rusty_halo

Everybody's doing it:
Johari Window
Nohari Window

Hey, look at the snow.

I went out briefly yesterday (my caffeine addiction overcame my laziness, so I went to the corner deli for coffee). NYC is so neat when it's snowing--there's a peaceful silence that you never get otherwise, because of the lack of traffic and the way snow muffles sound. And there's such a tranquility when everything is covered in white.

Of course, it loses its loveliness quickly when you're late for work, sliding precariously along the sidewalk and climbing over gigantic mounds of dirty snow at every corner.

I had two strange dreams last night. In one, I was in a big meeting full of business people, because my company was working somehow with Raymond Watts. Our former publicity person was talking to his lawyers and reassuring him that everyone at our company likes and believes in his work. And we were trying to convince him to come to DragonCon, and going over a preliminary schedule. We're a publisher, so in the dream it was like he'd written a book.

The other dream was very unusual for me--a sort of epic fantasy type thing in which a force of ultimate evil had caused the sun to stop rising, and I was part of a group of people on a quest to restore the sun. The part I remember most vividly is that another force for good (sort of like gods, not my group of humans) was trying to make the sun rise, but they lacked the essential ingredient, so a sort of fake-looking metal sun would rise in the sky, fall, rise again in a different form, struggle, but never cast any real sunlight.

The world was in a dreary twilight haze. I was on the side of a tall hill (covered with rocks and small shrubs), and the sun they were attempting to lift was to my left. In front of me was the emptiness where the devil (?) had taken the sun. My group was trying to fight the (devil?) so at some point a bunch of us ran down there and did something (magical?) to it, but nothing worked. I was the last person, however, and I had something up my sleeve--some kind of disc, like a Netflix DVD, of which I had the last in existence (at least that anyone knew about). I slipped it into the darkness while the devil was distracted, laughing at all the failed people who'd gone before me.

The disc wouldn't actually cause the sun to rise, but it was a warning that I knew how and was going to begin my method of restoring the sun. The disc first caused glitter to rise up, little silver sparkles in the air, which didn't do much. But then they zoomed outward, like shooting stars, so bright they were blinding and scary, leaving bright streaks in the sky. More streaks followed the silver ones, these golden, and the streaks stayed in the sky and began to glow, with real sunlight, not artificial light, and the world was lit again as if the sun had risen. This caused all the people to rally and restore their effort to bring back the sun for real.

Yeah. Strange. And I remember so vividly, standing on the hill watching the fake sun try to rise, trying to work myself up to fight to restore the real sun.