LOVE LUCID WAR DREAMS - Stories

ID WAR DREAMS - STORIES

  LOVE LUCID WAR DREAMS © 2013 Eugene Kazimierczak

  LOVE LUCID WAR DREAMS - STORIES © 2015 Eugene Kazimierczak

  For more feedback, follow Eugene Kazimierczak (@eugenechuck) on Twitter.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  A TALE OF TWO BROS.

  MINI-JACK INPUT

  MÁS CHRIS

  LOATHING, PLEASE WAIT…

  GODDYSTYLE

  PASSIONATE PASSION FRUIT FRUITION

  INTENSIVE SILENT TREATMENT

  THE TWO TOWELS

  PROLOGUE

  I was stuck between two stages of sleep. Wandering in the dreaming no man's land. I think I was in the Borough. But my hometown isn't by the ocean. I think I was with Her. But my sweetheart's face was rather a feature of every woman I knew. I think I was sitting on the rooftop. But the surroundings were unclear, blurry and uncertain. Then the storm happened. What I am sure is that it was violent and roaring like a war outbreak.

  At first I didn't know, what kind of storm it was. Was it a Martian dust storm? Was it a nuclear explosion?

  "Look at the Bay! The kayaks!", she shouted and I turned my head. I saw enormous consequent waves of water storming the marina. The boats were literally raped in every hole and after one wave felt fulfilled, another, bigger one, was approaching from the depths of the horizon. The ocean was a menace to me. It was showing absolutely no mercy.

  However I was steadily standing on two legs, I wasn't sure what I am dealing with. Like a man, who accidently woke up the power, he couldn't resist. I was too proud to withdrew. We were on the rooftop, so at first glance, I felt completely safe, but quick outbursts of water below proved me wrong. It was only a matter of time, when the waves would destroy the building and the whole Borough would turn into sludge. The nature wanted this area back and desired it very badly. All we could do is wait while being close. I hold her hand strongly. We embraced each other, when the biggest, monsoon, fucking Pacific wave took us into the white blinding spume. We were trapped between water and air.

  Collapsing.

  Terraforming.

  “Breathe.”

  Only without oxygen, we felt alive.

  A TALE OF TWO BROS.

  When you don't sleep you hear echoes of yourself. However, when you sleep, those echoes are vivid. Alive. Lucid.

  Deep pine forest. Bunch of shacks, few with small, still smoldering fireplaces. Complete silence. Thick darkness lightened only by vague moon hidden behind grey clouds. Huge bonfire in the center of this strange camp besmirching surroundings. Inside one of the tents two people speaking in low tone, but with high emotions. Sparks almost literally flying through the roof, only by miracle not burning the whole shack. Dark dense faces looking straight to each other eyes, looming only when the fire outside eats another nutritious pack of brushwood.

  "May I ask nee again, why do you want to kill him?" - grey-bearded tribe elder sitting in the deep chair looked down. Young man was sitting on the ground.

  "He is an obstacle in my career", the unknown speaker answered, "He destroys its validity", he added with confidence.

  "Don't kill him. We may need his… abilities", wise old man sad on reflection.

  "The whole camp is also afraid", he lied.

  "You see, that's the point. Why do they fear?"

  And again, complete silence disrupted only by cracking branches and leaves.

  The whole tale began with the birth of two twin brothers in a village of nomads far away and long ago. In the times when philosophy meant science. In the place where people had other problems than how to differentiate those realms of knowledge. They were fascinated with the realms of ghosts, foggy prophecies and magical cures for everything. It was the twilight of witch doctor's Golden Age.

  Newborns seemed completely normal, two boys swiftly entered and exited their infancy. Their adolescence was unharmed, even innocent for bystanders. Only brothers knew that conflict between was imminent. The twin older by few minutes was the natural leader, he was the one who went on hunting and return with magnificent trophies. He was the Supporter. The younger brother seemed rather off, he preferred to stay with people and people loved when he did that. His charisma was overwhelming and spreading swiftly through the village. When he said, he was saying. When we walked, he was walking. When he slept, nobody dared to interrupt. He dedicated whole self to his activities. He was the Advisor. Not before long the older twin had began suspicions of what his younger brother was dreaming about. Those sphere was beyond his reach. He felt diminished. He feared of being eventually outvoted. He was madly envious.

  "Hey!", the confrontation started on crowded aisle near the center of the village. The standoff has been finally broken.

  "Hi. What's going on?", the younger brother obviously felt that something wasn't right, but his intentions were known so he decided to act naturally.

  Suddenly all nearby eyes were on them. People stopped in their daily duties to watch their daily deities. Up to this moment the harmony between brothers was inviolable. Now everybody felt that the Supporter disturbed the balance of that bond. They stood still, waiting.

  The older twin was uneasy with this situation, he tried to avoid so much attention.

  "What's going on? I'm going on a hunt", he answered with the first bullshit that came to his mind.

  "Good luck, bro", the Advisor didn't want to came from his well known role. He needed to dream this problem through.

  And they split leaving the whole camp with nothing. People one by one reluctantly returned to their chores. Sunset was promising to be bloody red this evening.

  When the Supporter returned from the hunt with nothing, he was desperate. "Is he threatening me? I should eliminate that bastard", he wasn't thinking clearly, but thankfully hold back. He went to tribal grey-bearded for help. After harsh negotiations they figured out that the Advisor should disappear. Where? Into the pit in the Supporter's improvised backyard. Every plan needs to be executed. It wasn't exquisite this time. Nevertheless, the grand scheme remained unharmed. The Advisor still did what he did best - he gave tips to his brother from imprisonment. He correctly presumed that he would have much more power and his authority among fellows would overgrow with legend. In fact, the people searched for him only for one week and the quickly turned to the Supporter. It was easier this way. He gave them food and prosperity, he made all hard decisions. Dreams about aspiring to be something more that any other primal tribe were automatically postponed to the latter generations. That's how every time beginning of the end looks like.

  Over time, the grey-bearded passed away and younger brother begged to be released on the funeral. After all, the mentor of the tribe died. The Advisor felt that he is the Successor. Unfortunately, the Supporter had the same vision.

  "Why won't you let me go? I did what you wanted. You know my secret!"

  "Those blurry lucid dreams?! I'm not even convinced that they exist!", he replied with reproach.

  "But you've experienced it!"

  "Once! And it quickly faded away".

  "Because you want to hasten the whole process. It won't work that way, brother".

  "Say what you want. I am going to the ceremony. See you later, Ain't finished with you!"

  The Advisor knew that going berserk in that moment would only do harm. He did what he did best. Sleep. But within a dream, the subconsciousness played a trick with him. Younger brother unwillingly "invented" OBE and was able to fly to the funeral. The emotions were so dynamic, that he began to lose control and nearly woke up, but his artistry in lucid dreaming showed its strength. He seized distractions and caught up with the Supporter. Then he decided to slip through his head l
ike a pall. It was a feeling compared only with refreshing your face with water in the hangover. The older brother also felt something unusual. A hunch was so strong, that he returned to the pit. All he found was dead body of the Advisor. Another funeral was on its way. Only this time, nobody should know about it. Next day, he quietly dragged the body out from the camp and dug a grave deep in the woods. He felt relieved and returned in inner glory. He died almost thirty years from then. He left nothing. He was a no name for the descendants. That's it.

  Faking death isn't something possible. But the Advisor wasn't dead. He freed himself of body constraints. He became the tribe's silent patron. He was the one responsible for inspiring his fellows to establish the Borough few centuries later. Its Cemetery has been fortuitously erected near the woods, where his twin brother hidden his body. Some veins are just thicker than others. The dreams are our private