Wow. I must've been in really bad shape back then. Those painkillers must've really messed me up. Just how much of that medicine was I taking? It's scary reading this.

Freewrite

I have just finished writing down a dream I had. My mind is contorted into shapes that shouldn’t be allowed. Perhaps the painkillers I’ve been taking since the surgery that removed my wisdom teeth are having effects on me. Some undesirable feelings tremble inside me. An unmistakable anxiety. If I were to listen to music, I would lose all grasp of reality.

Unquenchable terror within the threads of dismay. Burning coal in my eye sockets lay. The fire and brimstone alive in my sight. And I fill the pitchers of horror and every delight.

What shall I write today? I have considered what is worth my time. Yet all of it seems utterly afoul of any good intention. I could transcribe dreams. Perhaps paste my poems to my website. I’ll start with that. I feel the cauldron of boiling water bubbling in my lungs. And my uneasiness gives way to my restless demeanor. I must pace upon the treadmill. I must stand. I must run. My afterimage chases me. The shadow of my guilt is near. Croak nailed to my torso. Never have I been so morose. I can hardly feel anything. Emotions have died within my throat. I can’t wake up to question my sorry state. I should continue in wondering what has happened to me, but I feel trapped and imprisoned to this my new fate.

Woodwalkers. Crow stalkers. Every single long-limbed monster. Centipedes crawling up my legs. I feel scared of what I have not seen. I sit in my chair, at my desk. I have not taken terrible medicines. I have refrained from those with powerful effects. And yet my head reels from the damage. I know if any were to read this, they would think I must be suffering an attack. Perhaps some overdose that rattles my head. But believe me when I say that this is not so. I have gone clean of prescriptions and drugs. Never more sober have I been in my life. So don’t fret about what nonsense I spout, I'm merely trying to write. A freewrite, and it will be scary. Do not fear me from what I have avoided. I could talk to another, and perhaps I should. Maybe my sister or brother would be in the mood. I could transcribe their story into this article. I could help them with stories, write more of them now.

I hear them even now in the other room. Talking emphatically of what they will never do. Speaking of dreams that they can’t remember. A fever dream piping hot from the stove and the kettle. I am not so tired as to lose your mind. But the train of thought I have left behind. I feel my life slipping down the drain. And my mind clings tight, so I hold the reins.

I saw on Youtube’s front home page the recommendations that I usually would enjoy to select, watch carefully or my favorite channels from which to see. And past videos that I feel I must catch, or missed livestreams that I haven’t seen yet. But I still wait for nothing as I, motionless, resign myself to sitting at my desk for all time.

Should I log in to my blog? It’s been a year now. I haven’t been back there, or read my poems aloud. I should return, but I fear what I would see is the poems that I wrote would all be waiting for me. Their eyes are wide-open. Their pupils dilated. Intense concentration. They’re shaking and nervous. Today we have a volleyball activity. That is, I am invited, if I wish to join. I feel sick. Every time I eat a bite. I feel sick. I can’t hold it down. My stomach feels to be bursting, perhaps that’s the anesthesia talking. The vapors in my veins to my heart knocks me out.

I fear what I write since it sounds so much worse than what I am feeling. I do not wish anyone to feel distress on my account. I am in control of myself, and my emotions are tied. The worst that could happen is that I’d… sit perfectly still. Do nothing at all. Waste all my time, until the night falls. Death is not a concern, for I would not put myself in danger. I would not take the car to drive, for that I am wiser. I’ll stay home if need be, I won’t go outside my house. For I cannot trust that my senses speak truth.

I can hardly toggle the feeling in my limbs. Whether I should give up or should I give in. But no temptation would fall to sin. I must stay strong in my lot, and victory to win. Prayers in my heart, the light shining through. And to the devout, they are not a few. The course I have set, I’ll ever renew. Obligations have wrought will eternity’s view.

What story should I write? This is no good freewrite. I have given no plot, nor character. No conflict drives, no setting to stay in. I could watch a video, but I’d be interrupted. I want to research Gemini Home Entertainment. But I am busy typing the words in my head. I cannot stop and check the browser. And Youtube’s algorithms have not brought it here.

What should I write that I have not already said? Why does every rhyme end in the word “dead.” I never wanted to be so negative. But my mind is wrapped tight with violent images. If any read this, they would think it a warning. That this were a sign of my mental wellbeing. And I must admit that I’d think the same thing if I were to read it myself from objective reality. But as of now my heart sits on top of my chest. Beating and bleeding, pouring out the contents. Pulsating, oozing. It spills onto my desk. And now I should clean up the puddle of this mess.

I am ever distressed with my concurrent meaning. My words have no value when I cannot read them. I never look back at what I have written. So swears and curses could be what I’ve left there. But I am not one to be vulgar and profane. I would never leave rudimentary remains. And the traces of my presence should purely contain the essence of my blessing and the old song of the well. Rhymes do not continue to dwell. In the lies where all will be quelled in fright of what my courage must melt. Melt like the elements in fervent heat. And if Hell brought fire then the furnace seeks, the vanquished and anguished and all in between. The terror in my eyes, where our gazes meet. Should I go back to the treadmill, grab another laptop? Get off the internet, take another stop. This morning my brother woke me with a song, as the music was playing, harmonics prolonged. The jester in my vision I did never repeat, for when in this circus what could I defeat. My memory in the rubbish, my calamity. And never should I trust computer search history. The time is now past. It’s after 4:50. The trademark of the press, what I, that I need. I feel my lungs drown, and my heart as it sinks. Down below my ribs to the belly of the beast.

Should I write of Occulturation? If I do, would it be a poem or a narrative? Would it be contemporary work in this continuity, or some thrown-out rough draft, never to repeat? My sigh in the wind, my skin is chilled. And by and by, I never will. But by your sides, the snowbanks filled. Frozen in ice, motionless, still.

If not Occulturation, then ECCC? What then should I write of inequality? Egocentrics and their soul complete? I am not alone, someone is here with me. In the darkness. In the vastness. My closet is empty. My lightswitch is off yet, I hear them breathe. The air on my neck, wet and cold, tingly. The blanket in my hands is ethereal and light. The lamp shines right through its ghostly transparent sight. My brother complains that I repeat myself oft. But I complain that I don’t speak enough. My shaking hands, my purple skin. Twinged with, let frostbite win. The snowy blizzard in the window sill, heats up my insides, numb so I don’t feel chill. Burning the diaphora, the heat of the kiln. The oven is baking, my womb is born still. Fruit of my labor, apothecary to wilt. Withering presence of atrophic silt.

At the bottom of the river lies the movies. The River Styx beckons past the River Lethe. No I cannot pronounce the names, I can thus hardly breathe. Frontal lobe page, and questions to grieve. Swear by the words of your temple and head. But swear not all, lest you break covenant. The holy place lingers and fills you with malice. Soft-spoken injury, choking on the chalice.

Right now I listen, I watch along to the sound. Complaints of the organization, I wonder what now. Dragon not in the voice, what could you be there for? What is here with me? What did you need? My eyes are barely touching my face. What should I do? Let’s see what sound burst in my visor. The lives in my head, the imagination’s choler.

So I guess I should begin writing. Something more akin to story telling. So what should I begin to write? Maybe I should begin to write what I would desire. So let us begin.

…

…

Heretic falls from the sky. There is something in the window. I watch. What do you think? But broken from the memory. There is a dangerous trial on the ground. Terrifying. What is this noise that assaults my ears? The silence that strikes me when I am with you. Descent Into Avernus is the adventure we will start. Should oceans of malice beneath krakens and squids. Hopeless desire from what I need to repute. Discuss the utter device of buying collect. What is not wanted from faces in my name. Who is the sycophant of gotcha what you see. The tentacles watching from above where you sit. What is here for the dragon fist claws on the minefield of belief.

No, that was despite my ancient carols. What you said when you mean. There are decisive victories in my mind. So let’s hope for a mind for what you see. There is nothing in my head for what I decided. I want to see what cannot be. An instant alertness is awake in my mind. I feel ever so alert with a sudden burst of energy. Hope is not decided here. Let’s begin. Let’s begin. Let’s begin.

