11-01-2011, 12:00 AM
The first section I remember was me simply taking my mom to an appointment. It was a busy street on a sunny day, near some newish strip malls. there were flowers and palm trees in the center divider of the road and it was well landscaped. Traffic slowed to a near halt backed up on multiple lights and cross traffic. the roads were jam packed for some reason and not moving fast. It was very quiet no road noises or honking horns. Finally we ground to a halt and i passed the time glancing at the flowers and the trees in the center divider, and looking up at the clear blue mid afternoon sky. At some point my mom said this is close enough, and exited the car. she walked around the front and into the center divider garden strip, before I thought to stop her. Cars weren’t moving and she was headed towards an office type building. After she left I got a bit worried about the distance her walking in the heat, and willed the traffic to speed up, and prepared to make a u turn to intersect where she got out and find her. But a voice or presence implied that it was futile in the dream context, that was a quick way to wake back up more or less. I also got the impression i should keep driving until i got where I might want to go. So i did...at the point i would have made a u-turn, there was an entrance to another strip mall type area. In the corner by the street there was some sort of restaurant like outback or chills, and i knew that’s where i needed to go...for a review of some test results with the group, outside the school environment. casual like. So i parked and went into the building and joined the others who were already seated at two large tables, having sodas and talking about the classes as they waited for the food that was coming. It was ordered for them. hehe.
After a bit and a few sips of watery soda, the "teacher" pulled test result and analysis out of a leather Euro style briefcase/bag. The first test she took out was for a girl at another table, she had scored brilliantly well, and it was announced due tot he results she also got some gift cards for free meals. I looked at her she was a Latin (Mexico/Central American) immigrant or native American….indigenous people lineage. She was real curvy and beautiful the flush of maidenhood or whatever stage of the three phase modality (maiden mother crone) sort of way it seems is the norm in less eating at chilies places, or stated in a less ugly fashion, more in tune with natures rhythms. Fertile? lol. That wasn’t my primary focus, i was listening to the accent and feeling the energy as well, it was just one part of it and an instant impression. she seemed nice and "innocent" not sharp edged...not cynical. Then the professor, who was an older Harvard faculty ivory tower type, but not mean exactly, handed out the results to a few other people who did well. Then she turned to the rest of us, i was bored as well and curious as to how well i did or did not do. To the rest she said "and the rest of your barely got a phrase or two, a few lines right" Not that they failed, that was the analysis. And she stared at me and came to stand next to me. She asked me why i did not ever learn to speak Spanish, given it was the language on the accent in my time and space. So i honestly answered why should i? I speak the tongue i was born speaking. Many of my family do but i do not. If i needed to learn it to speak to family that lived with me i would, out of respect and to make their lives easier, but i do not need to do so, and as such, i have a hard enough time processing via English. It is my opinion that learning another tongue to think in at this point would only muddle me, and burn scant energy that I am needing to comprehend through an English centric mind. Some of the thing is said very well could have sounded been ugly, racist or nativist, so i had to fully explain my inclination honestly in that way. The teacher neither said good or bad, and simply accepted the answer with an expression that denoted being deep in thought, analysis things via that context i guess. I lost cohesion or recall. I maintained enough to observe that it was because i was no longer running on a level more or less equivalent with my waking self...all structure was dissolved out. my point of view was still similar to me here, and that point of view has no capacity to interpret what was being said or perceived...to it, me, it was one great white void full of energy and vague shapes. Trying to explain that as such, i transitioned into another more or less me view, but the world was different.
