multiversallogs | stars shinin' right abooooove you

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stars shinin' right abooooove you

Who: Marty and Felicia
What: A witch and a sorcerer hang out in dreamworld.
Where: MARTY'S BRAIN.
When: Nighttime
Notes: You know you're screwed when this guy knows more about this dream walking stuff than you do :V
Warnings: IMPLIED DREAM NUDITY. And heavy drinking.

Marty's not an anxious person by nature, but sometimes it gets him. Contrary to his appearance, the way he carries himself on the Network, he's starting to get a little... just a touch concerned about his future. The acting job doesn't pay much, some muggers made off with his spoils from the all-out monster attack, and he might have gambled most of his start-up money away while under the impression that he was going through a lucky streak. It ended prematurely.

For the most part, he keeps his agitated state under wraps. It's not interesting; nobody needs to see it, and it doesn't jive with his image-- or the image he hopes to have, which is: one cool dude. And anyway... Anyway, he's working on building up his fortunes. It's just a little slump, that's all, nothing he hasn't been through before. Once he gets on the gods' good sides, he'll be set.

Yeah.

Just. Be patient.

Be patient.

That's his mantra as he stumbles, consciousness fading in and out, out of the Apache.

Patient patient patient.

The word makes less sense the more he repeats it. It becomes gibberish, some slurred-together noise that, unknowingly, leaves his mouth as he falls back against a nearby wall and shoots a half-assed glare at the bar. Fuckers wouldn't let him take his last drink to go. Like it's their responsibility to make sure he doesn't end up dead in a gutter somewhere. Whatever.

He closes his eyes, unsure of how much time passes before he opens them again. It feels like an eternity, like he's time travelling. He does it again, imagines he's jumped forward a few hours-- maybe he does, in a way. He blinks, turns his head to look at the bar, shoots it the finger, and starts back towards the inn. All he's gotta do is make it back. That's it.

The walk seems to take forever. The distance just keeps stretching on and on, or maybe he's just really fucking drunk. Who knows (no, it's the latter, anyone can tell).

Still. He's patient. He makes it back to the inn, somehow, closes his eyes, opens them, and bam. It's like he's just teleported into his bed. Like fucking magic.

(Or he zoned out for a few moments while somebody on staff helped him to his room.)

See, that walk wasn't so bad. Everything worked itself out. It always does for Marty Williams.

He just has to be patient.

"What time is it?" he murmurs before finally blacking out for the night-- or what remains of it.

The next thing he knows, there are lights on him, all around. People are talking, but he can't really make them out. Nothing but a crowd of silhouettes, thanks to the spotlights hitting him. Marty squints, trying to make out some faces, but then he feels a breeze and looks down.

What the hell is he doing in a woman's silk robe, and why are instructions being barked at him in some language he can't quite make out? A bulb flashes and he looks up again. Is that... a camera?

Wait.

He's naked under this robe, isn't he.

Marty may be a shameless bastard, but there's one thing he can't do: nudity and cameras.

Talk about a cliched anxiety dream. A shame he doesn't know that's what's going on yet. No, instead he's standing there, clutching the kimono-or-whatever-it-is close to his body, certain that his penis is going to fall off if he opens it.

Shit shit shit. He's gotta get out of here.

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She's starting to recognize when she's unintentionally gone into a dream. It's still difficult to tell whether it's her dream or one belonging to someone else, but she definitely knows that this isn't real. Mainly because there's a guy in a woman's robe and he's probably naked underneath it and the last thing Felicia is interested in is penis. Any penis. Not even Marty's penis. Actually, especially his.

Felicia's leaning against the bare wall of the room, dressed in piggy printed pajamas pants and a plain white tank top, looking exactly the same as she went to bed in the real world. The only things missing are her socks and slippers, but who needs those in an audition room where one of her clients is butt naked in front of a camera and two old white guys are yelling directions at him? For all she know, he's auditioning for a porno. If he is, though, Felicia's pretty sure he just didn't get the part.

This isn't his worst nightmare, not by far, but it's bad enough that it actually manages to mortify him, despite what a difficult feat that is. Why does his dick have to be so... so camera shy? He quickly looks around for some pants, willing to take anything, even if they're booty shorts. This being a dream, a pair of running pants just happens to be draped over a nearby chair, and when he goes for them, the crowd of cameras (well, it feels like a crowd to him) follow, shouting what he's certain now to be French-- but not like French French. This is like Babelfish French. Hey, he remembers enough of his high school French classes to pick up on the fact that, while familiar, these words are all wrong and awkwardly jammed together.