…

…

The age of my time is awakening. Here we go. So how shall I begin? Let’s start with my hooves to strike. Dorn said he was gonna be a tortle for higher AC. Let’s begin what I need to start. Where should I begin? My mind is growing sharper. I hear a video in the background alerting me to my senses. It tells me to breathe. It tells me to be calm. That comforts are necessary. I feel the stress melt away. I feel the sadness in my brain. The torso, the lungs, the diaphragm, the ribcage. What can I say? A spider in the currency.

Here we go. Will I finally start? A freewrite? Let’s begin. Oh. I am just about to write, but my emotions well up inside me. Close your eyes. Let’s try it for the first time.

Greesha runs after the ghostlight. … No. I haven’t even read the latest Occulturation draft. So what do I intend to do? Maybe I can begin with something that has less obligation. Less preconceived notions. So let’s try again.

Abel sits on the bench in the city bus. His Shadow, Cabel, stands beneath him. His Reflection, Babel, still sits in the bathroom mirror back home. Shadows may be mobile, but a Reflection is stuck in their frame of reference. He can’t go anywhere. Abel would have to carry the mirror with him to help his friend explore the world. But that just isn’t reasonable. If he only had one Reflection, he would gladly carry him around. Unfortunately, most reflective surfaces produce a Figment. A Reflection. He can’t help them all. And he doesn’t want to play favorites. He always feels guilty every time he comes across a new Reflection of himself. He has inadvertently given birth to life, but he cannot sustain it. He cannot teach it, stay with it, help it to learn and understand the world it has been brought into. Instead, it lives with no context, alone and unable to communicate with anyone unless taught sign language.

So Abel sits on the bus. His Reflections in the windows stare about the bus, along with the Reflections of every other human passenger that has ever ridden the bus. Let me repeat. Every window filled to the brim with the Reflection of every passenger ever. It’s terrifying. Abel doesn’t look at them. He can’t live with the horrible reality. He doesn’t want to face it. So instead, he looks to Cabel, his Shadow. At least, everyone only ever has one Shadow. Unlike a Reflection, a Shadow is born at the same time a human is born. It is their inextricable twin. Or… it would be if it bothered to stick around. Difficulties in communicating with such beings often drives them off to explore on their own. What is fearful is that Shadows are amongst the Figments that don’t die. It might be possible for a Shadow to kill another Shadow, but he has never seen it happen, and he hasn’t heard of any credible sources citing such an incident. So for everyone who was ever born, there is a Shadow. To think, the entire world’s population, as Shadows. There must be a way for them to die or else the world be overrun by them, right? They don’t die of old age, he doesn’t think. His great-great grandfather’s Shadow still attends their family reunions even though that Shadow’s Reference is long dead over a hundred years ago.

Abel hates leaving Babel alone for so long. The guilt eating him up from the inside. The bus stops again. Abel stands up. This is his stop. His Shadow, Cabel, follows him out. Abel strides down the crosswalk. Abel heads towards the ice cream parlor. The whalebone skeleton dancing above it always catches him off-guard. It has got to be the most consumptive power of monetary waste. It’s an authentic skeleton of an extinct creature. Whalebone parlor still has the best ice cream. They advertise prehistoric recipes. How? The secret lies in a criss-cross pattern of Figment civil rights. It’s an anomaly. An ice cream parlor run by Figments. Shadows and Reflections run the upper management of the franchise. Where they get enough whalebones to create a full skeleton over every site is absurd. 2D Figments help newcomer Figments by teaching recruits the dead languages of primitive human sign-language. Then 3D Figments, many of which are ancient. Figments long since eroded from the creations of long-lost humans. Thus the majority of the employees are 3D Figments that are only a few human generations old. Many of which are those that have escaped or have been freed from the slave labor that everyone knows exists behind the scenes. Since the creation of a Figment is simplicity itself, and making sure that it can’t do anything to retaliate is almost as easy. The real trick is getting them to do what you want. Some Figments can die. If you shatter the frame where a Reflection or 2D Figment resides, it will kill as far as we can tell. A similar destruction applies to 3D Figment. Destroy the structure that makes it up, or morph it until it no longer resembles its Reference in any way has also proven to end the life of a Figment. The Deranged are said to be killable. They are harder to kill then most 3D Figments since being made of the same material of their Reference, a Deranged must be radically altered, usually chemically, in order to no longer resemble their Reference to the point of no longer remaining alive and animate. In this sense, it is possible to kill a human. First, you damage them until they become Deranged, then they radically alter its chemistry until it can’t move anymore. But Shadows? Unless the stories that Shadows can kill others Shadows is true, and he has almost no reason to believe this to be the case, then Shadows are the one Figment that is truly immortal.

All other Figments other than Shadows can be forced into servitude under threat of death. The main issue is for companies to teach language and communication to the Figment slaves. If a Figment escapes or rebels, it is killed. Teaching them language so you can teach them their job takes time, but by a cost-benefit analysis, they can only mess up so many times before the corporation is better off just killing it. But Shadows and 2D Figments are generally useless for companies and corporations because they have no physical presence, and thus cannot perform slave labor. Deranged are too unpredictable and hard to destroy. So 3D Figments made specifically for the purpose of manual labor are the largest make-up for the workers.

But sometimes, some of them escape. Or they are sometimes freed. There are times when the company that owns them goes out of business and doesn’t want to spend the funds to destroy the 3D Figments that they created when they are already financially under the water. Thus, the Whalebone Parlor has many of their employees, escaped or freed or released from these slaver companies. Human governments have a hard time determining morality and laws for slavery using Figments. But some Figment franchises like Whalebone Parlor utilize these ex-slave Figments. They’ve learned new skills. They now serve ice cream at a reputable chain.  Some people are a bit concerned. Figments. Inhuman automatons that do not eat, nor ever need to. They have served as slaves and thus probably do not have the best view of humanity. And they are the ones serving ice cream? A food to humans? Paranoid humans fear poison. What’s to stop them from killing their customers? Well, the answer is simple. Threat of destruction for one. A Human that goes on a murder spree would be shot down without hesitation. Figments have even less rights, so their destruction is pretty much guaranteed if they so much as harm a human, even accidentally. Additionally, their life would be ruined if they harmed their customers even though something more subtle like poison, since they would no longer have customers. Figments don’t eat. Humans eat. Humans are the ones that would be their customers.

What am I even talking about right now? Oh, yeah. Abel walks into the Whalebone Parlor. He wonders what Figments would even do with money. They can survive without any of the maintenance that humans require. Especially since these are ex-slaves, made to require as little maintenance as cost-effective. Abel feels a bit embarrassed for thinking like that. He technically needs very little maintenance as well. Humans need shelter and food. But right now he’s at an ice cream parlor. Dessert serves no purpose in human survival. It is purely for luxury or recreation. If he is willing to spend money on something like that, then why wouldn’t Figments also have a use for money?

Abel forces himself to not be so uncomfortable around the employee Figment. Abel signs his desire for the Leviathan’s Maw. It’s a banana split. It’s the appearance of the gaping face of some extinct sea creature. If it had been a living human, it would have been a Figment. But since it’s of an inhuman creature and one that is long since dead, it is inanimate. Not a Figment. Good thing too. It would be terrifying to produce a food that was a Figment. To do so would be a crime against Figment rights. Abel has read the news. He knows that there is unrest concerning Figment rights. A food Figment by the Reference of a living human would be terrible as the food would perish, and the Figment would die of itself in a short time span.

Abel pays the necessary cash for the Leviathan’s Maw. Abel savors the dessert. He feels self-conscious about eating since the Figments that made his food are incapable of eating or tasting the very food they make.

I had a dream last night.

It involved a lot of sign language. I am having trouble going through the dream chronologically because I woke up multiple times during the night.

There was a point early in my memory of the dream where I was in what I know to be the church building. I don't know if I knew it was the church building in the dream.

The class I had in the building was in the door that would lead to the boys bathroom next to the gym in real life. But in my dream, it wasn't the boys bathroom, it was our classroom.

Angie and what's her name and you know what, I can't remember any of their names.

I don't think we actually ended up doing class. I ended up talking with some really pale boy that I didn't recognize. I think he is younger than me.

I talked to him In the lobby by the front door and in the primary room.

He knew sign language. He went to fast for me to understand. I could use sign language and he would understand.