Gone was everything. I sat at the end of a small wooden platform. Across from me, on the other end was the same energy type as the girl from the test scene. I could not tell, and did not look to see, if she was clothed or nude. My impression as in-between, wrapped in moonlight Goss or vapor. Same feeling as the restaurant but more so. I knew lots of things from the void, or at once. This was now my "wife" although that was not exactly what it means. It was more a metaphor, of how the sun chases the moon, that felt right. all of this was without thought just known. neither of us spoke or paid “attention” to the other. I saw i was on a railroad handcart, the ones with the pump in the middle. One moment there was a kind of pump i was working, another moment when i was resting their was a big sailboat sail. and sometimes nothing at all, when i wasn’t paying attention. It was just after twilight early dark, and we were moving quickly across a straight railing, in the far distance somehow i could see the curves were not curves in the rails, but the curvature of the planet. It was completely silent, the ground that rushed by was sparsely vegetated. the soil was extra black, like the richest loam or volcanic soil. It was neither cold nor hot. I was focused on completing the trip, although there was no real feeling of an end or destination. An eternity and an instant passed like that.
Then up ahead, i could see where the rails had been bent, warped. A large castle like a cave formation and somehow even more black and volcanic looking had bent the rails, without breaking them, around its base as it had rose. Alternatively, it was a biker bar and the rails were a dusty desert road that made a half loop around the shabby gang base. So there were both unexplainable things near it, and when i looked again, choppers and Harleys. I knew we were in some trouble. It was waiting for us, or rather her, to pass. I don’t know what happened. I felt the malice rising, like a shadow hawk from the very ground. I also saw bikers getting on the bikes al la “mad max” and hollering moving towards us. I don’t know what happened next, i had no capacity to record or perceive, or I don’t retain it outside of that context, as the hand cart, on a fixed track , went right into he open mouth of doom. Its like with the mind of the teacher, or other dreams, where i have no point of reference anymore, not one a human mind, my simulated mind, that i carry with me here can perceive. Almost instantly, but not, after things I cant explain, i found myself clinging to the side of a steep foothill, like i had been blown through the air and left there. thousands of feet up on the side of a dry mountain. I vaguely could see the line of the tracks, or rim of the world, beyond, and the fortress of black or base swirling and twirling like a cloud of thick dark smoke. It was even later now, but i wasn’t sure it was the same evening, or if the sun ever rose in that place.
I had no panic, or worry even for the being not here that was with me on the handcart. Or anger, or pain. I looked around at my impossible situation, no way to move up or down, and instinctively began burrowing, not into the stone and dirt, but into the underlying stone and dirt, the framework of the things. And there, no effort at all it was. Like those chairs that are whickered with he thick tough cardboard material, like those, not metal or plastic, like wood pressed, or paper, right under the surface, if one knew how to look. And seeing everything and everybody, on that sort of woven frame that underpinned the stone and rock and sky. i noticed it but a moment, and went through it, or into it, the strands were also like connectors between mother boards on a pc, or veins, or long bits of old time punch card computer programs. and also like none of those, but that shows this “me” how to see it and frame it. I don’t remember how i burrowed past it, or if i did, or if i melted and streamed along it, but i did something. Because again i was in another place. Although place isn’t the right word for it. It was, to use and impression, the other side of a computer screen. where the circuits meet to form pictures. but also, it was the spiritual reality equivalent. It was flat somehow. And there, still and silent because he wasn’t being spoken too, was the "king" or "god" or "spirit of the earth". The general, the ruler. But that’s not what those things really are. It was, he was, part of the overall system. Not a construct, but also not alive...no, not self willed. But not unwilled. Not without spirit, but not a spirit like a person exactly. Still, behind the screen, because nobody was seeking him. I quickly slid his default face out of the picture and inserted my own. when i did so, the scene stopped being like a paper cut out and a 3 dimensional presence, mass formed. i removed a part of myself and placed them in the image, I took allot of time to get it right, so I didn’t overwrite any of what was there, and could leave it quickly…pull out without leaving any bits of myself behind. Having done that, in that space like and not like a piece of paper or flat mirror, I initiated contact. With the priests, or generals, or kings, all of those like unlike the bar/castle at once. They looked confused when they came to look into the screen, because of course they aren’t summoned, they summon the god or king when they need something, and it obliges within the confines of its nature. which is that entire world, that it guards and maintains. I quickly spoke of the moon queen/godess now, and the villains. Looking to simply remove their focus from existence, or move him away. those things were very complex, wads of authorizations, calibration to find a being etc. which is how its usually done, with no urgency. I rubbed my flat not flat paper image on a screen face and said no. Just destroy him. Force, force in context, no time for doing it the right way. And they were the generals priests surprised but compliant, they didn’t do things that way either. quickly from side rooms I could see through the screen, out came rockets, cruise missiles, and at the same time spiritual and symbolic equivalents, which were and were not dangerous or weapons just depended on what one choose or could perceive. Good enough I said, good enough. and then I bolted with the speed I had prepared for out of that paper god space, king space, layer of the mesh underlying the world, and went directly too the villains lair. I knew some thing about that god, there was no permanent resident? As needed beings went into, those that could, into that form, that layer, and borrowed the authority. the rest of the time the authority, without will, maintained things, listened to prayers, responded to other dully authorized beings, but no being held that chair, throne, the throne being an idea simply was without control. Not empty but not willed.
