Dreaming of wasps

[Zadown]

I dreamed of wasps. That much I remember. They were supposed to be trapped in red jelly, immobile and safe. When they did get free, cutting through air like miniature Stukas, I panicked. Yelled and flailed my hands, irritated my dream neighborhoods who were dreaming of a domestic dispute or a Tupperware party and of course woke myself up.

 

It wasn't bad, as far as nightmares go. But it troubled me. I dreamed of wasps. German wasps to be precise, Vespula germanica, if it matters. They all look the same to me. Shower did not wash away the dream, even if it cleaned me of the cold dream sweat. The first cup of tea did not jolt it away. It clung, and burrowed into my flesh. A paper body, I thought. How appropriate.

 

I couldn't see any of them outside, not even with my new glasses that showed the outside world in a dazzling detail, colors all wrong through the dark lenses. Every blemish, every tiny beautiful leaf in the trees so exact it was hard to move. How many times you have really seen the clouds? Their fractal nature can freeze you, like a junkie staring at his own fingertips. I don't even know if we get German wasps here. But if we do, I am sure I can see the three dots on their forehead. If we do, and if they make the mistake of staring at me. They do not have the likes of my sunglasses, though who knows what those compound eyes show them. A thousand fractals? I'd check Wikipedia but that's the one place I know the wasps wait me at.

 

The place I work at is a smaller building, an omega male lurking at the corner of the block. I remembered my other dream when I walked in, opening the door with my electronic key. A nightmare about failing slowly at my studies, surrounded by hungry wolves who saw the future. They gobbled up the lectures as if what the lecturers said made sense. That one was far worse since it was true. Despair, though, not fear. Still, not as important as the fact I had dreamed of wasps.

 

I had to mutter some sort of greeting to my fellow workers. It made it easier to check their foreheads, but none of them had the three dots that would have marked them as German. Worst part of any work day, and when it was over and I was in my own lair I felt a renewed urge to check Wiki. I did not know everything about my enemy. Black and yellow, yes, three dots, check, paper lairs, ability to cut through red jelly and fly like a Stuka. Dream avatars that burrow into the flesh of the dreamer and cannot be drowned out with the day's first shower. But that was it. A lot was missing.

 

A deep breath. I suddenly knew going there, meeting them on their land, would have been a bad idea. I looked around. This was my lair, my land: piles of tailless mouses, QWERTY and AZERTY and FFSOMGWTF keyboards, every one of the missing at least two keys, countless computers. Half of them breathed in, other half out, and the third half were dead, their glassy eyes dim. Air was dusty and still. The dusty bunny civilization was flourishing out there in the corner where the piles had started. Accessories were so old in there they had no practical use, some of them never had had one. I had once been there, dodging past sharp metal edges and grey and tan towers, but that part of the room was no longer my lair. No man's land, a tribute to the follies of past engineers. They created things which had only the purpose of counting. Nobody could influence them, read the numbers or ask results. The dust bunnies could have them for all I cared.

 

My heart rate went up. Took a while for me to realize why before it was obvious. The computer fans were like wasp wings, whirring with a rapid beat. I had not seen any of my computers fly yet, but I did not watch them all the time. Some of them made paper nests, up in the offices above. This was concerning development. I would have to think on it more, later on. But right now the hive of computers breathed in, and out, and sighed. These were those that could be ordered, the machines that would leap through fiery loops if we told them the numbers. I took my whip and the instructions from above. Dreams could wait. Even dreams that burrowed through my paper body.

[Silver WInd]

This was very intresting and very unique to read, I rather enjoyed the quirkiness of it, and in many ways it reminded me of Syliva Plath

[Zadown]

Glad you liked it - wanted to something different from my huge and stylistically monotonous Dreamer-saga. Never heard of Syliva Plath before, though, so any similarities are coincidental.

[lessthaninnocent]

Quirky is the right word. I love the way you've taken a dream which would be seemingly insignificant and illusatrated the way sometims our dreams play on our minds. I love the metaphors though personally I found some a little confusing, maybe that will clear up when I read this again.

[Wyvern]

This is a very good piece of writing, Zadown. :-) The way that you detail elements of reality with the abstract imagery of the wasp dream is very striking and original, and seems to communicate the feel and impression of the dream through the events that transpire. My favorite moment of this imagery might be in the final paragraph, where the computers and fans seem to take on the roles of the wasps. There's also something sad and fascinating about the way that you end the piece with a reference to the narrator's "paper body," and I felt a similar element of sadness in the description of the wolves that gobble up gibberish lectures. It feels sort of like an inescapable despair that courses through the piece, which gives the writing a strong tone and leaves an impression by the time that the story is over.

 

Anyway, this is very well done, both in its uses of language and in its concept and execution. On a side note: if your writing involves dreams and powerful impressions, you really should try and check out "Inland Empire" at some point... -_O

[Patrick]

Yay, I finally got around to reading threads from my to-read list.

 

Interesting piece, and quite quirky as already mentioned. Not what I'm used to reading from you. Nice descriptions.