roseembolism (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roseembolism) wrote2010-07-16 11:18 am
roseembolism) wrote2010-07-16 11:18 am
Entry tags:
Sublimating my Desire to Wear a Fedora
It was a restless night- and I had three clear dreams that woke me up each time.
It involved a threat of extortion from Hell, and a succubus. I don't remember it much. Really. Shut up.
This was exactly like a noirish movie, with little dream shifting. It was set in an alternate 1930s, in someplace classy and middle-European, like Bhupapest. My character, a tough guy in the elegant "Rick of Casablanca" style and his lover had to escape before the revolution, or war, or simply because they were in political trouble. In order to get the money fort he ship, I agreed to work one night, and one night only for "The Fat Man" the sleazy and dangerous owner of the local casino. One night that would net him a fortune, because I would always know what the dice would end up as, or where the roulette ball would fall. The Fat Man thought I could predict where they fell, but the truth was I had weak telekinesis, and could make things fall where I wanted. I threatened a thug to get to see the Fat Man, and then when I made the deal, that if anything happened to my lover, he would die, as slowly and painfully as imaginable.
The inevitable happened: my lover was murdered, and boiling with revenge, I walked into the casino, looking for the Fat Man. None of the guards could stop me, they came and they died, because my telekinesis may be weak, but it was strong enough to move dice...and strong enough to squeeze an artery in the brain, or a pacemaker nerve. Until I met his bodyguard who kept coming at me, no matter how many times I did a fatal attack.
Felt scripted almost like a TV documentary. A bunch of poor and not-too-smart workmen in pre-W.W.I England decided to fake a major archaeological find. At first the cuneiform bricks they dug up in the ditch caused a sensation; tourists and fame happened, though not enough money. But soon things went sour, as scientists and newspapers became skeptical and accusations of fraud surfaced. The leader had the bright I idea to plant more bricks to restart the fame and make more money, but my character tried to stop him because one find might be excusable, but the same people making two major finds? That would be proof it was a fraud. And then the alcoholic and violent member of the group returned from a trip and decided we were holding out on him; he began throwing knives at a couple of us, and my friend having had enough, shouted STOP IT, and threw a knife back, killing the man. The judge was sympathetic and considered it self defense, but when the dream ended my friend was sentenced to five years in prison....
For some reason I'm exhausted today.
It involved a threat of extortion from Hell, and a succubus. I don't remember it much. Really. Shut up.
This was exactly like a noirish movie, with little dream shifting. It was set in an alternate 1930s, in someplace classy and middle-European, like Bhupapest. My character, a tough guy in the elegant "Rick of Casablanca" style and his lover had to escape before the revolution, or war, or simply because they were in political trouble. In order to get the money fort he ship, I agreed to work one night, and one night only for "The Fat Man" the sleazy and dangerous owner of the local casino. One night that would net him a fortune, because I would always know what the dice would end up as, or where the roulette ball would fall. The Fat Man thought I could predict where they fell, but the truth was I had weak telekinesis, and could make things fall where I wanted. I threatened a thug to get to see the Fat Man, and then when I made the deal, that if anything happened to my lover, he would die, as slowly and painfully as imaginable.
The inevitable happened: my lover was murdered, and boiling with revenge, I walked into the casino, looking for the Fat Man. None of the guards could stop me, they came and they died, because my telekinesis may be weak, but it was strong enough to move dice...and strong enough to squeeze an artery in the brain, or a pacemaker nerve. Until I met his bodyguard who kept coming at me, no matter how many times I did a fatal attack.
Felt scripted almost like a TV documentary. A bunch of poor and not-too-smart workmen in pre-W.W.I England decided to fake a major archaeological find. At first the cuneiform bricks they dug up in the ditch caused a sensation; tourists and fame happened, though not enough money. But soon things went sour, as scientists and newspapers became skeptical and accusations of fraud surfaced. The leader had the bright I idea to plant more bricks to restart the fame and make more money, but my character tried to stop him because one find might be excusable, but the same people making two major finds? That would be proof it was a fraud. And then the alcoholic and violent member of the group returned from a trip and decided we were holding out on him; he began throwing knives at a couple of us, and my friend having had enough, shouted STOP IT, and threw a knife back, killing the man. The judge was sympathetic and considered it self defense, but when the dream ended my friend was sentenced to five years in prison....
For some reason I'm exhausted today.