So I, as me, was back inside the villains lair/biker bar. I saw the villains had laid out score of rockets, bombs, improvised. They had wicks like firecrackers, not self launched motors. like what hamas shoots into Israel. the same as the ones I had ordered out, at their root and intent. rockets, explosives, but fashioned from the bits in the world around, not manufactured with artistry. more jury rigged. less potent. But still deadly, more then was meant to exist in the hands of self willed beings. like taking gods power and copying it, in a small way, crudely. And somehow profane. And finally I saw the one who had taken the moon maiden somehow. He was tall, and in spiky armor in the biker phase. Criminal/outlaw/Dark Renegade I could label. I couldn’t see the other, couldn’t shift it. I new it, I felt it, but human mind. Or even one close enough for government work, could not perceive it, so he stayed fixed, all of them, the bikers folk, now were fixed so I could understand what they were doing. I followed were they were looking, and a tall white spire, like a melted ivory tusk growing from the ground or stalagmite with a thick base rose up like a dirty bone, ribcage, from the ground some way aways. I saw the full moon, almost at midnight position. and there, so far yet clear, was the moon maiden. still couldn’t tell if clothed or not. but bound. arms and legs, around the middle, lashed and barely moving, to the top of the white finger/bone/spire structure. In a posture that hinted at the crucifixion. and now the leader spoke. “She has suffered long enough, it is time.” and one of the underlings took a candle holder like from a church mass, to light the candles, (weapon wicks) and began lighting the bunches of fuses. All the bombs, rockets, were aimed at the moon maiden. the villain continued to speak. "Soon they will know that I am the one that was meant to be, THEY are the accidents, I AM, and WAS the one that was supposed to be. Will be. I AM. There is no GOD. (which ironically, in a way, was true there, given my previous actions/discovery but also not true. So the wicks were lit. and the being gleamed with luminous malice in triumph. None of them could see me as usual, I don’t think they did before on the handcart either. They thought the moon maiden traveled alone. A bit about of her that I perceived. The figure in every Fairy tail, where the warrior lusts and kills his brother to posses the fairest maiden, who is fair because she does nothing to bring it on, is simply desired as the most pure or special that was like her. The idea of fertility and gentle grace, the most positive identification of womanhood, she was of that too. Innocence and maidenhood, and motherhood, all those cheesy ass things, were embodied in that being. I had a non specific glimpse in the ways that one would whish to ravish her, because he could not have her, but abuse and degrade for the mastery, and now he was going to kill her. Typical psycho villain stuff. anger and lust and pride and desire and cruelty and control. As the wicks began to burn the henchperson who lit the wicks stepped back. the villain extended on a pedestal over the weapons to savor their launch and see the maiden obliterated. This was both rising in the air above and standing on a cherry picker in the context of the bar. On cue, and at the moment before he would have his victory the weapons I had brought out struck. they struck directly, honed in on, the crude versions of themselves the villain had. It was instant and a struggle of legend and duration.