It's a challenge to yank his newfound pants up without his junk flopping out of the robe, but he manages, thankfully, and as soon as those pants are on, the old men cluck their tongues disapprovingly and move on to their next victim, who seems to take direction far better than Marty.

Well, the show must go on. Whatever the show is.

Marty uses this opening to make his escape. Rushing past Felicia-- he barely even registers her presence-- he makes for some double doors and pushes them open, only to come face to face with... a wall of water.

Oh, they're in the ocean.

To Marty, this makes perfect sense. He slams the doors shut and turns to Felicia, now staring at her long enough for the familiarity to click. He leans closer to her and points at the door, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Hey. Hey. I can't go out without an umbrella."

Boy will his face be red once he realizes this is like those dream invasions his sister used to do all the time.

Edited 2012-03-28 02:18 (UTC)

Felicia took Spanish and barely passed it. She can't help Marty decode whatever those people are yelling at him. She can, however, tell they are pissed he wasted their time. Must be an everyday thing with him.

"An umbrella isn't going to help you with the ocean, Marty," she replies flatly. She kind of wants this dream to last a little longer. It's definitely less emotionally draining and painful than some of the other dreams she's poked around in. She'll probably still be sick when she wakes up afterwards, but maybe it'll be worth it this time.

One of the other actors... people, whatever they are, walks by Felicia and Marty and hands him a little toy boat. Bright red and yellow plastic just shoved into his hands. It's just a stupid bath toy, but the girl is finishing Felicia's explanation. Good job, dream girl.

Marty scoffs, then chuckles at Felicia's obvious naivete. "Uh, yeah, okay. Umbrellas keep the water off," he remarks with a smirk, as if that explains everything. Marty's right, Felicia's wrong. End of-- why is there a boat in his hands? He looks at the dream girl, trying to follow along, but soon her words melt into garbled nonsense as he stops paying attention. Still, he grins enthusiastically and nods. "I have no idea what she just said," he confides to Felicia, still looking at the actress.

"Are you here for an audition?" he asks, finally moving his eyes to Felicia again. "Because I think that lady just scored the part," he adds, pointing past her to one of the performers in the center of the room. There's some fire juggling going on while wearing half of a two-person horse costume. Alright then.

Edited 2012-03-28 03:33 (UTC)

"She said you'll need a boat." Not that Felicia understood anything anybody said. She just assumed that by the girl's actions. Or, you know, by using common sense, something Marty seems to be lacking in and out of dreams.

She's wondering if she should tell him it's a dream and she's just here because it's one or if it's better to not disturb the balance of the dreamworld. There are rules Felicia needs to consider but doing anything but staring at the woman Marty points out is out of the question.

Turning back to him, she gives him a weary look. "I thought you were auditioning for a porno."

"No way," he responds, shaking his head. This isn't a porno, come on. It's plainly obvious to, well, only Marty, since this is his subconscious and all. He had simply been naked because the dream called for it. "Just a scene. Soft focus, dim lighting, the works."

He looks back at Felicia after noting that the juggling woman bears a strange resemblance to his sister.

"So what're you here for?"

"Sounds like the set up for a porno to me." Or a love scene, at the very least, but Felicia's not here to nitpick, only to laugh at Marty's subconscious.

"Just hanging out," she shrugs. She can't exactly tell him why she's in his dream, only because she's still out of the loop about it being his dream and not hers. Felicia could tell him that it's just a dream, but where's the fun in that.

If Marty were a more lucid dreamer, he'd note that Felicia's totally not dressed for his dream and therefore doesn't belong. An alarm would sound going "Intruder alert, intruder alert!" and he'd notice something's up.

As it is, he's not much of a lucid dreamer. Usually, something big has to happen for him to realize he's dreaming. Some monster going after him, an angry mob, a horror movie stalker-- basically, anything that threatens his "life" while he's asleep. That's when things usually click into place and he starts to gain some awareness. Right now, there's no danger, so there's no lucidity. He just holds the boat up.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go sailing before they try to take my pants off again. You coming?"

It doesn't really matter what her answer is, because that declaration causes a scene change. Suddenly, just like that, they're in a sailboat, slowly rocking along the waves.

Good thing there aren't any sea monsters about. (Yet.)

"Full disclosure," he says as he pulls on some rope that does... something. "I've never gone sailing before."

They're so going to dream-die.

"What do you mean you've never gone sailing before?" Neither has she, but she feels like if this dream is about boats and oceans, Marty should be the one knowing about sailing. "You're going to get us killed!"

Sometimes, Felicia wishes she could control dreams. This is one of those times, because that rope he pulled just yanked down the sails all around them.

Yep. Definitely dream-dying.

