38S27q3 - I just woke from a dream where I was in a surreal party world
where Keith was there && people mocked Beppu && where I was perceived
to be smooth with women && oscillated between order && disobedience.
Then I found myself in a bookstore.  There was anime all around...
people became slippery toons like FLCL (furi-kuri) but the girl before
me did not.  She was crouched on the floor... maybe kneeling or on a
small bench.  I think people also flickered && became like 3D models along
with the transitions to comic facial features && exaggerated expressions
to beautifully drawn anime characters.  The people were mostly just
going about their business in the bookstore but their comic / anime /
3d representations changed wildly.  One stared at me && I stared at her
changing face for a while as it grew puzzled why I would stare so long.
It was fascinating to me && seemed to hold some deep meaning but I
couldn't consider it for very long because I redirected my attention to
my girl who didn't waver like everyone else... && I thought she && I were
the only real people or something.  My girl was ashamed of her ugliness
but I loved her in some weird pure way && she asked if I was the author
of TruStory.  The question was loaded... was implying that of course I
was but there was something wrong... I said "No... I haven't written
TruStory... yet.  That's the right answer isn't it?".  Then I began
shouting "... or maybe I have written it but it's horrible?  Is that it?
Can I go read it in this bookstore?".  Then she started crying &&
shouting because I wouldn't look at her.  Why wouldn't I look at her?

She broke away running from me && I ran too in a weird roundabout way
going through strange buildings && like big gym bathrooms then she was
running straight from me && I chased.  She ran smack into a brick wall
that she couldn't see but only glanced off it as it raised.  It had
only been a curtain but it had hurt her or I wasn't sure.  There was
another wall curtain a few feet behind the still rising one.  I shouted
when I realized that maybe I could see things that she could not.
A strange man appeared out of nowhere && began to restrain me.  He was
very professional looking... in a suit I think && wore a uniform grin.
I caught out of my peripheral that she was being tangled up literally
with some weird marionette women ... three of them.  The man was much
stronger than me but then also oddly mechanical.  He grabbed each of my
arms with his && as soon as I discovered the way to wrench one of mine
free (even though he was considerably stronger, it was possible due
to proper application of leverage technique), a third arm popped out
to hold my arms more forcefully.  I asked if he could just keep making
arms whenever I thwarted the number he had but there was no response.
I gyrated free again && the three arms rhythmically snapped back on me.
I tore them apart violently && whipped the man towards the marionette
women but he caught me before he was flung, whipped back around me,
righted himself, && held me again in the exact same way he had before.
I wrenched a different way && flung him cleanly && everything was
harmonious... everything slowed down && smoothed out naturally.
His body dissipated && I ran behind his 3 twirling arms which curled
like a spinning disc blade as they perfectly crashed through all 3 sets
of marionette strings && the women lost their grasp on my girl && fell
apart into thread && cloth && smoke && they whisped away.

She crumpled to the floor && I ran && fell upon her with my hand on her
soft breast && brought my head down to kiss her && she was beautiful to
me && we sobbed together && the scene changed.  I needed to realize who
I was && how to love && protect her.

She had seemed saddened... broken hearted that I did not know whether
I had written TruStory when we were back in the bookstore... like I
should know.  She was hushed as if it were the greatest thing ever
written... nobody should overhear me admit that I had written it or
maybe I'd be mobbed...  or maybe it was just that important to her.
I didn't know or understand && admitted that I hadn't written it
yet... I didn't know the outcome... didn't know the right answer.  When I
started averting my gaze from her, her head grew more hair ... like a
solid straight curtain of pretty asian hair but I think it was white or
brightly colored or light was flashing on it.  She hung her head ashamed
that I didn't know who I was or how I should be or who I would become &&
I didn't yet grasp the magnitude of my relationship to her.  Who was she?

At first I thought she was Dee but then her face was ugly on the outside
so maybe she was Rika but her breasts were like Dee's... so lovely... like
Taki's.  So maybe Dee's face had become misfigured somehow or her ugly
face was a ruse but in the dream, I didn't care.  I could see that her
face was what would be considered ugly in United Statesian culture but I
was able to transcend that.  I knew a deeper appreciation of her beauty &&
she knew I loved her too... but she was timid, humble, ashamed... maybe
of something else... maybe of or for me because I didn't understand how
everything fit together yet.  I wanted to but it was so big.  I had some
profound purpose ... some mission I had not accomplished that would be
the culmination of my love && strength && sensitivity.  I didn't know
what it was or how to do it && she wanted or needed me to.

My sister had been there earlier... at the party.  She was visiting Cali
&& so distraught.  She could not escape the drug offers && the users &&
pushers && partiers.  I said something encouraging but was unsure if it
would help or if there was something more I could do.  I hoped she would
ask because I so often want to be helpful && good && kind I don't know
the best way to do it.

I had said goodbyes to people at the party who pretended to regret to see
me go... but they were mostly paired up && about to sleep with partners
so they also seemed eager to see me leave but then the other room closer
to the stairs down to the front door was still jumping so I didn't leave
then.  There were adorable kitties around && a cool dog that could talk
perfectly well but it wouldn't always understand me when I would talk
to it.  Sometimes it would respond in perfect English mixed with barks but
other times it seemed to have no idea && maybe had just been trained or
programmed to respond well under the right conditions.  The behavior kept
me guessing but comfortable enough to keep talking to the dog regularly.
I would scratch it a lot.  It wanted a lot of attention && I totally
liked it's company.  It was also silly with the cats.  They all liked
my touch && would huddle together ... even overlapping each other to be
petted && scratched.  They were sweet && cool.