Explosion after explosion, all the force ripping up to consume the anti god. the willful not god. as opposed to the simply existing real one. He was annihilated in an instant. But for all of that, the force stayed contained. so the villains in the same room were simply stunned. im not sure they could see what had just happened. one moment all the power was gone, and the one they followed. Just stunned.
After a few moments, they sagged in defeat and even relief, and began filling out of the now dead fortress/bar. some reluctantly, some like people waking from a bad dream and finding it was morning. I observed each in turn. how and why, the anger, the lust and desire and feeling small that led them to come this far. Those were the men. but the women...it was not something I had seen really before. Each one of them, they wanted to be the moon goddess. in a way. wanted to be loved, desired. the moon goddess didn’t see that, or provoke that, but they wanted men fighting for them, they wanted to be wanted. Like those villains wanted to posses. so they had them, degraded and lusted in and on them, because they (the men ((fallen) )wished to own and control) wanted the ideal goddess. and the women let them, enjoyed it, the fights and violence, because it made them special, as they imagined that moon maiden must be. as they perceived her being, from their unhappy and desire to be sought after. To be, the I am thing. lots of way more complicated things but that’s enough to explain. As I did in the restaurant, I glanced at them all as they left. unlike that person and latter moon maiden, a few felt and responded to the being looked at. I’m sure they would have smiled if they weren’t all dressed in bad biker bondage weirdo gear, or alternatively cloaked in thick shadows and rotting flesh. They wanted me to notice, to think, to desire. not like temptresses, because they wanted to be validated by being seen, which was like the rest of them, the villains, it was a different way, It had gone to far from normal and universal to an extreme that led to that place, distorting the flow of the world. I simply watched, and looked on, and they too moved faster and left. The last part was me in the empty fortress thinking. about the king god, about my stepping in for awhile to do this. about what the villain said (who sounded like Michael Dorn...worf from Star trek lol) about what and who they were and why not thinking it was all at once. The one thing I didn’t do was look back at the maiden I had "saved" nor did I wonder how to get her down. and that to was as it should be. (Edit: the task of saving her from her captivity was a hero to comes job. Part of the story, not my part, this was my part…that is/was An adventure for another) She saw me no more then I saw her. immune. cancel out. in speaking. that archetype is the spark for so many wrongs by the wrong, without being anything but what she is neither provoking nor noticing it. And also the inspiration for art and beauty, and gentle acceptance of times seasons. I wondered what opposite cancelling out immune not noticing counterpart to that I was to be called part of a pair, married, bound, but not much. I couldn’t see it. Because both of us. that maiden. me, and the very god, was not entirely self aware. aware, but not...part of things? im still a bit befuddled by it. that was it then I woke and drank some coffee. lol the end.
After a bit and a few sips of watery soda, the "teacher" pulled test result and analysis out of a leather Euro style briefcase/bag. The first test she took out was for a girl at another table, she had scored brilliantly well, and it was announced due tot he results she also got some gift cards for free meals. I looked at her she was a Latin (Mexico/Central American) immigrant or native American….indigenous people lineage. She was real curvy and beautiful the flush of maidenhood or whatever stage of the three phase modality (maiden mother crone) sort of way it seems is the norm in less eating at chilies places, or stated in a less ugly fashion, more in tune with natures rhythms. Fertile? lol. That wasn’t my primary focus, i was listening to the accent and feeling the energy as well, it was just one part of it and an instant impression. she seemed nice and "innocent" not sharp edged...not cynical. Then the professor, who was an older Harvard faculty ivory tower type, but not mean exactly, handed out the results to a few other people who did well. Then she turned to the rest of us, i was bored as well and curious as to how well i did or did not do. To the rest she said "and the rest of your barely got a phrase or two, a few lines right" Not that they failed, that was the analysis. And she stared at me and came to stand next to me. She asked me why i did not ever learn to speak Spanish, given it was the language on the accent in my time and space. So i honestly answered why should i? I speak the tongue i was born speaking. Many of my family do but i do not. If i needed to learn it to speak to family that lived with me i would, out of respect and to make their lives easier, but i do not need to do so, and as such, i have a hard enough time processing via English. It is my opinion that learning another tongue to think in at this point would only muddle me, and burn scant energy that I am needing to comprehend through an English centric mind. Some of the thing is said very well could have sounded been ugly, racist or nativist, so i had to fully explain my inclination honestly in that way. The teacher neither said good or bad, and simply accepted the answer with an expression that denoted being deep in thought, analysis things via that context i guess. I lost cohesion or recall. I maintained enough to observe that it was because i was no longer running on a level more or less equivalent with my waking self...all structure was dissolved out. my point of view was still similar to me here, and that point of view has no capacity to interpret what was being said or perceived...to it, me, it was one great white void full of energy and vague shapes. Trying to explain that as such, i transitioned into another more or less me view, but the world was different.
