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  • #352
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      If Tina hadn’t hung up the phone so fast, Becky mumbled to herself, I could have told her I was with Sam, and she could say hello to him herself. And I could have asked her to come over and help me try to get some rice water down him.

      So far he’d refused, asking instead for flowers and sweets. Delirious, Becky suspected, and running a fever. And still scribbling all that jibberish!

      #351
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Tina had a wonderful night of dreams. In fact it was the first time in ages that her dreams had been happy. Usually in her dreams she did not feel any emotion much.

        The phone rang. It was Becky, although for a moment she thought it was her friend Docky, their voices sounded so similar.

        I am fine she told Becky, I am so sorry to hear Sam is sick, give him my love when you see him

        Tina chuckled to herself, remembering how last time she was sick Becky had bought over this big pot of nettle soup for her…

        Really though, she was so grateful for her friends. Al seemed a bit worried about her at the moment, but then he was such a worry wort, she thought fondly.

        #350
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Becky was worried about Sam. He’d been feverishly writing and scribbling jibberish ever since she’d arrived with the rice water (in between frequent visits to the loo, and even then he took his new sketchpad and three pencils with him..what inspiration he found in the bathroom, Becky didn’t like to ponder).

          #345
          AvatarJib
          Participant

            Sam was quite pleased actually to be so unwell, it was giving him an excuse not to go out in the newly flooded city… it was quite unusual and sudden, and he was also quite pleased that the flood was just stopping at the first floor ;))

            Well he had news from Becky who wanted to come here and bring him some flowers and sweets. And he realized that he himself hadn’t their phone numbers… he’ll have to ask his friends.

            The bell!!! :-O

            :yahoo_time_out:

            Becky was already here!? He was still in pajamas, Foo’kin gondolas, so much faster than the cabs…

            #344
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Becky waited patiently at the doorstep on the third floor of her apartment building, trying to hail a gondola cab. The canvas bag over her shoulder was heavy. In it she had a thermos flask of rice water and poppy heads for her friend Sam, who had telephoned her with the news that he was unwell.

              While she waited, she wondered about Tina and Al. They hadn’t said anything, but Becky sensed there were some issues bubbling under the surface. Tina’s strange behaviour when she answered the phone; Al’s uncharacteristically rude discounting of the outing she’d planned for them all….well! They will soon bounce back, Becky thought, If there’s anything I can do, I’m sure they’ll ask. Meanwhile, Becky chanted the mantra, It Matter’s Not; Everything Is Perfect…..

              #336

              Hi Torsten, said Tina, giving her old friend a hug. Thanks for calling and saying you had some time to chat, hope I didn’t sound odd when I answered the phone, Becky was there, and I didn’t want to tell her. I am trying to pretend I am normal you see, she laughed wryly.

              I really need someone who isn’t involved with the play to talk to though, I feel like I am going a bit weirdo, bottling everything up. And it is affecting the play and my relationship with the others.

              I can’t find my place in the play the others are writing. See it is the play “the others are writing”. I feel as though I am drifting through it, trying to find my way amidst the structure, if you can call it structure, they give it. And that is the way I am feeling about life, I can’t find my place in it

              At the moment I claim to believe in magic, and that I create my own reality, but I certainly don’t feel it the last few days. She thought for a moment. Well other days recently have been golden, it is all magic. I find it everywhere. Yes, I have had days like that, but the last week or so I can’t find it.

              What changed?

              I felt as though I couldn’t create what I wanted to.

              What if you could?

              All of it? It would be a miracle though. My rational mind tells me it is not possible. And in that lies the source of this pain.

              So you don’t believe what you claim to believe

              Tina thought for a moment. I keep feeling the eyes of that Blue Mule character I told you we created on me. That’s not his name, but I keep getting stuck on the spelling . Well actually I didn’t create him. The others keep creating new characters, every time someone does a typo, it is “hey! new character!” Anyway this was ages ago. And in the play there was a picture that one of the characters, Quintin, did, and whenever I say “I can’t”, then I feel these eyes of Blue Mule challenging me, and it’s like he’s saying, “ well what DO you believe then?” and it is like a real challenge in these eyes.

              #334
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                …..it’s just that it does sound rather simplistic, I mean ……Tina frowned at the script.

                Well, it depends doesn’t it, Becky replied. As it’s a fictional recreational piece of performance art, certainly it wants a few complications, a few twists, a few riddles…..

                The phone rang, interrupting Becky’s rambling. Tina rather rudely snatched the phone just as Becky was about to answer it, suddenly seeming to be a bit breathless and pink in the cheeks.

                Just then a garbage truck came to a grindingly noisy halt outside and Becky was unable to eavesdrop on Tina’s oddly furtive conversation.

