October 30th, 2003 CE

I dreamed that I was in a mall. It reminded me of Metrotown in many ways, although some of the specifics were off, a bit.

In this dream, it seems that at one point, everyone had at one time had super powers of some sort, but that this time had pretty much passed. I was able to fly in this dream, with great effort and difficulty. Lifting myself up off the ground wasn't easy, requiring me to really focus on the task.

I heard someone talking about how it was now impossible for people to fly, for some reason, and I decided to demonstrate to her that she was wrong. I told her to look over at me. I then hoisted myself up into the air, and was surprised as she seemed unimpressed; she made some oblique comment on the pants I was wearing which I wasn't really able to grasp thew intent of. I told her "That's not really what I meant for you to focus on", and pointed out that I was, indeed, flying. She told me that I was just being held aloft by a bunch of wires. I told her this was nonsense. She proceeded to take a polaroid photo of me and showed it to me. Sure enoug, there were four thick metal cables extending down out of some indeterminate point in the air down into the flesh of my back, as though they were secured to four ribs inside my body. I specifically remember the image of the flesh around the points where the wires entered my body being all grown around the cables, like they had been there for a really long time.

I passed my hand around my back, groping about for these wires, but couldn't seem to find them. Looking in a mirror, I couldn't see them either. They were only detectable in photos of me, it would seem. I was most perplexed. I flew off, trying to figure out the physics of this; where the wires originated from, how they did what they did, and such, since I still seemed to be in mental control of my flight. Oddly, it seemed easier to manouvre myself around with this realization.

As I moved through the mall, I saw, below me, a shop on the lower level, a small white dog with a light blue swastika on it's side. I wondered who the hell would put a swastika on the side of a dog, and swooped down to investigate. There was a harsh-looking blonde-haired woman in the shop who seemed to work there. I asked her about this, still hovering a few feet off the ground, making no secret of how distasteful I found what had been done with this dog. She refused to answer, and began to back away from me. I followed after her, demanding she explain why she would do something like this. She disappeared behind some clothes hanging from a rack in the corner of the shop, and when I pulled them aside, she was gone; there was a sort of secret door in the wall, which had been hidden by the clothes there. I wondered why she wouldn't answer me. Upset, I decided to just steal some of the stuff from her store in her absence in retaliation. I took some ice cream treats from the freezer by the door and left the mall.

Outside, I found a massive highway, perhaps twelve lanes accross, at the bottom of a steep valley; there were hills leading up from it on either side which went up perhaps three or four storeys. There were walkways set into either hill perhaps two storey above the level of the road, and a massive overpass spanned the entire gap, from the top of one hill to the top of the other, casting a huge shadow over the road below and both walkways, which passed under this overpass as well. Trafic was heavy on the road below, and as I stood on one of the walkways, I saw my reprobate sister Reagan and some friends of hers walking on the far side of the road. She spotted me and pointed and laughed; she knew I'd want to confront her regarding her recent (real-life) theivery against our father, but that I'd never be able to get to the far side of the road before she'd made her escape. Fortunately, she was wrong.

I flew accross the road, from one walk-way to the other, and touched down directly in front of her. Oddly, she looked just like she did when last I'd lived with her, as a teenager, and this seemed sort of wrong to me. Nevertheless, I demaded she come up with whatever cash she'd obtained from selling our father's stolen goods. She refused, sneering at me. I pressed the issue, and, to my surprise, she turned before my eyes into a small wooden clock. I pushed at it, tapping it and such, trying to figure out what to make of it, and then turned to one of her friends and asked if this was something that Reagan did often; if this was a trick of hers or something. The friend in question, seeming drunk and/or stoned was unable to formulate an answer, and then collapsed, and began to slide down the hill towards the road.

I can't really recall anything else from this dream clearly, before I woke up.