Gone was everything. I sat at the end of a small wooden platform. Across from me, on the other end was the same energy type as the girl from the test scene. I could not tell, and did not look to see, if she was clothed or nude. My impression as in-between, wrapped in moonlight Goss or vapor. Same feeling as the restaurant but more so. I knew lots of things from the void, or at once. This was now my "wife" although that was not exactly what it means. It was more a metaphor, of how the sun chases the moon, that felt right. all of this was without thought just known. neither of us spoke or paid “attention” to the other. I saw i was on a railroad handcart, the ones with the pump in the middle. One moment there was a kind of pump i was working, another moment when i was resting their was a big sailboat sail. and sometimes nothing at all, when i wasn’t paying attention. It was just after twilight early dark, and we were moving quickly across a straight railing, in the far distance somehow i could see the curves were not curves in the rails, but the curvature of the planet. It was completely silent, the ground that rushed by was sparsely vegetated. the soil was extra black, like the richest loam or volcanic soil. It was neither cold nor hot. I was focused on completing the trip, although there was no real feeling of an end or destination. An eternity and an instant passed like that.
Then up ahead, i could see where the rails had been bent, warped. A large castle like a cave formation and somehow even more black and volcanic looking had bent the rails, without breaking them, around its base as it had rose. Alternatively, it was a biker bar and the rails were a dusty desert road that made a half loop around the shabby gang base. So there were both unexplainable things near it, and when i looked again, choppers and Harleys. I knew we were in some trouble. It was waiting for us, or rather her, to pass. I don’t know what happened. I felt the malice rising, like a shadow hawk from the very ground. I also saw bikers getting on the bikes al la “mad max” and hollering moving towards us. I don’t know what happened next, i had no capacity to record or perceive, or I don’t retain it outside of that context, as the hand cart, on a fixed track , went right into he open mouth of doom. Its like with the mind of the teacher, or other dreams, where i have no point of reference anymore, not one a human mind, my simulated mind, that i carry with me here can perceive. Almost instantly, but not, after things I cant explain, i found myself clinging to the side of a steep foothill, like i had been blown through the air and left there. thousands of feet up on the side of a dry mountain. I vaguely could see the line of the tracks, or rim of the world, beyond, and the fortress of black or base swirling and twirling like a cloud of thick dark smoke. It was even later now, but i wasn’t sure it was the same evening, or if the sun ever rose in that place.
