I saw the most freakish thing last night -- two guys on the street dressed as dogs and hidden among real dogs. They had their faces painted, and one seemed to have his hands modified to look like paws. They had the posture down, and it took a long time to realize they weren't dogs with very human faces; they were weird humans posing as dogs.
This was only the first part of an epic dream. In the dream, I decided I needed to blog about the fake dogs, so here I am. I followed one of the fake dogs into a warehouse space where a group of guerrilla artists were composing a performance art extravaganza to heal a broken world. Seriously.
The space had a murky river running through it, full of slugs and trash. Overhanging this was a decaying shelter of sorts that the arts group hoped to have preserved as a historic site. Surrounding this were twilit garden spaces full of fake, giant plants, and organic cottages. These spaces could be rented by the exceptionally rich in a world with limited natural and open spaces.
When I became a character in this world, I worked for the Corporation that seemed to control and assign duties to all but the wealthiest of citizens. I wanted to escape, and discovered I had flying powers like the kind I've always had in my most vivid dreams. Inhale and I sort of rise, as if through water -- the flying's a cross between swimming and gliding, and I have to glide in wide circles to avoid a heavy landing. I soared around the ruins and gardens, trying to land where I wouldn't get spotted by the Man.
One of my weirder dreams this winter inspired my friend Scott to do a freewrite, which you can read here.
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