The City of Dreams -- Part 9

[I've started posting in sections of about 2,000 words, or eight pages of book, or one hour of writing time--you can pick whichever unit of measurement works best for you.  It seems to be a decent size for reading online, and it's a good amount for me from a writing perspective, so there you have it.

[You may have noticed some differences in Not from Section 1 to Sections 8 and 9.  The reason for that is, the nature of Not changed as I wrote the first sections.  At first I thought that he was connected to the villain.  The villain who was eating up dreams, sucking them into nothingness.  You know, the villain that, from early in the story, we all knew Perry would have to face and defeat.

[Okay, so you haven't seen that villain, and that's because he (or she) disappeared.  Not became something else, the villain was removed from the narrative entirely, and the story became a completely different kind of story.  It became a book where 'nothing' happens, and I think it's better for it.

[Which brings us back to Not.  He's become more childlike.  Knowledgeable about some things, completely innocent about others.  It's how he should be, and he'll likely change more as the story goes on, but that's also how it should be.  Dreams are never complete.  At least not in the City.]



"This may not be the time or place," said Not, "but I was wondering why you're not with that girl from last night."
"Why would I be?"  I put my hands in my pockets--trying to look extra casual--and started walking away from both the street lights and the place where the church had been moments before.
"Because she's cute.  And nice.  I just assumed you'd be together."
The redly-glowing heads of the lights were following my movements.  The lights were all the exact same size, the exact same color of red, and they moved in almost perfect unison.  I was tempted to wave my arm off to one side, just to see if they'd all turn that way, like a little dance.  I resisted the temptation.
"I wouldn't even know where to find her," I said, walking sideways in a casual manner so as to keep an eye on the metal posts.  "I've only been here three times now, you may remember, and I have no clue how to find anything.  I don't even know why I show up where I do."
"Do you want my theory?" asked Not.
"I do," I said.  "Not."
"That was very well done!" he said, sounding genuinely pleased.
"Thank you," I said.  "And really, I'd like to hear your theory.  It seems like everyone has theories about the City."
"Not everyone," said the dream.  "You just attract people like that.  Or you're attracted to them, or both.  At least, that's my theory."
"And that decides where I show up?"
"Sure," said Not.  "Dreams are a malleable thing.  In fact, from what I understand, if you're in the right place between asleep and awake so that you realize you're dreaming, you can even change your dreams--the other kind of dreams, the kind that aren't in the City."
"Doesn't it work in the City as well?"
"I suppose you could try it," said the dream.  "Maybe you could get rid of the street lights."
"That's worth a try," I said.
"Go ahead," said Not.
"I did."
"They're still there."
"So I think we've established that doing that doesn't work in the City."
"And now they're following you," said Not.
"Maybe they're following you," I said.  "Did you ever think about that?"
"I did," he said.  "Not."
"May I hit you?" I asked.
"You may."
"Can I hit you?"
"I doubt it.  Also, they're only following you slowly, so there doesn't seem to be much reason for concern.  As long as nothing startles them or you, I bet you'll be fine.  Just turn a corner and get out of their line of sight and we'll head someplace where the dreams are nicer."
"Do you always tag along with me?" I asked Not.
"When I can.  You're nice to be around."
"Thank you," I said.  "Funny thing is, I actually believe you.  When I'm asleep, I feel nice to be around."
"Do you not feel that way when you're awake?"
"Not particularly."
That was when a garbage can barked at me.
It was a curious sensation for two reasons.  First, I'd always had a suspicion, even when I was awake, that garbage cans were just waiting, biding their time while we stuffed bags and bags of refuse into their mouths.  I knew it couldn't be pleasant, and one day the garbage cans and dumpsters of the world would snap and vent their rage on mankind as a whole.  Maybe, if you were lucky, you'd be around recycling bins when it happened and you'd get away with a minor beating and a stern warning, but the rest of us who were by an honest-to-goodness garbage can when it happened could expect broken bones and severe scorn.
Because of that little secret dream of mine, having a garbage can barking at me sent my adrenaline level through the roof.  Which made me jump.  Which brought me to the second reason why the sensation of a barking refuse bin was curious.  When I jumped, the street lights noticed.  I know that, because the instant after I jumped away from the garbage can, I whipped around to look at the street lights.  If I'd had more time to reflect, I might have decided that any whipping of any kind was a bad idea when dealing with tall, highly aggressive metal creatures, plowing a wide furrow through the street behind me--I might have decided that if I had had any amount of time for thinking.  Instead I was reacting, and reacting meant I was moving quickly.
The street lights must have interpreted rapid movement as fear.
"Run," said Not.
"I'm two steps ahead of you," I replied, already at a full sprint.
"Actually, you're more like a step-and-a-half ahead," said the dream, "and that's because I'm being courteous.  I know young men like to feel good about their physical abilities, and so I didn't want you to think that I was faster than you."
I was too busy trying to stay on my feet as I turned a corner to answer.  A barking garbage can had been frightening, but there was something about the rumble of a swath of crumbling blacktop and cement that was quite a bit worse.
"How do I lose them?" I said, still able to breathe decently, though I knew that wouldn't last.
"I have no idea," said Not.  "But I wanted to make a comment about the girl you were with last night before you wake up.  Do you mind?"
I'm pretty sure that my face sent a strong message as I glanced at Not.  If I'd put words to it, it would have said 'Are you kidding?!' but I was too busy running to get the words out.
"Turn right up here," said Not.  "There's a park not too far away."
I turned.  The streetlights kept swimming their way through the street behind me.  I could hear their rumble turn to follow.
