Joining

Dream-Joining

Wait! No, it couldn?t be possible. But, it was, it was possible and she saw it with her own eyes. And what was worst it was coming towards her. And it looked like a dragon!

She sat up, eyes twitching in anticipation; the room felt hot, almost sweltering. Air blew out of her mouth in rasping breaths. Her skin felt cool and clammy amidst the inferno of the room, as she looked around the cluttered mess, she saw no sign of what she had seen in her dream. The desk sat in its usually corner, piled high with papers and a hockey stick leaned precariously against it, where Alan had put it last night.

There was no dragon in the room, anywhere?but she had seen it, it had been there, right in front of her, looking at her. It?s skin, right by her face, it had been silky soft, though the presence of scales was noticeable on the pristine body. Now, there was only a rustling of the curtains, and a large pile of laundry begging to be washed, right where the dragon had been.

Alan snored softly in his sleep as he rolled over, her muttered something and stopped abruptly to breathe, resulting in another snore. It was strangely comforting, but different from what was in the dream. It felt real, like she had been touching the dragon?s skin in a warm, no, hot place, with sand all around.

There had been a dragon in this room, she glanced down and by her legs was a manuscript, ?What we dream??

* * *

?How did you sleep last night?? she asked quietly of Alan, as he buttered his toast with blackberry jam.

?Oh! Pretty good, as usual, and you??

She looked at him, ?You?re an idiot??

?Ach, what?s this I hear. My precious ears?? Alan mocked. ?Why? Did you have trouble sleeping?? His eyes fell on hers with some concern.

?No, not exactly, it?s just that I?m having these dreams and their starting to get to me. They seem so real that I wake up and can?t get back to sleep, and I don?t know I can get any work on my book.?

?These aren?t the nightmares that you were having last year, are they?? Alan asked serious, knowing what his wife was saying.

?They?re not nightmare, Alan, they?re psychotic dreams, dreams that are so real that they are perceived as real. But this tyme I know they are real, that?s why I can?t get back to sleep, because I?m afraid of what will happen if they continue.?

?I thought lucid dreaming was when you were aware that you were dreaming and could control what you did in the dream.?

?That is lucid dreaming, Alan, but with lucid dreaming it tends to occur in sexual situations and these dream aren?t anything that I can control, and they certainly are not sexual!? she sighed. Alan stared blankly at her and continued eating his toast.

?So, what could be causing this?? he asked curiously.

?I don?t know, it doesn?t seem typical in anyway that a normal person dreams at night.?

?Well, you?re not exactly normal,? Alan laughed, and she lobbed the nearest chair cushion she could find at him. He smiled, ?At least you still have a sense of humour.?

She was laughing at his point. They ate their breakfast, Alan watched the starlings on the lawn scrounge for their breakfast. She sat there watching Alan watch the birds, he wasn?t a scientist, she was, that?s why he didn?t understand and took it all this lightly, even if foolhardy. This concerned her directly and greatly; she wanted to know what was going. That didn?t help her in her frustration now.

* * *

She had the house to herself. Alan had gone off to play basketball with Kirk, so he?d be gone for several hours. The pile of laundry beckoned her from the bedroom, but she couldn?t put off writing anymore. This book took up so much of her tyme.

Her feet brought her to the edge of the desk; ??dreams are the door to the subconscious. It is through the subconscious the basic primal feelings and memories resides, what lies there is only now starting to be understood.? That was all she had. Her life?s work, the dreamworld, and all she had was an old cliché line from some older psychoanalyst.

Alan was out playing games and she was stuck, cramped in an over-indulgent, pseudo-urbanite?s den with a partially started manuscript and a moose head, all while her husband played basketball. Just because he was a high school teacher and didn?t have obligations during the summer didn?t excuse him. She sighed, it was the book and these weird dreams were making her cranky.

One glance around the room and she resigned herself to the work at hand. ?In the dreamworld the possibilities for a person to??

* * *

There in front of her sat the dragon, it?s bluish-green eyes swirled with a pale orange. She felt hungry, weak almost. Funny, didn?t she already eat breakfast?

The golden skin felt smooth under her own rough flesh. A soft melodic hunger croon resounded from the dragon. An impeccable joy overcome her as she was led with the small beast to a room with others who had dragons, there were dragons of all colours, browns, greens, blues, etc, but there was only one golden beast, just hers. She glowed with pride.

??the possibilities for a person to?? she stopped. Her eyes were growing heavy, as she glanced over to the grandfather clock; it was almost two o?clock! It chimed solemnly. She must have dosed off; there were remnants of a dream that she had been in the process of having. As she glanced up at the moose head, she wondered why Alan had bought it in the first place. In a way it was like him, he was the rustic type, which also explained the small collection of hunting knives and rifle, and that small pair of antlers, from the one deer he had caught, but what caught he eyes was how it looked like that dragon that had been in her dream. What?

She thought about it and something occurred to her, Alan and herself were nothing alike, he liked moose head and she didn?t. This book, like her and Alan was very different from what she really wanted and what she was doing. Her eyes fell across the paper she had been writing on, ??the possibilities for a person to?? what was the possibilities for a person? She thought about her dream; the dragon, the heat, the insatiable joy held between her and the glowing beast, she smiled and wrote some more, ??a person to dream what they can?t accomplish in real life. In the dreamworld any person can so become that which they can?t be in the real world, through the mind subconscious state, which allows for extra-sensory thought flow. In other cases, a person can merge their thoughts with someone else?It is entirely within reason to suppose that this is possible with anyone who can control their dream, thus is the concept of Dream-Joining??

The pen stopped, she put it down and stared at the moose head. She pulled out another sheet of paper and started writing. Her pen flew across the paper in liquidy wisps, she had never written so fast.

* * *

Alan walked into the dark house, sweaty and very tired, the only the light in the whole place was in the den, as he walked over to the door the temperature increased ten-fold. He opened the door and there at the desk was his wife, asleep. He smiled. On the desktop was the beginning of a manuscript, he smiled again, she had definitely started that damn thing. As he looked closer, her saw the title, ?A Dragon?s Tale,? by A. McCaffrey, with the ?g? shaped like a dragon?s tail. Thus begins a legend?and the clock struck nine.

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In my traveling through the wourld of Pern I have discovered many things, one thing is that a person can write about the author as well. So, because I fancy Pern so much, and I absolutely adore Anne McCaffrey, I wrote a short fan-fictic about how Pern came about. While it is clealy not even close to the true history, I did this to show my appreciation to anne McCaffrey and all of her other fans out there.

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PAGE CREATED: July 12, 2000
LAST UPDATED: July 12, 2000

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