Strangely, he had trouble understanding me when I spoke. He would repeat back what I said to see if he heard right.

He would mistake my "t" and "d" sounds for each other. He would be slightly off in repeating back my words. It's like they were spelled wrong.

Now I as I write this I realize that he was lip reading. It looks exactly thre same when some one makes a "t" or "d" sound.

How would someone know the difference between "candy" and "canteen?"

In the dream I wondered if he might be deaf because he was a good at sign language.

I tried to ask him in sign language, but he wasn't looking in my direction when I asked him, so he didn't see my sign language.

I told him that I am not good at reading signs or finger spelling.

I thought it was strange that he though I had said "finker spelling" at first until he realized what I meant.

He told me that I simply needed to have conversations with deaf people in sign language and I would learn how to read sign language really quick.

To give me an opportunity to do just that, he invited me to his birthday party where he said that there would be plenty of deaf people.

There was an oddly specific dress cover for hearing people.

After waking up a few times I remember another part of a dream I had last night which occurred much later after the sign language thing.

I was in a building that I don't recognized. We were going to ride motorcycles. First we needed to get the proper equipment registered from the stash of this company.

They had a room full of gear that one might need to ride a motorcycle.

I needed a helmet, shoes and something else that I can't remember.

I had already brought my own helmet and shoes so I didn't think I needed to get use the ones from their storage.

However they said that I had to use official shoes and helmets from their company or I couldn't ride a motorcycle.

I had a really hard time getting a helmet that was the right size and not squishy. Shoes were also pretty hard.

While I was looking through storage for helmets and shoes, I saw some people showing each other the motorcycle-specific sign language that they used. It wasn't American Signlanguage. It was a separate sign language that only motorcyclists know. They went through the alphabet, but I knew that none of those things they were doing were at all related to the finger spelling I know.

To make the letter "A", he put his left arm out as if holding onto a motorcycle handle and took his right hand's index and middle finger to make a "V" shape and slammed them exaggeratedly on his left hand.

The legs of the "V" jumped on the left hand, making it an Upside down "V"

I can understand that the Upside down "V" looks like a capital "A" without a crossbar.

I tried showing them my sign language,  but they had no idea what I was doing. They didn't know American Sign Language.

I finally convince the lady at the desk to let me register my own helmet and shoes instead of their official gear.

I don't know if I wake up again before this third and latest pet of the dream occurs but this third and latest part happens with a boy or man that I don't recognize as Inan awake and I were walking through our neighborhood.

We cross the road past a group of bikers. Like cyclist bikers. They had light weight brightly colored clothes. They leaned forward on their high seated bikes. They pedaled instead of using a motor. They had elbow and knee pads. They also wore helmets of course.

They followed us. Then they got off their bikes and chased us. My friend and I start running. While we running, my friend warns the bikers not harm any of the trees.

I didn't think it mattered if they hurt a tree. I'd rather the bikers hurt a tree than me.

Then another biker. Girl or woman, I'm really bad at ages because I never get a clear look at anyone's face.

This other female biker shows up and chases behind the other bikers.

We cross another road and I look behind to see how close the bikers are.

One of them is right behind me. I jump to the side and land on the grass of someone's lawn.

The biker has to slow down and turn  to face me, but he gets tackled by the female biker. Both of the bikers and wrestling on the ground and the female biker throws a large stick, like a branch, to me.

It lands on the ground in front of me. I hit the biker that attacked me with the stick.

I look back to see how close the other bikers are but they are all on the other side of the street, on the ground unconscious next to a tree where a branch has obviously been torn off.

The biker I attacked is unconscious. I'm about to thank the female biker for saving us when my friend cries out about how the woman harmed the tree.

I think it is pretty absurd. She just saved our lives and this guy is mad that she broke a branch off a tree?

I think that is about the end of my dream.

My Youngest Sister: "Why did the dog cross the road?"

Me: "Because it was bone that way."

My Youngest Sister: "No, silly. Because it wanted to ride an airplane."

--

My Middle Younger Sister: "Why did they the horse cross the road?"

Me: "Because someone said, 'Hay, over here!'"

My Middle Younger Sister: "What? No. It's because it wanted to shoot down a plane."

--

My Middle Younger Sister: "Why did the phone cross the road?"

Me: "Because it was dialing to get there."

My Middle Younger Sister: "What? Hahaha. No, it's because it wanted to get back to it's home and work with his friend, tree."

My Oldest Younger Sister: "Why was the knot in time-Out?"

Me: "Because it was being nau-"

My Oldest Younger Sister: "Because it was being naughty."

Me: "But I was just about to-"

--

My Middle Younger Sister: "Why did the tree cross the road?"

Me: "Because it was struck by lightning."

My Middle Younger Sister: "No, because it wanted to see the doctor."

--

My Middle Younger Sister: "Why did the cross cross the road?"

My Younger Brother: "Because it was double-crossed."

My Middle Younger Sister: "No, because it was cross. Crosses can't move. They can't cross the road."

--

My Oldest Younger Sister: "Why did the fish cross the lake?"

Me: "Because-"

My Oldest Younger Sister: "Because it wanted to see the dock, duhr. Get it? Doctor."

Me: "You didn't even let me-"

My Oldest Younger Sister: "Next joke!"

--

Me: "Why does it take forever for dragons to get anything done?"

My Younger Brother: "Dragons?"

Me: "Yes."

My Younger Brother: "In What? My Little Pony? Is it because they always fight?"

Me: "Haha."

My Younger Brother: "Wait, is this a joke?"

Me: "Yes."

My Younger Brother: "Ugh. The answer has something to do with 'drag.'"

Me: "Their tasks just drag on."

My Younger Brother: "I knew it. I knew it. I knew it. I knew it."

Me: "Haha."

My Younger Brother: "Why am I not surprised? So, are you doing a study on how people respond to jokes? Why are you writing this down?"

Me: "Wait, I'm still writing it down."

--

My Youngest Sister: "Hey! What's this? What's this? What's this?"

Me: "A tiny porcupine plant."

My Youngest Sister: "Ok."

Me: "Achoo! Achoo! No, it's a cat-tail plant."

I don't get most of these jokes. But I thought they were hilarious back in the day.

1. Pelinal: Pelinal Whitestrake walks into Allessian's camp of rebels and asks

"May I help kill the elves?"

Soldiers: The soldiers at camp respond

"Sure?"

Pelinal: Spits upon the ground in disgust and growls

"I do not care for your God-logic."

2. What do Morihaus-Breath-Of-Kyne and Alesia tell their Minotaur children to make them feel special?

"You're one of a Kyne

3. Falmer. no.

Fall, Mer! Yes grammar (Ysgrammor)

4. In order to gain power and immortality, a hagraven must sacrifice their beauty to pay for her sins (Hircine)

5. Who's Hircine?

The real questions is who Is Not?

The answer is Sithis by the way.

6. There is a witch named anise. As in "A Nice Witch"

7. Lichen Lycanthrope

8. Wait, Sanguine, the Daedric Prince of Debauchery, is trespassing in Tamriel! But he's not allowed to do that!

He's just carousing the taverns, he's practically harmless. Just humor him.

Simplified.

Sanguine is trespassing through Nirn!

9. Pelinal Whitestrake. The great warrior in the war between men and elves. Upon slaughtering the armies of the Adamantium Tower, the Sorceror-Kings of the Elves asked, "What will it take to defeat this monster of a man?"

Pelinal Whitestrake heard this, and answered with disdain, "To defeat me? You'd need, Um, a real fighter."

That was when Umaril the feathered, demigod champion of the elves soared down from his roost to strike Pelinal in Single combat, yelling, "Oohm a real fighter!"

10. Some people say the Wood Elves are cannibals because they only eat meat, including dead humans and elves.

The Wood Elves don't think they are cannibals because they don't ever eat any plant matter. In fact, the Wood Elves have never so much have eaten the bark off a tree.

TLDR: So how can Wood Elves be cannibals if they don't eat trees or Wood.

11. The human officer scoffed at the Elf. "What are you and your archers going to do when we have Airplanes?"

The elf took out his bow and shot him in the knee and said, "How is that for arrow pains?"