"So, the girl, Brie," said Not.  "I think she likes you.  She may have seemed like a girl who is flirtatious with everyone, but I don't think so.  I think she likes you."
I was breathing far too hard to answer, so I didn't bother.  Instead, I crashed into the back of a parked car, pushed myself off with my hands, and kept running.  The car honked at me and kept honking--until a half-dozen or so street light heads started smashing into its roof and hood.  I knew they were doing that because I looked back when the loud banging started.  The car didn't keep honking for very long after that.
Also, unfortunately for me, it didn't provide much of a distraction for the street lights.  I kept running.
"How far?" I gasped out.  I'd never had a pain in my side during a dream before, but I had one then.
"Two blocks or so," said Not.  "Then the trees ought to give you some breathing room.  Street lights and trees don't get along too well."
I stored that bit of information away as something good to know and felt a bit of hope, since I could make out a halo of light ahead that I assumed was what a park filled with glowing trees would look like.
Unfortunately, at least for that bit of hope, part of that glow turned out to be red light from the heads of another small herd of street lights.  They looked up at me as I slid to a halt.
"Bad," I gasped.
"It does look pretty bad," said Not.  "Maybe this apartment building is open."
I turned toward the door, but the apartment building glared at me and snapped a metal grate down over its entryway.
"I guess that's not an option," said Not.
I looked back toward the stampede of street lights that had been following me for blocks only to discover that they were no longer stampeding.  In fact, they had slowed down, stopped, and were making angry electric buzzing noises as they looked past me.  I turned back to the new cluster of street lights and found that they were doing the same posturing dance, heads bobbing, lights buzzing.
"That's interesting," said Not.  "I didn't know that street lights were territorial."
I would have found it much more interesting if they hadn't been facing off over me, two groups of angry steel, posturing, with me in the middle.  I could imagine them, like mountain sheep in those nature movies, charging together and bashing heads.  The nature movies had never shown anything getting in the way of those charges, but I didn't think anything that did would come out of it too well.
"What happens?" I wheezed, hands on my knees.
"What happens when?" asked Not.
"Get hurt," I gasped.
"What happens if you get hurt in the City?  That is an excellent question," said Not.  "Unfortunately, I've never been awake, so I can't tell you.  My experience is limited to the dreaming world.  I do know quite a lot about the City, not so much about the other real world."  Then, apparently feeling bad that he couldn't answer my question, Not added a 'sorry' on the end.  I appreciated the thought.
Two of the streetlights, one from each group, had moved slightly ahead of their respective herds.  Each was buzzing loudly, and the heads of their companions were bobbing in unison, gradually getting faster and louder.
"I think they're about to charge," said Not.
I looked around, desperate for any kind of cover.  All the buildings around me were closed up tight and huddled into themselves.  No cars, not even a barking garbage can.  I was alone, in the open, between two aggressive herds off angry city lighting.
"So do you think you'll ask Brie out?" asked Not.  "I do think she likes you."
The street lights charged.
The street where we were was a broad enough place that you wouldn't think I'd have any trouble staying out of the way.  I'd just have to notice which way they were charging, pick another part of the road that was well out of the way, and watch while the sparks flew.  The problem was, when they charged, they did it in a weird, weaving rush that left skewed trails in the street behind them.  First I dodged left, then back right, then left again.  Finally, convinced that no direction was going to be good for me, I ran for the wall of the nearest building and slid into the corner where sidewalk met brick and huddled there.
The two alpha-street lights crashed into each other, and there really were sparks.  They rained down in a shower around me, yellow and brilliant, even in the vivid silver light of the moon.  The buzz from the lights was loud over me, drilling into my skull with a pain sharper than a headache.  I covered my ears as the lights reared back and smashed into each other again and again and again, a fireworks show that was far too close for my comfort.
"On the plus side," said Not, "they’ve forgotten about you."
That, at least, seemed to be true.  The street lights pulled back from each other, a brief pause as the herds kept up their bobbing, buzzing dance.  Then they rushed together again, and I decided it was then or never.  Staying as small as I could, I crawled on my hands and knees toward the possible refuge of the park, hoping I could slip past the second herd of street lights while they were busy egging on their leader.  My hands and knees scraped on the sidewalk as I scuttled along, but I couldn't convince my body to go slowly or carefully.  Speed was the only thing my body understood, and my mind didn't have many complaints about it.
"Looks like you'll make it," said Not.  "These street lights really are fascinating.  And frightening, I think.  I have to wonder if we're related.  We're both creatures that grow out of dreams, you know.  That isn't to say that we're directly related, since I'm pretty sure that I come from one person's dreams, and these street lights are more a product of collective dream consciousness, but even so, we're all dreams.  Cousin-dreams, maybe.  Something to think about."
I didn't think about it.  I just scampered, craning my neck to look up at the bobbing lights dominating the center of the road as I willed myself as small as I could go against the street's edge.  I had never realized before how really tall--and intimidating--a street light could be.  I'd always been glad for their light before.  I wasn't sure how I'd handle it next time I had to go walking at night.  Bring a flashlight and stay away from the street, probably.
I made it far enough past the herd that I risked climbing cautiously to my feet, tried to walk quietly away, and ended up running, glancing back over my shoulder.  None of the lights seemed to see me, but it still felt like an hour before I was gasping on the ground, lying hidden in a faintly glowing bush, somewhere in the middle of the park.