"I mean--" And there go the sails, "--this is the first time I've ever been in a boat." He surveys his work, hands on his hips. Yeah, looks good. Ignore that rumbling from the deep, which the boat can now no longer escape from since they're, effectively, dead in the water. "Can't be that hard. I mean, like, people were sailing back when everything was all BC." Surely, a modern man like Marty Williams can handle it, no problem!

The rumbling gets louder, practically drowning out whatever Marty says next. Don't worry, Felicia, it was probably something stupid. And besides, the giant tentacle snaking out from the water is probably more important than whatever Marty has to say. It lands with a thick, wet thud on the deck, just behind Marty. He seems utterly and completely oblivious to it.

"And are they still around? Nope. Because they sunk and drowned."

Felicia doesn't know why she's getting so riled up about this. Maybe it's because Marty is a dumbass and it's more frustration than fear about dying. It's a dream, anyway. They die, they wake up. No big deal.

Except that dying in a dream is still very much terrifying and death by whatever owns a giant tentacle is probably subconsciously painful. "Marty, behind you!"

"We won't drown," he shrugs as another two tentacles coil themselves around the ship's railing, working to hoist up their owner. Something that looks like a lantern rises up out of the water, illuminating the deck. "It's not like Jaws is gonna-- what?"

He turns to look at whatever it is that's got Felicia riled up, but rather than take notice of the tentacles, his eyes go straight for the lantern bobbing out of the sea.

How whimsical! Felicia's a pal for pointing it out to him.

"Hey, thanks. That's pretty. The sea's a pretty cool place," he grins, turning back to Felicia just as a giant angler fish's head bobs up and emits a hiss that he's pretty sure isn't scientifically possible. More tentacles coil around the ship as the monster tries to pull it into its gaping maw. The hiss catches Marty's attention before the all-out assault does, and he lets out a yelp and wraps his arms around the mast to keep himself steady.

"This boat is too big for your mouth, asshole!" he shouts at the fish... squid... thing. Negotiation: works so much better than a gun, which, wouldn't you know, Marty suddenly has.

He fires his newfound six-shooter at the sea monster, each bullet missing its target at first. It only seems to piss the angler squidfish off more, and the fish yanks on the boat with renewed purpose.

"Redo, redo, come on!" he cries as he smacks the gun against his palm. Somehow, it seems to be reloaded as if on cue.

Marty fires again. This time, the bullets land where they're supposed to. With a shriek, the monster uncoils itself and starts to make its retreat-- not because the bullets hurt it that much, but because Marty's finally taking more control over the dream. Slowly, but surely, it's becoming lucid. It has to be, because he's nowhere near badass enough in real life to fight off a mutant angler fish.

Edited 2012-03-31 13:05 (UTC)

Felicia is at a complete loss for words. Can she wake up now? This has gone on for too long and has gone from amusing to outright silly. They're not in danger of being fish food anymore, but they're still stuck on a useless boat, with a useless actor steering it, and she doesn't even have shoes on.

With her face in her hands, she starts laughing uncontrollably because this... this is just ridiculous.

Edited 2012-03-31 17:10 (UTC)

He watches the fish monster retreat, then shrugs and tosses the gun into the sea where it belongs. The fish shouldn't return, anyway, since he doesn't want it to. Marty runs a hand through his hair, more aware now that he is, in fact, sleeping, and can thus basically do whatever he wants, provided his subconscious decides to actually listen to him.

Of course, that does leave one matter of confusion. The laughter reminds him that Felicia's still here, and he looks at her again, brow arched.

"Why are you here again?" he asks for a second time in... however long it's been (Kind of hard to tell time when one's asleep), only this time he sounds more grounded in reality, less floating in dream whimsy. The idea that Felicia's an intruder is starting to sink in. It's not that he immediately suspects it, but this all feels familiar in some capacity.

Besides, if he was dreaming her up, she'd be dressed very differently.

She continues laughing because Felicia knows she's busted now. It's just a feeling she has, like something is surrounding her and it doesn't want her here. No matter how hard she tries to "leave", she can't. It dawns on her than it's his dream, not hers and she can't leave just willingly like she could if she entered it on purpose. He has to wake up so they can go back to their respective subconsciousness and she can pretend none of this ever happened.

Sliding her hands down into her lap, Felicia finally stops laughing and puts on a neutral expression on her face, head cocked to the side. If there's any time to see if she could tinker with somebody's dream, it's not. "You should wake up now."

"If it was that easy, I'd have done it when the old guy with the clipboard wanted to see my junk," he points out. Because if there's ever a time to wake up, it's during a naked dream. Of course, if she just pushed him overboard, that'd probably do the trick. Maybe. Who knows when it comes to dreams. "No. I know..." He waves a hand. "This. It's happened before."