12. When entering the Capital City of Highrock there are two signs. The first says, Warning: Rockfall for the next ten miles. The second says, Welcome to Daggerfall for the next ten miles.

13. Countries are claimed when you throw an object on the ground.

Hammerfell and Daggerfall.

Countries might be named for the weather and topography.

Morrowind for living in the ashen fallout of an active volcano where they hope that the wind will blow away the ash.

Skyrim for the mountains filling the view upwards as the sky rimmed with mountains.

14. It's a good thing Pelinal Whitestrake shows up to help Alesia's rebels. His ways may have been unorthodox, but they were certainly Nedic. (Needed)

15. The Bosmer take an Argonian in on trial for the unlawful destruction of a Valenwood tree.

The Argonian, didn't see the problem, the Wood elves don't claim to own Valenwood or its trees.

The Bosmer judge sentenced the Argonian to punishment, but the Argonian protested, saying, "But it wasn't Hist Tree."

16. There were two snow elves left after the near extinction of the snow elves. One was a vampire, but the other couldn't tell, because the snow elves were already as pale as can be so he couldn't tell any difference.

17. There are old shows and many of them have reboots. For example, She-ra: Princess of power has a reboot. But I haven't heard much about any reboot of the other old show that went along She-ra.

So I wonder "How does He-Man-age?"

18. Elves and magic go hand in hand. But humans and killing elves go sword in hand.

Book idea: Lonely in the midst of a crowd.

Based on the idea of my several mind states and how everybody is in their own world, even when communicating with you. They communicate through an imperfect medium, whether it be body gestures, speech, script or signs. They are separated from you as if by a world.

Every body seems to be in their one little world.

So the idea is that everybody is in their own dimension. They cannot travel the dimension of anybody else.

Though all these dimensions are parallel and so close together, that we can perceive others as though they were in our own dimension.

All these dimensions are based on the true dimension, which is the world and can affect everyone.

How much someone can affect another dimension is limited. But they can affect the base dimension as if it were their own, because it is their own. Such changes show in all dimensions.

This is not a multiverse idea. This is how everyone is separated by a dimension, alternate reality, individual universe.

Literally, everybody is in their own universe, but they have limited ability to affect other universes.

This is further influenced by a blog post I once read when I was looking for something important to me. They determined that we don't "lose things" as we seem to think. But rather, we accidentally transfer ourself to an alternate universe the object was not placed where it was in the universe we came from.

So, to find the object, one must change their mind-state to return to the universe in which they set down the object.

That was nonsense.

I'm not sure how the book universe will work, but I got the basic premise that everyone is in their own universe as I perceive everyone in real life to be in their own mind.

While in seclusion from this quarantine. This realm seems infinite beyond potential because of our minds showing us worlds that exceed the limits of our house.

Then, my mind efficiency having changed after reading a particularly big-worded and boring part of Gulliver's Travels, I perceive the world in a different light.

I can literally stand and do nothing, and feel no boredom from it. As if I don't care for the passing of time.

I have passed from this feeling now.

But it was a mind of stupor. I couldn't think and had no desire for anything. Nor do I have any emotion. I thought I could do the dishes without any dislike or fulfillment.

But I also had no motivation to do so, so I made no effort.

I stood in the doorway, at a time I dropped my pencil. I waited a quarter of a minute before I worked up the mind to pick it up.

These different mind states seem to me like different dimensions.

As these dimensions are equivalent to mind states, a person in the book must be able to change between dimensions, but not with very much control or very much effect.

They can choose to draw near another person or away.

But they can never enter the same universe as another.

Slinwey the four-armed insectoid humanoid. Glowing green eyes. She isn’t recognizable as human, but as a monster. Slinwey rises from the embers of a burning log cabin on the seaside. The Sun wanes in the sky, Crismon light beams down its hateful rays. The dark waves lap up the debris of charcoal and ash. Slinwey pulls herself free of the smoldering wreckage.

Slinwey examines her surroundings. The beach, once lined with Summer Homes, now lies desolate. Despite the glaring Sun, it’s dark-red hue is wanting in illumination. The world is akin to sunset from the low-light levels.

And yet, she is not alone. She spots dessicated figures drenched and dripping, wreathed in kelp and seaweed. There are three of them. Humanoid in shape and size. Two arms. Two legs. One head. Bipedal. Are they human? If they were human, perhaps they could be described as female. Though it’s quite difficult to tell. Slinwey glowers at the three figures that can be loosely described as women.

Slinwey claps her mandibles in frustration. “Succubi. Disgusting vermin.” Slinwey recognizes them as pests, but she knows they are not the root of the problem. They are merely a symptom of the corruption and filth that has overcome Fairyland. Like rats or ants in the home, they are attracted to filth, not the cause of it. Of course, now that the infestation has taken hold, they must be rooted out and destroyed or banished. But such actions are futile as long as filth remains to draw others to take their place. For this reason, Slinwey almost lets them live, as killing them accomplishes nothing.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” The choked rasps of a succubus hisses to Slinwey, “You wouldn’t happen to know where Yes ran off to, and when he might be back, would you?” Slinwey scowls at the succubi. Radio static emanates from the insectoid. The signal wavers between chatter and static as though dialing between channels. Finally, the radio signal becomes clear with only minimal background noise. Slinwey speaks. Her voice is not her own. It is the clips of voices from others stitched together. “You’ve sealed your fate.” Slinwey evokes in a manner similar to speech, “Join the ashes. Burn for your sins.”

The succubi glance at eachother–large black bulbous lumps of mucus for eyes, and shrug their shoulders. “I guess she hasn’t seen Yes.” one succubus says to another. Slinwey marches steadily towards the seaweed-covered female humanoids with waves slapping their ankles. She reaches out with each of her four arms. Shimmering mist coalesces in each of her pincer-like claws. With a “pop”, the black blades of serrated chitin fizzle into form, glistening with condensation. Slinwey’s eyes change from green to red. The succubi freeze, going stiff, muscles tense. “Woah, woah! Let’s be civil.” one of the Succubi stammers. The succubi back away from the approaching insectoid. The succubi are soon up to their ankles in water with waves splashing up their calves.

The blades whistle in the swing of Sliwney’s arms. The kelp-covered grotesque woman collapses into a bundle of flesh-coated bones strung with muscles and sinew. The entity fizzes with steam bubbling up from the mucus membrane. The two others give up hope for diplomacy. They turn and run, leaping deeper into the water. Slinwey’s red-eyed visage blurs, then she disappears entirely. Her image stutters into place in front of the fleeing succubi. They scatter to the sides. Slinwey’s image solidifies and she fully reappears. She cuts through the viscous inky liquid tainted red by Crimson sunlight. She catches a succubus by the back of its neck. Her blades sink deep into its shoulders. This succubus, as well, falls lifeless and loses structural integrity and shape, becoming little more than a bundle of bones loosely held together by muscles.

The last succubus kicks frantically, punching strokes in the water. Slinwey gives chase. She whips through the sludge. However, as she closes into the vaguely woman-like creature, the thick reddish-black liquid of the ocean begins to stick to Slinwey like adhesive.  Slinwey struggles to keep herself afloat. Forward movement becomes impossible. She would surely sink if the liquid wasn’t so dense. The succubus struggles with the same difficulties. Slinwey reneges on her plan to kill the succubus. Her eyes fade from red to green. The environment is rapidly succumbing to corruption. She curses her temper. She let herself enter a dangerous situation. If she were anyone else, this grave mistake would be fatal. Indeed, as she concentrates on her surroundings, analyzing her environment. She can hear the succubus sink beneath the viscous waves. Thick sludge tires them out too fast to swim in.

Worlds of envy. They’re someone else’s problem now. Slinwey’s eyes flicker between green and light-blue. She recalls herself to where she stood on the shore a mere minute before. She appears on the sand, blinking out of the ocean. Eyes settling on light-blue. The ooze-like ocean seeps up the beach, consuming the bundles of bones and flesh that remains of the succubi. Slinwey frowns at the sea… or rather, she tries to frown. She lacks the facial muscles to do so. She despises her static expression. She doesn’t subscribe to the idea of pheromonal replacement for facial expressions. Her anttennae can’t help but detect pheromones and other chemicals, such as the acrid sulfur in the smokey air.