Then people started dancing && kicking && doing mockingly cool
handshakes... "Say hi to Beppu-san" one taunted.  I felt sad &&
embarassed for my friend that he had been so unnatural the last time
he had come to hang out when these people had met him... he had been so
obviously uncomfortable but tried so hard to fit in... to be cool... to
be friendly && identify that he had been a sore thumb.  They remembered
him so well... had such practiced impressions of him because his oddness
was what seemed to be a recurring joke to them.  It wasn't funny to me.
I love my friend && want him to be happy && I don't know how to help him
to feel comfortable around many people && particularly women.  I had
had enough && was ready to really leave the party after seeing this.
There were several people in the shadows in the stairwell... maybe 8 as
it was many stairs && pretty wide.  I couldn't make any of them out but
one whispered that the cops were just outside && they'd give me a hard
time right away but that if I was sober (which I thought I was) I might
be able to handle them fine && deflect attention / problem from the party.

I was contented to do this && walked out the door.  A cop started asking
me questions I could not hear.  I asked politely for a repeat of the
questions but his voice came again too quietly.  I asked again && he
repeated more intesely ... it seemed like it should be more forceful &&
louder but it was still just as inaudible.  I again said I could not
hear && he grew hostile && informed me that his weapon was drawn && what
sounded like he might shoot me dead if I said anything else wrong.  It was
so dark that I could hardly make it out && I could only imagine whether
I had heard him correctly by piecing together nearly silent syllables but
I thought I saw him in a pistol-wielding stance aimed at me so I dropped
to the floor with my hands down && spread out.  He started scanning my
body with what was like a metal detector wand at airports or something.
It cast a small light && made a couple weird sounds over my wrists &&
some other places I didn't imagine I had any metal.  Under the light,
I could see that I was shaking constantly... I could not calm my hands
from shaking lightly yet visibly.  I felt like my body slightly shivered
even though I was not cold.  I was sure I was on E or something then
that would make me shaky but I had just forgotten I had taken it so I
had to first hope he wouldn't notice or something but he got down on
the ground so close to my prone sprawl that he couldn't miss anything.
His wand kept blinking off like it was cheap or damaged or supposedly
smart && he'd have to whack it against his other hand or jiggle it or
curse at it to get it to operate correctly again.  This made the whole
ordeal even more tedious && frustrating for both of us.

Eventually I said I couldn't do it anymore ... I couldn't keep struggling
visibly in the gap between obedient && not.  My thoughts spiraled in
on my prior outspokenness... my past willingness to openly advocate
subersive behavior.  I realized that openly advocating disobedience had
ruined my ability to participate in it... thus negating my integrity on
the subject...  but that was not the biggest concern... it was more that
I needed to be able to break rules without being reknowned as someone
who does or who is widely known to encourage others to do so.  I felt I
needed to hide my honesty... my outspokenness...  I needed to undo what
had been done as much as possible && start hiding my sentiments... start
concealing my revolutionary tendencies... my opinion that developed girls
under 18 should be legal if both parties are willing... my advocacy of
Libertarian ideas, Free Software, && free data exchange of all types.
The controversy was dangerous since all my openness had hurt me.
I needed it as hidden power... not as a motivational honest outspoken
tool for others or myself...not to rally people behind me but to make
what I want for me.  I guess I have wanted popular opinion to sway things
toward better ends but the power structure had relegated that a futile
effort.  It was time to reevaluate my goals considering likely outcomes
&& to change gears as necessary.

I think I found myself in the bookstore shortly after this police
incident.  All I said was "I'm afraid I can't hear you" && then "I can't
do this anymore" so I only thought the rest of it && realized my error.

I'm not sure what happened after I fell upon my girl in what was I guess
no longer the bookstore but bathrooms connected to an auditorium of some
sort with the weird curtains / backdrops.  I think the scene changed to
something totally different && cool && I relaxed && took a deep breath
&& woke up realizing I should start writing TruStory if I was indeed
supposed to... but maybe it should be private?

If the authorities have their eye on me, they are concerned because I
pose some level of threat as an outspoken advocate of overthrow when
fed up but how much more dangerous do I become when I realize that my
power && ability is multiplied when I can elude their gaze... appear
to be normal && not against them even though I really am.  That is
more deceptive... a much greater threat.  If they were to realize my
advancing levels of subversion, they would kill me.  I cannot let them
know I know.  I must measure my behavior so that even my unpredictability,
misbehavior, && advocacy all taper gradually ... undetectably.  I mustn't
raise suspicion as I ease myself into relative normalcy... outward
acceptance... condonement of... contentment with the status quo.  Does it
mean I have to watch more tv or just gossip about people more... even
change my thinking so that my mind is not so visibly && perpetually
concerned with ideals... so people don't ask me why I'm deep in thought
all the time.  My purpose is no longer to help other people wake up but
to remain awake myself by appearing to bumble through life as anyone
else does... so that the entrenched powers don't take notice && bring
the hammer down to force me to sleep through conditioning && medicines
&& operations.  I cannot hide abruptly but I realize now that I must be
for myself && I can only stick my neck out... only jeopardize myself
for my closest most trusted loved ones.  I can do it.  TruStory must
not fall into the wrong hands.