                #331

                Becky was wondering what on earth Finn was on about. Gentle bemused and perplexed voice? Well, fair play to her, thought Becky, if she can here typewriting on a computer screen as bemused gentle voices, she’s a better man than I , Gunga Din……

                #329

                Becky wondered why Finn kept calling her Dory. It didn’t matter though, it was always fun chatting with Fiona (or Finn as she now liked to be called), and Finn was always calling her different names. Becky rather liked it.

                The thing is, Finn, Dory tapped into the keboard, when they’d finished laughing, As everyone knows, There Are No Secrets.

                finn_tastic57: HHMMM :yahoo_thinking:

                becdorsansilli: :yahoo_at_wits_end:

                finn_tastic57: This is a clue, you know. We should be able to just ‘know’, you know, just access the info :yahoo_idk:

                becdorsansilli: I wonder if these whispers are secret?

                finn_tastic57: I guess the group admin can access them

                becdorsansilli: well
                becdorsansilli: we wil go public to save him a possible moral dilemma :yahoo_rofl:

                Becky was even calling herself Dory now, she noticed. That Finn was a bad influence.

                #322

                The thing is, Dory, George was speaking gently, but was looking pointedly into her eyes as he spoke, the thing is that nobody ever needs any help, as you are accustomed to think of it.

                Do you like that line, Tina? Becky asked in a bemused way.

                Tina reflected. Well I like the fact that he speaks in a gentle voice like me. Her voice trailed off. However, it’s just that it does sound rather simplistic, I mean …..

                Oh thank god, the phone is ringing, I have created help so I won’t have to finish what I started to say.

                #321

                — Daddy, daddy! I want to come with you!

                Young Peregrine had been running after his father at the moment when he had put the letter in his pocket ready to go off the streets.

                — Oh, really? Sean Doran Wrick was weighing the possibilities.

                Peregrine was still in fluffy rabbit slippers and pajamas, but he had a very determined look on his young face.

                — Then perhaps we should ask Guinevere to come with us too?
                — OK, I go ask her!

                And off was Peregrine, running down the hall of the large Dublin apartment to his sister’s room.

                Sean was thoughtful… Well, Edmund had said that the private jet would be ready in an hour, so that was leaving him some time to have a nice beer at the pub before departing to New York to see the Traveling Reality Amusement Park, or T.R.A.P. for short, as the imaginative publicists of his father’s company had decided to brand the new revolutionary concept.

                Sean had been supervising the very first prototype before he had met Margaret, and then had got more interested in his “real” family life than in amusement travels in fairy lands… But nonetheless his father had trusted his flair, and had kept him informed of the developments of the project.
                Now, for the premiere of the T.R.A.P., he’d got some VIP invitations, but grieved with Margaret’s death, he had not wanted to go there at all. That is, until Becky had spoken about it…

                Peregrine came back with a pout on his face.
                — She’s not sure if she wants to come, he said…
                — Oh well. Then, let me have my beer, and I come back in a few minutes to see if you and your sister are ready. I’ll pick up whomever is ready and packed up.
                — Yipeeee! Peregrine’s eyes were gleaming with joy.

                #320
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Sean put the letter in his pocket. Perhaps a trip to the Amusement Park wasn’t such a bad idea. He always enjoyed Becky’s company, and he was curious about dear old Al. Becky’s postscript hadn’t made a great deal of sense, but then, Becky was a bit like that. The truth of it was, he needed a break.

                  Sean wondered if Tina would be there. He remembered their brief meeting, and how he’d been struck by her sweet voice. And Sam, dear funny Sam!

                  Sean put his hat on, and walked out into the clammy Irish drizzle. A pint of guinness in The Dunloughpadraisobahairiedunkennyloughaire Arms to celebrate, I think! He patted the letter in his pocket and smiled for the first time in months.

                  #319
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    “…..waves of nostalgia and familiarity and deja vu” typed Becky for the third time. PPfft, deja vu indeed.

                    #315
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Becky hit send again, and chuckled to herself. This will boost the comments tally at any rate.

                      #313
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        Becky wasn’t taking any chances.

                        #311
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Becky sat there horrified. Her computer had crashed before she could save her lengthy entry to the plays script.

                          #309
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            Wow that is so kind of Becky to organise an outing for us all. What a sweetie pooh she is! To be honest, I have been a bit worried about her, she has been acting so weird lately, almost scarey violent at times and yesterday she was going on about needing to get ahead, and not being heard, or that she was head, or something…. actually I could not really follow. Al, maybe you could try sounding a bit more grateful for all her hard work organising this fun outing, said Tina, sweetly.