“I have to get out of here.” Slinwey says. Who is she talking to? As if in response, Sinwey says, “I’m talking to you, Yes. I know you can hear me. Get me out of here” Slinwey stands her ground as the black sea crawls up the sand one wave at a time. Slinwey can outrun the ocean. It’s not very fast. There are no obstacles blocking her escape. The wooden cabins have long-since burned to the ground. Paved walkways lead from the ruined cabins to the parking lot up the hill.

Slinwey stares down the ocean. “You’re watching.” She says, “I can feel it. Returned to the scene of the crime? Perhaps to make amends for abandoning us to the corruption?” Slinwey doesn’t see anyone. The only sound is the crackling of embers and crash of syrup-like waves. The only creatures that register on her antennae are the faint scents of the three succubi consumed by the ocean. “What do you hope to accomplish by coming back here?” Slinwey asks, “Does our suffering amuse you? I demand you take me from this place at once!” Slinwey doesn’t have much time before the ocean will reach her and drag her beneath, drowning her. She’ll have to flee up the hill to the parking lot if she is to survive.

Slinwey stares blankly in an effort to roll her immobile, light-blue, unblinking, compact, insect eyes. The sarcasm in the expression fails to appear given her inability to roll her eyes. “I’m just gonna stand here and let the waves take me” Slinwey threatens, “Is that what you want? Who will you watch suffer and struggle through affliction and trial if everyone’s dead?” Slinwey stubbornly threatens her own life. Inky tendrils stretch from the waters and grasp her chitinous legs.

“So you’re gonna let me die?” Slinwey asks, “You’re so set on ignoring me that you would condemn yourself to eternal isolation, killing your only companions?” Slinwey’s lunatic ravings encourage the dark waters, which splash against her ankles. The last source of the light, the embers under her feet, are extinguished. Everything goes black. The crimson Sun provides no illumination except for itself. Slinwey can see the Sun in the sky but nothing else.

“Are you doing this on-purpose?” Slinwey asks, “You really want me to leave without acknowledging me as  a person?” Slinwey isn’t insane. Thus, this behavior of talking to no one is rather uncharacteristic for her. The sludge rises to her knees with waves slapping up to her waist and tendrils rising to wrap around her wrists. She is out of time. If only she had fled sooner, she would have survived.

“So that’s how it is, huh?” Slinwey says, monotone, emotionless, “Fairyland is your responsibility. But if your intent on ignoring us, then you make me your enemy.” Slinwey bobs up and down in the waters. The inky molasses rises above her waist. Waves crash over her head. Tendrils tighten around all her carapace to drag her below. “You’ll either return to Fairyland,” Slinwey threatens, eyes flickering between light-blue and red, “or I’ll have you replaced with someone less negli-” Slinwey’s words are cut off by the waves crashing above her head. Restrained under the water, air bubbles streaming from her mandibles as she foolishly exhales, emptying her lungs of life-preserving oxygen. Slinwey’s eyes stop flickering between light-blue and red, fading to black. The light gone from her face. She doesn’t struggle.

On the shore, the corruption spreads. The tides rise above the burnt cabins. Smoke takes on a sickly green glow. “Yes, this isn’t over.” Slinwey says, “I’m still here and I don’t plan on leaving.” The crimson Sun, whose light provides no illumination is smothered by storm clouds. The parking lot pavement beings to crack. Black lines spiderweb across the ground. Thunder rumbles the sky. A terrible storm. Where can it all go? Who will save us now? “I’m not dead. I’m ready to pick up the slack if you’re ready to end the silent treatment.” Slinwey says, “There is no adventure without a hero. Are you going to bend and talk to me? Or are you going to be stubborn and break?”

Twilight: “Everypony, I just received a message from Sunset Shimmer saying that she is an Element of Harmony, the Element of Empathy. Do you know what this means? There could be Elements of Harmony that we still haven’t discovered.”

Applejack: “Maybe, but they would have to be one of our friends. It is the power of friendship after all.”

Pinkie Pie: “Hey, Spike is our friend. Maybe he is an Element of Harmony.”

Rainbow Dash: “Yeah, but he didn’t gain his Cutie Mark from my Sonic Rainboom. All of the Elements of Harmony here got their Cutie Mark from my Sonic Rainboom.”

Spike: “That’s not fair. I’m a dragon. I can’t even get a Cutie Mark.”

Rarity: “Yes, if Cutie Marks were required to be an Element of Harmony, then only ponies would be able to Elements of Harmony.”

Twilight: “But Spike’s not a pony. And the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that he is an Element of Harmony.”

Spike: “Wait, what? I’m not an Element.”

Twilight: “Yes you are, Spike. We may not always notice, and we don’t include you as much as should, but you are our friend.”

Spike: “Oh, thank you.”

Twilight: “But that’s not all. When I think about it, I realize that you embody an Element of Harmony that is incredibly under-appreciated: the Element of Helping, Service or Selflessness.”

Rarity: “That’s nice, but how did you come up with that?”

Twilight: “Well, Spike saves our lives all the time. And he does it without the power of an Element of Harmony.”

Rainbow Dash: “So shouldn’t he be the Element of Saving our Lives?”

Twilight: “Yes, Spike. You’re my friend, and you represent the Element of Saving our lives.”

Spike: “I think you might be right. I wouldn’t have-what is that?”

Fluttershy: “Ahh, it’s so bright. It’s…”

Pinkie Pie: “It’s an Element of Harmony!”

Rainbow Dash: “Uhh, shouldn’t it be a gem?”

Twilight: “Maybe dragons manifest metallic Elements of Harmony?”

Rarity: “Yes, that would be very helpful. We wouldn’t want Spike eating his Element of Harmony, now would we.”

Pinkie Pie: “Why not? It would probably taste delicious. In fact, Spike, you wouldn’t mind if I had a little taste…”

Applejack: “Don’t be silly, Pinkie Pie. It’s a powerful magical artifact. Eating would be a waste, no matter how delicious it is.”

Fluttershy: “But we don’t need the physical Elements of Harmony. We ARE the Elements of Harmony. Eating wouldn’t stop us from using our powers.”

Twilight: “Yeah, Sombra destroyed the Tree of Harmony and the Elements with it, but we still used the power of friendship to defeat him as though we held the Elements of Harmony.

Spike: “So… I could eat my Element of Harmony. I mean, I don’t need it for anything else, right?”

Twilight: “I wouldn’t recommend eating it. It’s metal. Dragons can metabolize gemstones, but metal isn’t exactly good for you.”

Pinkie Pie: “But it’s not just any old metal. It’s a metal of Harmony. It’s magical. And magical things tend to be edible.”

Rainbow Dash: “Pinkie, you worry me. You said that as though you had experience eating magical things.”

Pinkie Pie: “Well, duh. Haven’t we all drunk potions before?”

Twilight: “That’s not exactly the same thing as eating a piece of metal.”

Spike: “Well, I’m sure curious to see what it tastes like, and I see no reason not to so... here we go.”

Twilight: “Wait!”

Spike eats the metal Element of Harmony, but he begins coughing as though he is almost choking.

Pinkie Pie: “He needs water!”

Spike drinks some water and finally swallows the metal.

Spike: “Thank you Pinkie Pie. I probably should have realized it would be hard to swallow.”

Fluttershy: “Are you hurt?”

Spike: “No, I’m fine.”

Pinkie Pie: “How did it taste?”

Spike: “To be honest. It tasted like regular metal.”

Applejack: “How would you know what metal tastes like?”

Spike: “Haven’t you ever used a fork or spoon?”

Rarity: “Oh, silly Spike. Only unicorns can use silverware. It’s simply too hard to hold with just your hooves.”

Twilight: “Well, Spike. You just ate an Element of Harmony. Do you feel any different? I would expect there to be something noticeable from having consumed such powerful magical artifact."

Spike: “No, it’s really disappointing. I kind of thought there would be… wait. What’s this?

Rainbow Dash: “What? What’s happening?”

Fluttershy: “How do you feel?”

Applejack: “You’ve got to give a little more description, Spike. We don’t know what you’re talking about if you don’t tell us.”

Spike: “Well, it’s sort of hard to explain. It’s like a flame… in my stomach.”