I had no panic, or worry even for the being not here that was with me on the handcart. Or anger, or pain. I looked around at my impossible situation, no way to move up or down, and instinctively began burrowing, not into the stone and dirt, but into the underlying stone and dirt, the framework of the things. And there, no effort at all it was. Like those chairs that are whickered with he thick tough cardboard material, like those, not metal or plastic, like wood pressed, or paper, right under the surface, if one knew how to look. And seeing everything and everybody, on that sort of woven frame that underpinned the stone and rock and sky. i noticed it but a moment, and went through it, or into it, the strands were also like connectors between mother boards on a pc, or veins, or long bits of old time punch card computer programs. and also like none of those, but that shows this “me” how to see it and frame it. I don’t remember how i burrowed past it, or if i did, or if i melted and streamed along it, but i did something. Because again i was in another place. Although place isn’t the right word for it. It was, to use and impression, the other side of a computer screen. where the circuits meet to form pictures. but also, it was the spiritual reality equivalent. It was flat somehow. And there, still and silent because he wasn’t being spoken too, was the "king" or "god" or "spirit of the earth". The general, the ruler. But that’s not what those things really are. It was, he was, part of the overall system. Not a construct, but also not alive...no, not self willed. But not unwilled. Not without spirit, but not a spirit like a person exactly. Still, behind the screen, because nobody was seeking him. I quickly slid his default face out of the picture and inserted my own. when i did so, the scene stopped being like a paper cut out and a 3 dimensional presence, mass formed. i removed a part of myself and placed them in the image, I took allot of time to get it right, so I didn’t overwrite any of what was there, and could leave it quickly…pull out without leaving any bits of myself behind. Having done that, in that space like and not like a piece of paper or flat mirror, I initiated contact. With the priests, or generals, or kings, all of those like unlike the bar/castle at once. They looked confused when they came to look into the screen, because of course they aren’t summoned, they summon the god or king when they need something, and it obliges within the confines of its nature. which is that entire world, that it guards and maintains. I quickly spoke of the moon queen/godess now, and the villains. Looking to simply remove their focus from existence, or move him away. those things were very complex, wads of authorizations, calibration to find a being etc. which is how its usually done, with no urgency. I rubbed my flat not flat paper image on a screen face and said no. Just destroy him. Force, force in context, no time for doing it the right way. And they were the generals priests surprised but compliant, they didn’t do things that way either. quickly from side rooms I could see through the screen, out came rockets, cruise missiles, and at the same time spiritual and symbolic equivalents, which were and were not dangerous or weapons just depended on what one choose or could perceive. Good enough I said, good enough. and then I bolted with the speed I had prepared for out of that paper god space, king space, layer of the mesh underlying the world, and went directly too the villains lair. I knew some thing about that god, there was no permanent resident? As needed beings went into, those that could, into that form, that layer, and borrowed the authority. the rest of the time the authority, without will, maintained things, listened to prayers, responded to other dully authorized beings, but no being held that chair, throne, the throne being an idea simply was without control. Not empty but not willed.
So I, as me, was back inside the villains lair/biker bar. I saw the villains had laid out score of rockets, bombs, improvised. They had wicks like firecrackers, not self launched motors. like what hamas shoots into Israel. the same as the ones I had ordered out, at their root and intent. rockets, explosives, but fashioned from the bits in the world around, not manufactured with artistry. more jury rigged. less potent. But still deadly, more then was meant to exist in the hands of self willed beings. like taking gods power and copying it, in a small way, crudely. And somehow profane. And finally I saw the one who had taken the moon maiden somehow. He was tall, and in spiky armor in the biker phase. Criminal/outlaw/Dark Renegade I could label. I couldn’t see the other, couldn’t shift it. I new it, I felt it, but human mind. Or even one close enough for government work, could not perceive it, so he stayed fixed, all of them, the bikers folk, now were fixed so I could understand what they were doing. I followed were they were looking, and a tall white spire, like a melted ivory tusk growing from the ground or stalagmite with a thick base rose up like a dirty bone, ribcage, from the ground some way aways. I saw the full moon, almost at midnight position. and there, so far yet clear, was the moon maiden. still couldn’t tell if clothed or not. but bound. arms and legs, around the middle, lashed and barely moving, to the top of the white finger/bone/spire structure. In a posture that hinted at