See, I didn't outline S7. I had a bunch of cool premises in mind and an opening scene. That's it. The rest came to me via the muse method, tapping or being tapped by the creative flow found only in the universe (not in one's gel-filled pea brain). It made writing S7 as exciting as the subsequent reading of it has been. But damn it, I can't walk away from the characters, the progression, the story, as it is. I just can't. It's too evolved, too done. Tonight I know that and while I reserve the right to enact Plan B, I'm sticking to Plan A and riding it out.
So agents and publishers, beware: System Seven will be queried, in all it's complexity and lengthy glory.
To celebrate my continued contraction and expansion as a writer, I present an excerpt:
"You’ll show me how this is done?" he asked Pons.
"I'm going to try. You must make the proper leaps." Pons blinked several times before continuing. "Now, there’s a benefit to being right next to someone you want to drag into a dream. It takes most of the work out of it, provided you know what you’re doing. Distance is a factor for most. For me it is." A butterfly flew in the window, fluttered in a circle, and left through the doorway. "You extend right into their meta flow, quietly. Do a little number with the local loop, at the brain stem. Some call it ‘planting the tree’ or ‘setting base camp’. Then you follow their flow into Saoghal."
The window panes seemed more orange than yellow. The angle of the sun?
"Once there, you spawn a dream via their meta, one that perfectly matches the grid around them. You do this by using fresh physical data from the meta stream in the local loop. The eyes, the ears... every sense flows in the meta, giving you the ingredients to create the stage. You can imagine the dexterity this involves, yes? It takes practice, lots of practice. You must be careful, so they don’t detect it, aren’t distracted by the act of constructing it."
The drapes began to sag, lengthening on the rods.
"And then once built, once synchronized, you will have slipped your dream over the top of their reality. A joining. A merging." He paused, eyeing Johan. "You’re doing quite well in your realization that you’re now dreaming lucidly. At this point, most people are very emotional, feeling disconnected from their body, scared to death of me, or thinking they’ve lost their mind. But not you. I should probably thank you for your restraint, because I imagine you are holding back."
"I am." Glued to the druid’s every word, he resisted trying to take control and focused instead on what he’d just sensed. Just like that, they were dreaming the druid’s dream. "How is this possible?"
"We daydream." Together. Pons' voice resonated in the center of his mind.
"You’re not holding me in this, are you?"
I was, but you feel it now, of course. You could break it if you wanted but please don’t, not yet. I’ve wonderful teaching tools here. Get comfortable now, and relax. Trust me.
Pons proceeded to describe the technique to initiate dream control, coupling his words with concepts born from thought. Extending one’s meta into someone else’s was the most difficult concept to absorb. The druid tried to explain.
"It’s like a mini-dream unto itself, Johan. You have to form it and trust its validity, trust your sense and the intended outcome. At night you reach up in the darkness for light knob that you know is there but cannot see. Same with extending your meta. It is there, and you can reach it. All humans have meta. Essentially, they are meta. When you recognize your experience of it, when you trust your awareness of it, it responds – you respond – and validation occurs. The bloom of understanding and information. It is exactly what the Comannda do not want people to do, an ability they have worked so hard to suppress with culture and fear. With practice, you will recognize it and eventually flow with it into other people, other places. Truth will become plain to you."
"Other places? No limits?"
The world seemed to contract a little. "That is... complicated. We’ll return to it later. Until we do, please do not extend further than where you can see. Do not."
"Ongelofelijk." Unbelievable.
And onward I march...