Rarity: “Isn’t that normal? You know, with you being a fire-breathing dragon and all.”

Spike: “No, I breathe fire, like out of my lungs. This is in my stomach. Like when I have a tummy ache.”

Rainbow Dash: “Well, I’d probably have a tummy ache if I had just eaten a bunch of metal.”

Spike: “But it doesn’t hurt like a tummy ache. It’s warm, it’s comfortable. I wonder if I can…”

Twilight: “What? If you can what?”

Spike: “WOW. This is something different. There is no way I can explain this.”

Pinkie Pie: “Oh, can’t you please try?”

Spike: “It’s what I imagine using magic would feel like to a unicorn. A warm tingly sense, but it’s in my belly instead of my horn. It’s power, potential. I just need to learn how to use it.”

Fluttershy: “Oh dear, you don’t sound okay. Maybe we should get a doctor.”

Rainbow Dash: “Aren’t you a doctor Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy: “What? No, I’m not. I couldn’t, it seems like too much pressure.”

Pinkie Pie: “Of course not, don’t be silly Rainbow Dash. She’s an Animal Doctor. A Vegetarian.”

Rarity: “You mean Veterinarian?”

Pinkie Pie: “No, I mean a vegetarian, an herbivore. She only eats plants.”

Fluttershy: “No, I’m not a vet. I’m not a professional. I just do what I can to help any poor creature that needs help.”

Twilight: “Regardless, Fluttershy is probably right. Spike needs a doctor.”

…

(Later, at the Doctor’s)

…

Twilight: “Ah, thank you for seeing us Doctor Stethoscope.”

Doctor Stethoscope: “It’s always a pleasure. Now what seems to be the problem today?”

Twilight: “Well, Spike ate a bite of metal, and he feels different now. He keeps talking about, well actually. Spike, how about you tell him.”

Spike: “Well, I ate a piece of metal, and now I feel a soft warm burning in my stomach, but it isn’t an uncomfortable burning.”

Doctor Stethoscope: “Ahh, well. That will happen when you eat metal. It tends to rub your stomach the wrong way, and it doesn’t feel too good.”

Spike: “So this is normal?”

Doctor Stethoscope: “Well, we don’t exactly have a lot of ponies, or dragons, come for treatment for eating metal. But as far as my experiences, yes it is normal.”

Twilight: “Good, we thought it might have something to do with the magical nature of the metal.”

Doctor Stethoscope: “Excuse me, what?”

Twilight: “The magical nature… Oh, did we forget to tell you. The metal Spike ate, it was an Element of Harmony.”

Doctor Stethoscope: “Well, that kind of renders my expertise obsolete doesn’t it. I might have treated a few patients who accidentally ate some metal, but I have never treated any who ate an Element of Harmony. Now it is not my place, so I won’t judge. But may I suggest that you, um, never do that again.”

Spike: “Yeah, it was kind of foolish. It’s just that, well, I thought. I mean, I'm a dragon, I eat gemstones. And the Elements of Harmony are usually gems, but this was metal. But I still kind of thought it was just a gem that looked like metal.”

Doctor Stethoscope: “It’s fine. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. But needless to say. You don’t need a doctor. I don’t have the ability to help you in this situation. If it were merely metal. I might have you regurgitate the object. But an Element of Harmony. That is getting into metaphysics and philosophy. You might want to ask historians or mythologians. But I’m simply a doctor. I can’t help with this.

Spike’s Element

Twilight: “Gather around everpony. I just received a message from Sunset Shimmer from beyond the Mirror Portal. I’ve already read this message, but I think this is something you all need to hear.”

Spike: “What is it Twilight?”

Twilight: “It’s about the Elements of Harmony. I want you to save all of your questions until after I have read the entire message. Here it goes. Dear Princess Twilight Sparkle,

It’s me, again, your faithful student and friend, Sunset Shimmer. Please forgive my abruptness, for I am eager to share what I have learned with you.

I have recently returned from my school trip to Camp Everfree. I will describe my experience there in more detail later. But right now, I wish to share single point of my adventure there, one of greatest importance and relevance to your dealings in Equestria. Our friends and I have obtained greater access to magic, which is clearly of Equestrian origin.

Each of my friends, including me, received a magical power unique to our individual. The source of this new magic are some magical gemstones that were found inside a rock. Because of this, we call them geodes. I believe that these geodes are similar to the Elements of Harmony.

When we are close to these geodes, we can call upon their powers to access that unique power it grants, or we can use it in combination with our power of friendship to perform feats similar to what you and our friends did with the Element of Magic to remove the corruption from me.

As those feats were only possible by drawing upon the power of the Element of Magic, I believe that these geodes have similar properties and powers to the Elements of Magic. But this is not my greatest discovery. Since each geode is keyed to a bearer of the Elements of Harmony, or their clone from this world, and the geodes themselves seemed to be this world’s version of the Elements of Harmony, I was surprised to find that I have a geode. This is akin to me having an Element of Harmony.

As you know, this is a discovery of great importance. For if these geodes really mirror the Elements of Harmony, and I have an Element of Harmony, then that must mean that there are more than six Elements of Harmony. There is probably someone in Equestria who is a bearer of an Element of Harmony who you have not yet discovered to have the power of friendship.

But as we have previously supposed that there were only six Elements, but now I believe there to be seven. There might be even more than seven Elements of which we have not yet found.

Evidently, I must have written the major scenes first, each summarized in a single sentence to remind me, so that I could write down the rest of it later. But most if the dream appears to have been lost to memory.

I remember that I had just heard about Rollercoaster of Friendship (something from My Little Pony: Equestria Girls, in case you're confused) and hadn't had the chance to see it before I went to bed that night, so that's why I had a dream about it. I also recall that the actual Rollercoaster of Friendship was dissappointing because of the exceedingly high expectations set by the dream I had.

Swimming Class? Teacher is my Health teacher in Highschool?

I see multiple people by the face, each talking about how they are the best at something in this gathering, most beautiful, tallest, etc… Some talk about being the 2nd most or 3rd most. Anyone who is not the very best is seen crying profusly.

Teacher announces Swimming class to be finished for summer. Everyone leaves. I get out, and see locker room on the other side of pool. I jump into pool and swim to other side and get out without teacher seeing me. As I walk into locker room, I hear a splash behind me and teacher scolds student for swimming without permission and after students have been told to leave pool. Student is about to explain that I had just done the same when I close door behind me and enter Locker Room.

I enter the left side of the locker room and see Urinals on left side of wall and line of people in line and swimming forward in shallow water? Person in front of line, farthest away from me, facing me, all other students in line are facing that front person, person in front is teacher with long hair, seen him host dungeons and dragons. I realize I had entered in by the right side of the locker room and turn left seeing two lanes, I quickly swim through the middle lane, surfacing once to get air, then when I reach the last lane, the teacher is there. He says we may now use the showers, everyone in line rushes to urinals and uses them. Three people stand by and offer to let me use the urinal first, though they act as if generous, I know they have malicious intent and the snicker at my suppossed expense. I look at the urinal and know that there is nothing wrong with it, and they really will not gain anything from letting me use it first. I use the urinal, I really need to use the bathroom, so I don’t care if there might be something wrong with the urinal.

Giant Robot came from super speed?

Call of Duty?

Staircase to where?

I climb up the staircase to the top of a mansion  at night with tons of snow on top, it is snowing, and winter and cold and full of christmas lights. Mom and dad tell me to come down. I go down into the house and they explain that we must wait for Christmas.

Christmas In July?

Twilight does not know Starlight very well?

Twilight is looks at picture of sun, that looks like an artistic representation, though is as if a shadow being cast from the sun. Follows the sun as it orbits earth (don’t question the nonsense of dreams) Twilight says, "If I was really friends with starlight, I would know her. If I really knew her I would already know the secrets of this." She takes out a dark brown ball and opens it in half revealing light green semicircles with swirling lines through them. She invites starlight to try to figure out the secrets.

What Secrets does the Green swirly circle hold?

The Sports mix up?

The friend called, My Cousin?

My Cousin and I go to a Store?

My father tells Me that my friend (not My Cousin) can go to do what he wants because My Cousin and I are going to play games for a while.