Not with Felicia, but with somebody far more familiar to him. Above them, the clouds begin to part, making way for some sunlight. Around them, the sea begins to calm down.

Marty moves over to Felicia to give her a good poke on the shoulder. "This is fucked up, you know"

Okay, well, tinkering with somebody's dream was a complete failure. Her skills clearly need to level up a lot before she tries that again.

She shrugs and looks around at the now calm sea, wondering what's next, until Marty comes and interrupts her thinking with his finger in her arm. "Why are you poking me?"

"To see if, I dunno," he shrugs, "you're really here?" As if that makes any sense. It's a dream, and unless she's a dream ghost, of course he'd be able to touch her. "You remind me of someone."

In the distance, there's land. It seems that even with the sail down and the water calm, they're drifting toward it anyway. Ah, the power of dreams.

"That's probably why I'm dreaming about you. Some kinda fucked up Freudain word association game, right?" He turns away and moves to the bow of the boat. "What do you think's over there?" For now, the closer they get to the land, the sketchier it looks, like it's an incomplete thought.

That finger of his gets slapped away while Felicia's face has an expression that probably reads that she doesn't like being poked very much. At least he's figured that it's a dream, but she still gets the feeling she doesn't belong which makes sense. It's his head, not hers.

The water only stays calm until a dolphin floats by, clicking and nudging the boat until it rocks gently. It's clear the dolphin means no harm, so Felicia leans over and pats it on the head. "Of who?"

She's not going to ask what the hell he is talking about Freud for, but her attention is drawn to the land and Felicia is wondering why can't his brain make anything nice.

He laughs a little when she slaps his finger away. All right, then. Definitely corporeal, like that makes... any difference at all. He's still not sure why exactly all of this feels familiar-- without his sister as a sort of grounding presence, he's still not entirely lucid.

"I dunno. Someone." That's not vague at all. Marty squints upwards as the sky gets brighter. In the real world, he's stirring, but consciousness hasn't quite arrived yet. "Man. I hope you're not supposed to represent my mom or something. With that whole..." He makes a vague hand motion. "Naked thing from earlier. It would just be too fucked up."

Speaking of fucked up, a few fish float on past the boat, wings lazily flapping as they hover at about eye-level. Marty doesn't seem to notice them yet, and they seem harmless enough. Just your average flying fish.

As they approach the island, it's as if a string is pulled, and they begin to unravel.

"I hope I'm not supposed to represent your mother with anything right now," Felicia replies, looking like the idea being Marty's mother is enough to throw herself overboard. "Also, I am trying to forget I saw any penis, so stop bringing it up."

Flying fish? She's seen stranger in dreams. Nothing is fazing her right now except that they're getting closer to the island and the clouds are beginning to darken. "Is this a recurring dream? Because I want to know what happens next."

"Hey. This?" He motions to, well, his thankfully covered junk. "All this? Is unforgettable. Or so I've been told." He's never been told that. "You're stuck with the memory for life."

Deal with it.

Marty ruffles his hair and looks up at the sky again, then to the island. "And yeah. I think I've had this dream before. But I don't know what happens next, because I always wake up."

Mainly because what comes next is a hideous dream-death of being unraveled. He just always forgets that part.

"No, you were lied to." Seriously, Marty. Stop filling her subconscious with such horrors. Being here in the boat that's unraveling like a cheap Christmas sweater is bad enough.

"Um, dude... what the fuck?" Felicia's pointing to the head of the boat that's rapidly disappearing before their eyes.

"Huh?" His eyes follow her finger, and it takes Marty a few beats to realize what, exactly, is going on here. Well, shit. "Uhhh..."

He backs up from the rapidly deteriorating section of the boat. This feels entirely too familiar, all of it. What happens now? What does he usually do?

"Jump!" he yelps, throwing himself overboard. If he were a more considerate person, he'd grab Felicia and hurl her over with him. As it is, he figures she can take the leap herself.

He hits the sea with a splash, his eyes opening suddenly as he awakens covered in sweat.

And.

Why is he half-hanging off the bed?

And why is he thinking about the girl who did makeup for him?

While he splashes around, Felicia's waking up covered in sweat and nauseous as ever. It's the usual after-dreamwalking effects, but as she trudges to the bathroom, she hopes Marty is the kind of guy who forgets his dreams because all Felicia needs now is another person saying they dreamt about her.

Anyway, she's just going to lie here on the ground until the room and her stomach stops spinning, thank you very much. This shit has gotten old a long time ago.

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stars shinin' right abooooove you

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sad fact: most of this garbage is based on dreams I've had :CCCC

stop eating tacos before bed, ros lol

NEVER

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