I was walking around Marquette at sunset in the summer with other people. One was a woman named Kira, then there was a man. There were actually a lot more people inside of me because they were disembodied einherjar, the spirits of warriors chosen by a Valkyrie that hadn’t yet been taken to Valhalla (obviously a Valkyrie Profile 2 reference, as is much of the dream).
We walked together, Kira, the man and I, and we came across a great purple whale that had just been defeated, lying kind of in the road. The street wasn’t there as clearly as it would usually be, but when we walked up to it, a little signal popped up in my vision that said “Split… X” meaning, to split the whale, press the X button. I told the others that we could split the whale and perhaps there would be some kind of treasure within it. The man drew his sword and slashed the whale all the way up.
The top part rolled away and dissipated, and inside the whale, without any sort of consideration for anatomy or organs were loads of weapons. A bow was wedged somewhere in the tail area, and I pulled it out and handed it to a blond archer woman who vanished within me again. There were wands too, some of which were really pretty, and I commented on how pretty it was and hoped it would stay that way so I could see it in action later. I distributed weapons as well as I could, giving Kira her preferred rapier and the man a more sturdy slashing greatsword, and there were also engraved daggers, who seemed to be notes for whom it was more convenient to be daggers.
One said “complete without help from Kira,” and then had a sort of experience bonus mentioned. There were two for Kira and one for the man with the sword. I didn’t know what missions they meant, but I figured they were to be used in battles where I could choose to tell different people to not fight, like in Rogue Galaxy (another PS2 game). I wasn’t sure what weapon I would use, because I wasn’t sure about my own weapons proficiency. I collected the weapons we couldn’t use now so I could later sell them.
Then Kira shouted something and I turned. Gleachel stood on the sidewalk, a skull in his hand. I knew it was a skull we needed to complete a puzzle, a sort of key. It didn’t quite look like a human skull, more like a proto-human. Gleachel is the villain in my fantasy stories. He’s a fire Witch, and the sunset sky burned for him. His hair was brilliant crimson. He dropped the jawbone of the skull and reached down to get it. I looked down at the weapons I had and picked a short sword that looked like a letter opener I once had. It was pretty crude, but seemed strong, dropping the rest, I jabbed at his hand, piercing its back with my weapon. He looked at his hand in disbelief, and I did as well. Gleachel in the stories is supposed to have blood like liquid fire, but his blood did not burn.
He lifted his sword against me, and I swung at his sword, breaking off the tip, and swung again, severing the blade from the hilt. He dropped the sword, and seemed ready to cast a spell, but I slashed across his arm. He offered the skull to me, and I took it. Two molars fell from it and skittered on the sidewalk. He reached down to them, picking one up and lifting it to me, still bowed over. I took it and stared at his blood on it and my fingers, not understanding why his blood did not burn.
It seems like we had a discussion, but we could feel the other’s feelings, and he knew how deeply I regretted hurting him, regretting that he was my enemy. He backed away, and I awkwardly tried to carry the sword, the skull and jaw as well as pick up the other weapons I’d dropped to attack Gleachel. I backed away, and he climbed into an old beaten up pick up truck and pulled out of the parking lot we were next to while I backed toward the direction of my house. Somehow I knew Gleachel would be coming to dinner as if we hadn’t just fought one another, perhaps something about secret identities. I crossed the street and turned back around, trying to wave to him, but he seemed determined not to look at me.
I thought, “I really should somehow bring elements of present time into some of my stories. No one would ever think Gleachel would drive an old beat up pick up.” Gleachel would have to turn a corner to leave my eyesight, but there were too many cars for him to turn. I began to cross a driveway, but stopped because another pick up was pulling into that driveway, a white one with two men in it. I kind of motioned for them to go, and turned back to Gleachel, who was still waiting to turn. The pick up driver waved for me to go, and I ducked my head and ran, not looking back to Gleachel who probably still ignored me. I went to my apartment, now alone, and went up the stairs, depositing the weapons in a closet.
The apartment wasn’t my own. There were more rooms to it, and my aunt and cousins were there. My cousin Rachel had a high fever, and when they had given her children’s Tylenol, she started crying like an infant. “This again!” Kayla said, and covered her ears. My aunt was sitting next to the bed where Rachel lay thrashing about on the mattress. I thought that even though Rachel was sick, I couldn’t just call Gleachel and cancel dinner because then he might think the cancellation was because of our fight. I also thought Rachel was somehow faking the baby cry because children’s Tylenol having that effect just didn’t make sense. All the while, I held a heavy sorrow in my heart about Gleachel.
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