I go inside, My Cousin got there first, instead of playing games with the play two get three free deal my family shows up and we order food that looks like pancakes. Pancake I tried had Roast Beef.

Annoying Store?

People with party whistles made from balloons taunt me by whistling.

Roller Coaster of Friendship?

Twilight looks like midnight sparkle but she is princess twilight sparkle. She flys to catch the person who had been whistling. We catch up, to find some unfriendly girls that are standing in a spotlight at night inside the store.Twilight Sparkle’s friends appear inclujding Sunset shimmer all in human form. Sunset says that they have to be quick because she cannot maintain such magic for long period’s of time, and they all turn into large beautiful brids with trails behind them as they fly. They form trails in a pattern of a heart and fill in the heart with more patterns. I suddenly understand that they are in a contest against eachother but chose who can look cooler instead of fighting, I detect that up to this point, the egotistical human girls had easily won every challenge up to this point. In response to the colorful and magical display of the rainbooms, the egotistical girls reveal a gargantuan christmas tree. Twilight comes over with two prizes, one for best dispkay, and one for victory, the spotligght is on a girl, so we think she will win, but instead of winning she only gets a christmas green circle decoration as her prize and twilight announces her name as cozy glow, cozy glow runs off shouting with joy, and the spotlight follows her along with literally everyone else, twilight gives the egotistical girl’s leader the golden cup trophy full of bits as a reward for winning. The egotistical girl is shocked that everyone is happy for and following cozy glow even though cozy glow didn’t win. The spotlight shines on the egotistical girl, and the image in my memory is nondistinct, but I keep forming the image of the leader of the dazzlings. The egotistical girl looks down all sad like, and the only remaining person besdies her is another girl. The egotistical girl says something about how the other team only won because they had magical ponies, and the girl besides her says, “you know, I’ve actually been meaning to tell you but, I’m a pony.” The egotistical girl looks disgusted and turns her back on her. The Egotistical girl describes that she is sad because nobody loves her anymore. The girl who admitted that she was a pony says, “but I love you.” (I can’t tell if this was in a romantic way or a friendly way) The egotistical girl responds that the pony girl is a traitor for being a pony. The Pony girl is offeneded and asks what she has against ponies. The egotistical girl says, “Oh nothing, I think ponies are great. They have magic, can fly, are beautiful, and are all around cool. Butt they don’t belong here.” Pony girl is about to burst into tears and responds, “so the reason that you don’t like me has nothing to do with me, but just because your terrible.” Then Pony girl shouts some nonsense about how egotistical girl doesn’t love her because egotistical girl only loves herself. (At this point I question if pony girl was talking about love in a romantic sense) She walks

Pony girl walks away on all fours through the hall. The Hall is then revealed to be a bus. I notice shoe and dog shaped prints on the ground. The pony girl mentions something about whether she was the one responsible for the false alarm.

I think to myself that I had been so silly, because I thought it was called a roller coaster of friendship because it had to do with the fair but In actuality it was

Rarity the fairy

Story of a Pony in a Human world?

Story of a Pony Playing videogames?

Story of a Pony in a human world continued

Hearth's Warming Hooves? In Summer?

My little pony fan fiction

*EQG world and FiM world are in danger of colliding because they are parallel worlds are pointing towards each other as both worlds become more similar to each other until they collide; all aspects that overlap are annihilated.

*Human Ego Eccentric walks into CHS school yard and yells, "Does anybody know who and where Sunset Shimmer is?" Sunset Shimmer tells Ego that she is Sunset Shimmer. Ego says, "The world is ending. I need you to come with me and save the world." Sunset shimmer will ask, "Why do you need me and where are we going?" Ego will yell loud enough for the Equestria Girls to hear, "We are going to Equestria!"

*Ego easily produces a massive portal beneath Sunset Shimmer which she immediately falls into a; she turns into her pony self.

*Ego's cutie mark crystals form in a circle around him; shooting black lightning in a circle around Sunset Shimmer. She then falls into the portal to Equestria and become her pony self. Ego nearly collapses with examination and crawls to the portal.

*Ego easily creates a portal vertically in the air next to the ground. He uses gravity change to throw Sunset Shimmer and himself into the portal.

*Ego uses cutie mark crystals to produce a vertical portal in the air, and pushes Sunset Shimmer inside.

**Sunset Shimmer turns into her pony self. Shortly afterward but before Sunset Shimmer can visit Twilight through the mirror portal, Human Ego sees Sunset Shimmer and created a portal I a way presented before.

***Human Ego jumps off the horse statue on top of the mirror portal and goes to Sunset Shimmer and says, "Come with me; we need to save Equestria." The horse statue animates and zero throws Sunset Shimmer onto the stone horse as they run through a portal that Ego makes.

*If a portal is made underneath Sunset Shimmer then she falls into it and Ego tells the Equestria Girls that they must not follow. They follow anyway, starting with Rainbow Dash who has zero hesitation.

If I was made of porcelain, cursed to steal your soul. Broken like a statuette of glass--like dolls fragile.

A mermaid! A mermaid! A fish! A bird! A tree! Serpentine. Draconic. Whatever it might be. Covered in bark, head to toe. Fur-tipped, hide of cow. What you call a firbolg, these dainty mermaid are much more. Drained of dreams of gambling in slot machines. No chance to leave. Waste my money and my time. Then I find my friend to try. Wins instantly the lottery. Jackpot achieve, I can't believe.

But that's just the wild luck of Fae, they spit in statistic's face. Law of chance. Law of change. But in entropy, chaos reigns. Forests of the Will-O-Wisp. Need advice? Here's a tip: prick your thumb, let the blood drip, then smear the liquid on your lips. Beauty is pain, but pain's not beauty. Tell the harpies not to hurt me.

Welcome to Northshore Strand. The Naga here are excited--pleased to meet you, as it were; can't wait to eat you, they hold a fork. Trident and blade to hold you to the plate, no hands to hold what they wish to engulf.

And upon the gulf of misery, up the mountain, there, you'll see--But upon the remote sanctuary, we hold the ocean beneath. Don't hold your breath, we can still breathe. The glass walls protect thee. The air is clean, circulating through an oxygen storage machine.

Barren land. Barren waste. The white-washed rocks have no place. Terrans exploit the favorite sheep, closer to cloister the library. Hope follows where ' ere I go. Try my cold oregano. Falls in pits. Notched arrow. But I won't fire, my bowstring broke.

The trees ask me if I want tea. I say "No thanks, I'd rather leave." But those trees, mockingly shake in the wind and drop their leaves.

I'll be honest, I've no idea what this one was about. I don't think it's a dream or a story, but it lacks the proper strycture of a poem.

-

My very mind is riveted as if the jaw of a beast were clamped around my skull, crushing into my forehead. Not an unpleasant sensation. It's actually quite comforting to have a nice firm pressure against my head.

Focus is entirely a will of its own. I could wrangle it, grab it by the horns, but I find myself without a will to do so. I'm crawling on my hands and knees. No teeth. No claws. Disarmed and defanged.

The walls of my sanctuary are listening to my thoughts. Watching intently, they wait for the opportune moment. The light from the windows pulse. Rugs writhe on the ground. Tassels tickling my legs.

The air buffets the trees, branches swaying in the storm. Rain rattles the shutters. Cushions whisper and warn--the floor is a callous advisor, whittling away the artifice.

Footsteps lead to the door. The door opens to reveal another... door. Inside a closet dark and cramped. Open the door. You're in another room. An attic-space but it's on the same floor.

Beds. Beds from couches. Beds on frames. Beds from closets. Beds on springs. Beds fall from the wall. Beds fold from the dresser. Beds in paintings to come to life. Beds in murals become real. Cushions, covers, pillows, blankets. Bed sheets smother sleeping children. In the morning, then I'll wake them. Up before sunrise, I'm a morning person. Light switch blind eyes, it's 6:00 a.m.

Pots and pans and pitchers. Water fills the vase with flowers. Open terrain, the game plan design. Break down the walls, let in natural light.

Patient. I am ever so patient. Waiting, even when you're absent. Basement. I am in your basement. Waiting, for you to check your storage.

I dreamed I was in a spaceship in orbit. I was not alone. But I didn't trust the crew. None of the passengers knew how they had arrived. And the coincidences started stacking up. The personnel in uniform, black visors and gas mask-like helmets hid their faces. They were supposedly the ship's crew, but their function on the ship was as vague as their unsatisfactory answers to our questions.

