. Taren isn’t nearly so inconsistent a language as English, and they’re both able to consistently sound out words now, just with varying levels of speed and some distinctly odd syllable breaks. I did notice that they’re beginning to shift to a more Taren rather than Nuran accent, which I guess is what you get when you cram yourself full of Taren schooling for weeks on end.
And it has been weeks. That really amazes me to think about. We’ve had the kids with us for over a month now. The idea of them belonging with us is beginning to solidify into a reality. And Kaoren and I are more certain about each other every day. I’ve been able to put aside my sense of impending doom to simply be thankful for all the good things which came with the bad.
Tuesday, September 30
Blocked
I dreamed of my girl again. She was sneaking through a series of rooms and corridors, dodging and hiding behind walls, dashing across open spaces. There were a lot of guards about, dressed in cream tunics and carrying heavy, ornate spears. No glowing eye flashes anywhere in this dream, but I did start wondering if I was watching an episode of Junior-League Stargate, which is why I’m so uncertain whether these dreams are important.
My girl was very good at sneaking about, although I think she was still drugged or whatever was wrong with her last time. Occasionally she would stop and develop a lost and confused expression, and once was nearly caught during an unfocused moment. When she wasn’t confused she seemed upset and frustrated and angry, again reminding me so much of Ys' fulminating determination.
I didn’t see the outside of the building she was working her way through, but it seemed to have an awful lot of rooms, and three or four levels. It wasn’t until she reached the central chamber that I realised we were in some kind of pyramid. The walls stepped upward in tiers to a small square ceiling which was glowing with a greeny-gold light, picking out glints which might be symbols in a big black…dome tent made of stone. That’s the best I can describe it – the shape of a big black cloth which had been pinned to the ground at the corners and then blown upward so that it formed a stone bubble, the unpinned sections curving higher to provide four entrances. It was hard to see what was underneath it – just dark and glints of the greeny-gold light, giving the space an aquatic gloom.
There were guards in the room, and the girl was watching from the uncertain shelter of one of the corridors leading into it. She grew very keyed up and nervous as she watched and waited, and shrank back at the first sign of movement under the stone tent. And then they came out. Eight foot tall, dressed in simple robes, blindingly beautiful. These weren’t fit, good-looking people like the Setari; they had an extreme physical perfection which makes me think Michelangelo, or Photoshop. Beyond flawless, honed to an eye-flinching glory which declared their importance, like they had their own personal lens flare.
The Photoshop Gods made me feel small in a way which had nothing to do with height. They just were…powerful. Power-filled. Maze might have called Inisar beyond formidable, but Inisar has never made me feel like he could effortlessly squish me like a bug – even if that’s true. I swear the air vibrated as they walked past.
All the stern guards either bowed their head sharply, or turned to follow the Photoshop Gods, and that was the girl’s chance. She dashed silently forward toward the dome, except the closer she got the slower she moved, like she was trying to walk under water. She made it, though, staggering through into the shadowy light to a place which was full of sarcophagi standing tilted upright like at Arenrhon, except without lids or little nameplates. The sarcophagi were arranged in a circle around a central pillar, and one still had a Photoshop God in it, a man laying all limp and motionless, his golden skin looking weird and waxy in the odd light, and his lens flare turned off.
And there was noise, a low whispering which instantly brought me back to my dream of being trapped.
The girl was heading toward one of the empty sarcophagi, her face all screwed up from effort. But she hadn’t gone unnoticed, and one of the guards was already racing toward her, and her spear flashed forward, and my vain attempt to stop it woke me up.
I think – I’m not sure, but I think the spear went through the girl, not in a blood and piercing way, but in a one-of-these-things-isn’t-tangible kind of way.
I was still very upset, of course, and though I tried to be all analytical and detached describing it to Kaoren, I ended up bursting into tears and crying all over him. Again it was really hard to explain why I was so upset, beyond that she reminded me of Ys and I felt sorry for her.
"Don’t discount the strength of your reaction," Kaoren said. "Whether this just happened, or is the past, or on some level a fiction, it gives us new possibilities to follow."
"Do you think that she might have been a ghost – an Ionoth like my Ghost – or is there any super-rare talent for being insubstantial?"
"You said she kicked a ball in the earlier dream."
"That wouldn’t necessarily make her not a ghost. Ghosts are supposed to be able to focus their energy to move things. And that would explain all those kids being afraid of her."
I hope some sense can be made of it all, and soon. No progress during today’s test in the Ena, where they decided to let me try and project the last room of my dream, and all I succeeded in doing was straining myself to the point that I started shaking and spent the rest of the day having muscle tremors. They still haven’t quite gone away.