My mind can take a Miriad of little dreams and connect them. I’m writing this in first person as that’s mostly how it was.
It starts with me waking groggily to some noise outside. I don’t pay much heed but go to my roommates room where she is doing something at her desk. I lay on her bed with the intention of falling back to sleep but she engages me in conversation and I start to see sweet things in her. I like her and this could develop but mom interrupted and yells at her if she’s going to eat the dozen tomatoes or shortage just throw them out. She says sharp bu not mean she would if mom put them in her drawer. Mom grumbles then yells at me for laying on her bed stomps through the room to the other door. I do something I never do and yell at her. Why are you being so bitxhy? She keeps going. My friend and I exchange looks then I get up. I move the few good tomatoes to her drawer and toss out the ones that look stomped.
I look up and hear more commotion outside and go look. There’s a protest or something going on st a tall building across the way and I go get involved. It’s fuzzy but there’s a lot of yelling and some people waving forms like those I made at work. The issue is somehow solved but not totally peacefully and I go to the top of the building.
Up there is a beautiful sunset where I’m looking west with my girl and talking about the trip we will take
Then we’re at dinner with a group of friends on another rooftop diner. and my older friend mary is upset I didn’t talk to her first to make the travel arrangements through her agency as it would have been cheaper.
As we dine there’s some special waiters that are singing or something and one older frail looking guy in particular waves his hand and dishes go flying through the air. These are heavy bluerimmed china. They miraculously slide to a stop on a central bar area stacked and without crashing. They even slide to a stop in an almost perfect line. One plate slid a little further than the rest and a man who was sweating pushed it into place as he mumbles how scared he was and shocked he didn’t have to catch any. Then there was a boom mike or some other equipment seen to the side and a voice saying to do it again. That poor guy started fretting.
And then I was off to catch the train. My suitcase was thrown on board but we weren’t going anywhere. I walked around the train to the engin and saw a frail golem like woman holding for dear life onto the side of the train her skinny legs wrapped around that round thing. She was the wife of someone I knew but was more a creature now. I wasn’t supposed to see her but now I had she called to her people to attack. Some thugs went for the train a few went for me. It was a bloodbath but I won. Though there was one last thug with a knife or baton coming for me near the cab of the engine.
Cut screen. Game paused. In large pixelated font an old style silent movie card flashed before me saying “all the wrong things for the right reasons ” the computer game sent me back near the beginning where I didn’t yell at my mom or help my friend but went straight to the riot at the building took that form and filled it in for the people even though they were supposed to but it made them settle. Then cut back to the train where instead of confronting mrs golem with a fishing pole cat toy I fished for her across a ravine. She tried to grab the toy but fell in instead. She never had a chance to call the thugs and the train moved on as scheduled with no one hurt.
Finally resting I watched the skinny man who threw the dishes in fact created them with a brush stroke. He was painting but wasn’t happy. He was a famous painter and reduced to this. He grumbled. He did another long slash of the brush off the painting and while no dishes came out a production woman came up with a few sketches to compare to his painting. They were of a window night time scene. A pale moon and clouds with a few hills. A simple picture but his was stylized almost Monet like with thick heavy paint but soft edges. Dark but colorful. He brooded that it was a simple piece and the lady tried to convince him they didn’t need complex for the movie. Her design was simple so they could show his magic. He complained it wasn’t even his design. As one last negotiation instead of their conflict I stepped in and told him the Beaty was it wasn’t his design but was still his as he could take that and make something beautiful out of it. He agreed took his brush and with a wide stroke produced some dishes that poor boy had to go scrambling over.