the crucifixion. and now the leader spoke. “She has suffered long enough, it is time.” and one of the underlings took a candle holder like from a church mass, to light the candles, (weapon wicks) and began lighting the bunches of fuses. All the bombs, rockets, were aimed at the moon maiden. the villain continued to speak. "Soon they will know that I am the one that was meant to be, THEY are the accidents, I AM, and WAS the one that was supposed to be. Will be. I AM. There is no GOD. (which ironically, in a way, was true there, given my previous actions/discovery but also not true. So the wicks were lit. and the being gleamed with luminous malice in triumph. None of them could see me as usual, I don’t think they did before on the handcart either. They thought the moon maiden traveled alone. A bit about of her that I perceived. The figure in every Fairy tail, where the warrior lusts and kills his brother to posses the fairest maiden, who is fair because she does nothing to bring it on, is simply desired as the most pure or special that was like her. The idea of fertility and gentle grace, the most positive identification of womanhood, she was of that too. Innocence and maidenhood, and motherhood, all those cheesy ass things, were embodied in that being. I had a non specific glimpse in the ways that one would whish to ravish her, because he could not have her, but abuse and degrade for the mastery, and now he was going to kill her. Typical psycho villain stuff. anger and lust and pride and desire and cruelty and control. As the wicks began to burn the henchperson who lit the wicks stepped back. the villain extended on a pedestal over the weapons to savor their launch and see the maiden obliterated. This was both rising in the air above and standing on a cherry picker in the context of the bar. On cue, and at the moment before he would have his victory the weapons I had brought out struck. they struck directly, honed in on, the crude versions of themselves the villain had. It was instant and a struggle of legend and duration.
Explosion after explosion, all the force ripping up to consume the anti god. the willful not god. as opposed to the simply existing real one. He was annihilated in an instant. But for all of that, the force stayed contained. so the villains in the same room were simply stunned. im not sure they could see what had just happened. one moment all the power was gone, and the one they followed. Just stunned.
After a few moments, they sagged in defeat and even relief, and began filling out of the now dead fortress/bar. some reluctantly, some like people waking from a bad dream and finding it was morning. I observed each in turn. how and why, the anger, the lust and desire and feeling small that led them to come this far. Those were the men. but the women...it was not something I had seen really before. Each one of them, they wanted to be the moon goddess. in a way. wanted to be loved, desired. the moon goddess didn’t see that, or provoke that, but they wanted men fighting for them, they wanted to be wanted. Like those villains wanted to posses. so they had them, degraded and lusted in and on them, because they (the men ((fallen) )wished to own and control) wanted the ideal goddess. and the women let them, enjoyed it, the fights and violence, because it made them special, as they imagined that moon maiden must be. as they perceived her being, from their unhappy and desire to be sought after. To be, the I am thing. lots of way more complicated things but that’s enough to explain. As I did in the restaurant, I glanced at them all as they left. unlike that person and latter moon maiden, a few felt and responded to the being looked at. I’m sure they would have smiled if they weren’t all dressed in bad biker bondage weirdo gear, or alternatively cloaked in thick shadows and rotting flesh. They wanted me to notice, to think, to desire. not like temptresses, because they wanted to be validated by being seen, which was like the rest of them, the villains, it was a different way, It had gone to far from normal and universal to an extreme that led to that place, distorting the flow of the world. I simply watched, and looked on, and they too moved faster and left. The last part was me in the empty fortress thinking. about the king god, about my stepping in for awhile to do this. about what the villain said (who sounded like Michael Dorn...worf from Star trek lol) about what and who they were and why not thinking it was all at once. The one thing I didn’t do was look back at the maiden I had "saved" nor did I wonder how to get her down. and that to was as it should be. (Edit: the task of saving her from her captivity was a hero to comes job. Part of the story, not my part, this was my part…that is/was An adventure for another) She saw me no more then I saw her. immune. cancel out. in speaking. that archetype is the spark for so many wrongs by the wrong, without being anything but what she is neither provoking nor noticing it. And also the inspiration for art and beauty, and gentle acceptance of times seasons. I wondered what opposite cancelling out immune not noticing counterpart to that I was to be called part of a pair, married, bound, but not much. I couldn’t see it. Because both of us. that maiden. me, and the very god, was not entirely self aware. aware, but not...part of things? im still a bit befuddled by it. that was it then I woke and drank some coffee. lol the end.