People got lost. Families separated. Children missed their parents, parents looked for their children. They'd been together when they arrived, but they'd lost track of each other a few hours later.

The ship was only so big. While the crowds dispersed, I was certain their numbers grew thin. But more people kept arriving. The number of inhabitants should have been increasing, the ship should've grown more crowded. Yet I eventually found it hard to find even a single soul. Even the crew in uniform face-obscuring masks were nowhere to be found.

In the spaceship in the dream, the few people I found were losing their sanity. Crushed by loss and anxiety. Struck by paranoia, they're suspicious of me. I've got everything together. I'm not bothered at all. I'm not lost or searching for someone else. I'm not curled up in a ball or knelt in grief against the wall. I'm wandering aimlessly, exploring the ship. Watching the stars in awe and how the planet spins.

The whole place is so empty where it was once so full. Where I was overwhelmed by the crowds, I'm now alone. Lost in the twisting turns of an expansive ship that once seemed so small and simple.

Where was I before? How did I get to the ship? I was at a restraunt. Was I getting ice cream? I'm not sure, but there was an odd situation in which I was ordering food while at a hotel than later I was at a food truck at a gas station, then later under a bridge on the rocks by a river. Wait, this is starting to seem a little odd. I was never hungry in the dream. I remember before ate anything I was a little disgusted with how much everyone with me was eating.

Regardless, in the spaceship, I found about three people grouped together. I was determined I wouldn't lose track of them. What a pitiless attempt. One of them was one of the crew. This crew member just stood there by the wall, staring. They stared forward, unmoving like a statue. We couldn't see their eyes or face because of the visor and mask, but we knew they were aware of us because when we moved near it, it sometimes moved it head face us. However, it didn't speak or respond to our questions in anyway.

There were two other people with us. A man and a woman. They didn't know eachother and we're rather displeased with how they couldn't find their families and friends that they had arrived here with.

After much discussion about what we should do. We agreed that we needed to stick together but whether to stay out or search the ship was a point of contention.

"That crew member won't follow us, and the more people we have with us, the better. So we should stick with the crew." - this was something along the lines of the woman's opinion. She voted we should stay here.

The man strongly disagreed. "We should move so we can find others, and we want to be as far away from these crew members as we can. They're responsible for bringing us here. They should be considered our enemy and a threat."

I however voted that we should stay since I feared that we would get separated from eachother if we moved. The man got very angry. He shouted. This drew the attention of the crew member who didn't move but to turn its head in his direction. The man redirected his anger towards the crew member and shouted at it and gesturing and pointing. The crew member seemed unfazed.

The man shook his head and walked away the opposite direction of the crew member to cool off. He took care not to leave our line of sight lest we get separated. The short wall in the alive only slightly obscured our view of him, but it was enough to miss a crucial detail. In that area something happened or maybe he did something. A few minutes later, I walked over to check on him and found him looking different than he had before. The young man was nowhere to be found, but a balding old man with ragged and ripped clothes wielding a metal walking stick that has buttons and blinking lights and a handle with a miniature lever. I don't quite understand the device, but he held it threateningly. Whether it's a weapon or not, I imagine it would hurt if he hit me with it. I backed away. He told me how in his hoarse voice nearly whispered how he destroyed the oxygen on the ship and was the only one left alive on the ship, surviving off the med-kits hidden in the alcoves. But then he gnashes on teeth in anger and spat as he described how more people would continue to arrive. Sure, they would die of suffocation rather quickly, but it meant that whoever was kidnapping people and bringing them to the ship had not died to the lack of oxygen. That had been his goal. He was hoping to kill the kidnappers even if it meant killing their victims as well.

I left him alone. He was clearly insane. I head back to the crew member and the wo-"Where is the woman?" The crew member points down the hall to the right. I follow its directions without thinking. How foolish, I leave their line of sight. I slide in to a thin alcove then jump to reach the edge of a tall 7-8 ft wall. Then I climb up and over to the other side. Here it is. I have the impression that the woman is here. Or at the very least, she was. But there is no one here. Only a med-kit.

It's odd. I remember finding the woman there. But I remember finding her alive. I also remember finding wretched ghoulish old hag instead of the woman. I also remember finding the woman's corpse instead of her. All the while, I remember quite clearly that the only thing past the wall was a mess-kit.

So I climb the wall again and return to the crew member. The manic balding old man is in battle with the crew member. His metal stick is definitely a weapon of sort. Those sorts of pyrotechnics are meant for dealing damage. But at the same time, the crew member is a trained combatant. The crew member strikes the man in the shoulder, then kicks at his legs while he's off balance. Then tries to rip the stick from his hand while he is down. But he won't give up the weapon no matter what. I want to intervene, but I don't know what to do.

"Help me!" The old man shouts to me "We can take it down if we work together!"

I don't necessarily trust the crew, but this guy is off his rocker. If I subdue a crew member, he would kill them while they're down. But I don't know the disposition of the crew. Would they kill the old man if I were to disarm him?

I settle for a neutral option. I reach for a metallic cylinder by a window that looks like a curtain rod (and that may very well be what it was). I hold it front of me threateningly. "Get away from eachother or I'll strike you both down."

The crew member's reaction is hard to judge since I can't see their face. But they lowered their own staff-like weapon when I spoke and the old man was sure that I'd beat up the crew so he backed away eagerly so I could attack.

I did not attack. "Listen, fighting isn't gonna help anyone." I say to the old man. Then I turn to face the crew member. "I'd appreciate if you would speak with us. If you can tell us anything, we'll all be better equipped to help and trust each other."

The crew member nods. And finally I hear it's voice. It clears its throat to speak. The old man's stick slams into the crew member's head. It's helmet spins until it's facing backwards. The body falls to the ground.

In reaction, mostly out of anger despite what I would tell myself, I slam the curtain rod on the head of the old man. He crumpled to the ground (hopefully only knocked out).

The crew member lies on its back, it reaches for its head. It's alive! It's hands grip its helmet, trying to twist it back into place. It's no use. I offer to help but gestures for me to refrain from attempting aid. As it twists the helmet back and forth, something pops and it rolls off. The crew member grabs the helmet and tries to put it back on but the visor is shattered and the mask is only barely attached, dangling like a pendulum.

The crew member groans in annoyance and drops the helmet. She is a woman, younger than the one that used to be here with us. As far as I can tell, she is human like me.

I ask her about what's happening. She seems reluctant to speak but after a long sigh begins to describe the situation. It's a terribly long exposition to give context for what is otherwise an absurd course of action. She speaks English with no discernible accent, much like the rest of the crew members that have sometimes spoken.

Her words are rather poetic and seems rather symbolic as she uses figurative language with comparisons and metaphors describe things that I can't imagine. But I'm having a hard time parsing what she is trying saying. Is she talking about demons? Or monsters? Is there a threat they are protecting against? I can't grasp what she's talking about.

My mind begins to fade as she describes such strange realities. I imagine the many-headed creatures and those with many limbs are of no real comprehensible significance.

What she says makes no sense but at the same time seems all too familiar. Where have I seen these creatures before? When have I lived such realities? Why am I unfazed by being spirited away in such a manner when everyone else became unstable when faced with such struggles?

Then I woke up. Then I knew the answer. I've seen these things in my other dreams, which I did not remember while I was asleep.

I don't do drugs.

I don't know what it's like.

But I'm not always myself.

Space out as hours pass by.

-

I don't use drugs.

For recreation, I mean.

I certainly take medicine,

But I'm otherwise clean.

-

I don't need drugs.

Well, that's kind of a lie.

It's not addiction, it's prescription,

Though I'm not gonna die

-

It's not fair cuz

I'm always asleep.

My eyes may be open,

But I'm lost in a dream.

-

I don't take drugs,

Or things that aren't mine.

But I'll steal a couple Z's.

I'm the dissociative type.

-

I don't swear or cuss,

Though it hurts the rhyme scheme.

I must resist temptation.

Curses rhyme with everything.

-

It's hard to trust others

When you can't trust your mind.

I don't think that you'd deceive me,

But that's not for you to decide.