                            #303

                            Becky woke up in a sweat. Her bedclothes were tangled and what remained of her pillow was on the floor. The room was full of downy feathers.

                            Sheesh, said Becky, pushing sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes and reaching for her cigarettes.

                            What a dream! Wow, I wonder what that witch did to deserve that! Becky couldn’t quite believe she’d had such a violently aggressive dream. All she could really remember was attacking a witch, and slapping her repeatedly, and punching her, screaming all the while DON’T…EVER….DO THAT AGAIN Wangwangawanga…… DON’T DO IT wangawanga… then the witch had turned into a goose, but still Becky kept punching her, causing the poor gooses feathers to fly everywhere, and all the while Becky kept shouting WANGAWANGAWANGA……

                            I can’t believe I did that, even in a dream! Becky hated violence so much that she walked out of the room if a violent scene was showing on the television, and she loved witches and geese.

                            That poor goose! Becky decided to go back into the dream, to smooth what was left of the gooses ruffled feathers, and apologize.

                            She stubbed out her cigarette, and settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Now the goose was looking at her reproachfully, in between straightening her plumage, and huffing and tutting a bit.

                            I’m awfully sorry about that! I don’t know why I did it. Becky hoped it was a forgiving kind of goose, and not a vengeful one.

                            It matters not, I suppose, grumbled the goose, I must have created being slapped around by a sweaty madwoman, though gawd knows why.

                            Were you a witch in another focus? Becky asked. Because I was angry with a witch initially, not a big white goose and I don’t know how I came to be pummeling you. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I was attacking the witch either. The witch did look unpleasant though, but you look nice enough….

                            Well I don’t look very blimmen nice with my feathers in this state, dearie! And don’t remind me of that dratted witch focus, gawd, I was horrid. Not surprised you lashed out at that one!

                            Becky started to relax. Things were looking promising. The goose was turning out to be rather sweet.

                            But as you can see, continued the goose, I am not a witch, I am a big white goose now, a rather sweet one too, even if I do say so myself, so let’s hear no more about it.

                            Becky smiled broadly at the goose. I appreciate that very much! Oh by the way…what’s your name?

                            Angela, answered the goose, Angela Wing.

                            REALLY? Becky said, rather rudely, and then caught herself and said: Angela! What a lovely name! Angela Wing, would you like to be in our play?

                            #298

                            The City, year 2257

                            Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

                            Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
                            They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
                            Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

                            Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

                            Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
                            She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

                            ~~~

                            Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
                            — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
                            — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
                            — Ahahah, yes!

                            Al started again to moan:
                            — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

                            (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

                            Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
                            — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
                            Becky nodded
                            — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
                            — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

                            ~~~

                            While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
                            A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
                            — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
                            Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
                            — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

                            — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
                            — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
                            — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
                            Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

                            So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

                            — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
                            — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
                            Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

                            Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

                            Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
                            — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
                            — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
                            Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
                            Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
                            — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
                            TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

                            Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
                            — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
                            — Yes, absolutely
                            — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
                            — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
                            — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

                            Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
                            — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
                            — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
                            — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

                            Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
                            AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
                            Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
                            Then she added:

                            Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
                            — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
                            — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
                            — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
                            Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

                            Now, Janice was hooked:
                            — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
                            Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
                            — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

                            Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
                            — Around which year? she asked
                            — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
                            — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
                            — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
                            — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
                            — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
                            — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
                            — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
                            — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
                            — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

                            “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
                            — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

                            — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
                            — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

                            They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

                            She then remembered something else:
                            — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
                            … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
                            Date fits again, she said in awe.
                            — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
                            — Hmmm
                            — Hmmm
                            — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
                            — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

                            Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
                            Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
                            Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
                            — “I am not sure about that!”
                            — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
                            — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
                            — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
                            — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
                            — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
                            — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
                            — Bit bossy Princess
                            — Which dynasty?
                            III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
                            — What year?
                            Janice projected the timeline below then said
                            — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

                            They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

                            Rodney was seeing something else
                            — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
                            Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
                            — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
                            — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
                            — Exactly
                            — And they communicated because they are helping each other
                            — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
                            — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
                            — Yes! resulting in confusion!

                            And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

                            #297

                            ……In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.

                            Love,

                            Becky.

                            PS, Becky added as an afterthought in her letter to dear old Wrick, Al’s so looking forward to meeting you in the ‘Amusement Park’ in Central Park, I hope you will disillusion him gently as to the nature of projecting and out-of body excursions……I will leave it to you, Wrick old boy, to decide how best to handle it. Ah, you wise old buffoon, I can hear you saying it now: Al’s choices are perfect, as are yours. Becky smiled fondly and added to the postscript: Wrick, you’re a brick, old stick.

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