Hybird Discussion: if you can read this, you’re special.

This is a locked list with only a couple of people on it.


I didn’t sleep well, and it doesn’t even really feel like I slept at all. I was going back and forth between threatening half-dreams and multiplication tables for the first few hours, and then I was definitely asleep enough to know that I was dreaming. It was not a tenuous hold at all but a solid lucid experience.

In the first “act”, I was interacting with a neighborhood as one would anywhere else. The household I lived in was mildly chaotic, filled with too many people, and I was in the process of moving extra people out. I needed more room, and my stuff wasn’t being taken care of, so I had started packing things for the unruly ones to have to go.

It is common for me to find the hidden staircase behind the fireplace, although sometimes it’s behind a painting or panel. This time it was behind a floor-to-ceiling poster in a bad matte that had been put in front of the fireplace. One of my housemates wanted to show me something that he’d found, and it was a matter of some urgency but not in a threatening way. He wanted to make sure it was safe. He took me up the hidden staircase – kind of a roughly finished passage painted primer white – and in the past, it’s been easy for me to get lost here. There are several hallways that lead off of it, and most often I’ve ended up in the turret attic. This time, we ignored the split to the left and went down a step and then up and over to the left.

This was another attic room, but it was relatively well-appointed. There were wall-hangings and couches and end tables, and it was comfortable without being either trashy or ostentatious. It was a comfortable single-person pad, with all needs met without the desire to “impress”. The housemate showed me this cat that he’d rescued, and he was trying to tell me how important it was that it be kept safe. He was hiding the cat from people or an organization that wanted to lock him up as an alleged danger (or for experimentation).

The cat was large like a lynx or Maine coon, and it had very black almost tiger stripes, but the rest of his fur changed vivid colors, not so much with his mood but just as a habit, kind of like some people fiddle with things in their pockets.

The housemate was very adamant about keeping it a secret, but he also knew that it couldn’t stay there, that staying in one place was potentially dangerous – and this was the first time I got the impression that he was scared of it.

I thought about it for a minute, and I realized that I needed to get the cat being (it wasn’t exactly a cat anymore) to the beach where the atmospheric refraction and interference would allow us to see some kind of important astronomical event through the telescope there.

The cat wasn’t a cat at all anymore. He was a tall lanky boy, looked to be about 19 or 20, with light blonde hair and technicolor eyes, although that wasn’t noticeable unless you were looking for it. He was dressed in jeans and a button-down light plaid work shirt, and it seemed that he had a hat, but I don’t think I saw it directly. He spoke, but I couldn’t tell you exactly what he said… or maybe I should say “he communicated”. The threat to him was that he was an alien or some kind of mutant, and there was an organization that wanted to catch him to “protect the public” but really they wanted to use his abilities for their own gain.

I decided that we needed to be high-profile so that we couldn’t get snatched off of the street without lots of people noticing (at least, I think this was the logic), so I started getting dressed in my pirate gear – just the white shirt (the torn up one I had to throw out finally), the velvet leggings, a belt, my hat, my sandals, and a messenger bag with supplies in it. When he changed (as opposed to “getting dressed”), it was in a very scaled-down approximation of the Captain Jack look (shirt and britches), including that his hair had grown down and dark.

We headed down the street, and it was raining. We stopped into a restaurant called “the Pit” owned by a young Mexican lad named Mungo (his grandfather’s name). Mungo’s father was giving him shit because the kid had bought the restaurant from the father, and it was going down the shitter fast. Somehow it came out that my charge/Other was the one that had given Mungo the money to buy the place – and despite all of the bitching that the father was doing, the place was packed and doing really well, but Mungo was listening to his father instead of using his own eyes. Mungo’s sister was there, and she was covered with tattoos, except that her back wasn’t done yet. The father was giving her shit about that, to which she turned around and cussed him out for forbidding her from seeing her boyfriend, who was the one doing the tattoos in the first place.

When she stormed out, we followed her (it was implied that she was taking us to a safe-house). We ended up at a loft-ish place, and there was her boyfriend and another friend of his and HIS girlfriend. We were trying to figure out where we were going to put the Other when we realized that the girlfriend was really working for the organization, and the Other just made her forget that she knew anything about him – he just kind of shifted reality around her. After that, we went outside to play ball, which mainly consisted of throwing a variety of balls (footballs, soccer balls, basketballs, etc.) in a number of directions and chasing after them, just for the sheer joy of it. Somewhere in there, all of us playing were wearing mermaid suits, and this was important because “it was going to start raining, and we needed to be able to swim”. I told the Other that this wasn’t the kind of swimming gear we’d need.

That’s when we noticed some people from the organization running towards us, and we ran back to the loft. We passed by an angry blonde man in a car with dark glasses – almost “Incredibles” style illustrated, though. He was pissy and angry and controlling and unpleasant. The Other said he was a mogul.

We got back to the loft, and then who appeared to be the tattooed girl’s father showed up – except it was one of the men from the organization, very poorly made up too Mexican, and it was hard to tell who was the most offended. He admitted it when we called him on it, and he tried to talk to the Other directly, to convince him to come into the company.

The Other got very serious, and said, “Now I have to be the Mogul. I didn’t want to.” And he turned into an approximation of the angry man we’d passed. The thing was, that guy had been wearing dark glasses, and when I looked behind the glasses on the Other, there were no eyes behind it. He was seriously about to cause a massive amount of death and destruction, just to be left alone, but I held his hand and told him that he didn’t have to do that, that there were other ways to deal with it. I told him that I wasn’t afraid of him and that we’d find a better way to keep everyone safe. That’s when I realized that he hadn’t been in the attic to keep him safe – it was to keep everyone else safe from him until he knew how to play well with others.

If you made it that far, what do you think? I tend to think it’s pretty straight-forward.

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