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lb_leeMori: Okay, this has been going on for almost four years now and it's driving us crazy. (And I'd rather post about this than how we're handling Trump II: The Empire Strikes Back.)
We keep vividly dreaming about this place, and its geography keeps staying relentlessly consistent every time, which is damn near unheard of for us. (You know how some fantasy authors CAN'T WAIT to show you their fancy maps? That is not us.) We never remember any of the people in it, it's always the PLACE.
It's on a very steep hill, the part we've mostly explored, a main drag going straight down to a beach at the bottom. The beach extends rightward to be... I dunno, a beach, we never go there, fuck beaches. Leftward, and the beach becomes an increasingly hazardous rock/stepping stone path to a chain of islands. That main drag connects to a long narrow open-air but roofed flea market area, which we've spent a lot of time in. Sometimes, it's crammed full of vendors, other times it's empty and off-season. The buildings are brightly colored, crammed all together and three stories tall, like townhouses except not nearly so fancy. The paint is always peeling and chipped, the wood all weathered and worn. It's rundown and artsy, like maybe they tried to gentrify and totally failed and the artists took it over again.
This round, we got to explore its public transit system. It's an extremely pedestrian main drag; we never see any cars there, and we found out why: its transit seems to all be rail. There was an above-ground, fancy, futuristic system (in a very blah, corporate airport kinda way), and then an underground system that was clearly the one in use by the people we'd encounter, with a lot of half-finished abandoned construction and tunnels that people would hide and squat in. We don't know where the rich above-grounders live; they sure aren't the people we encounter in the market, which are a bit above the tunnel-squatters but still not fancy.
It insists it's Wellington, New Zealand, a real place we did live for a while, and it also has some features of Port Waikato, another New Zealand town we spent time in, but it is NEITHER of those places. It's not a real place ANY of us know about. I even asked Rawlin and Falcon, and neither of them know it. We call it Wellstown, since we have to call it something.
We don't dream about places like this usually. It's always somewhere we've lived or spent time in, be it corporeal, otherworld, or headspace (such as the abyssal depths, a place we CAN'T safely access while awake). We are all stumped as to what it's deal is, only that it feels important.
WHAT IS THIS PLACE. WHY DOES IT KEEP APPEARING IN OUR FUCKING DREAMS.
We keep vividly dreaming about this place, and its geography keeps staying relentlessly consistent every time, which is damn near unheard of for us. (You know how some fantasy authors CAN'T WAIT to show you their fancy maps? That is not us.) We never remember any of the people in it, it's always the PLACE.
It's on a very steep hill, the part we've mostly explored, a main drag going straight down to a beach at the bottom. The beach extends rightward to be... I dunno, a beach, we never go there, fuck beaches. Leftward, and the beach becomes an increasingly hazardous rock/stepping stone path to a chain of islands. That main drag connects to a long narrow open-air but roofed flea market area, which we've spent a lot of time in. Sometimes, it's crammed full of vendors, other times it's empty and off-season. The buildings are brightly colored, crammed all together and three stories tall, like townhouses except not nearly so fancy. The paint is always peeling and chipped, the wood all weathered and worn. It's rundown and artsy, like maybe they tried to gentrify and totally failed and the artists took it over again.
This round, we got to explore its public transit system. It's an extremely pedestrian main drag; we never see any cars there, and we found out why: its transit seems to all be rail. There was an above-ground, fancy, futuristic system (in a very blah, corporate airport kinda way), and then an underground system that was clearly the one in use by the people we'd encounter, with a lot of half-finished abandoned construction and tunnels that people would hide and squat in. We don't know where the rich above-grounders live; they sure aren't the people we encounter in the market, which are a bit above the tunnel-squatters but still not fancy.
It insists it's Wellington, New Zealand, a real place we did live for a while, and it also has some features of Port Waikato, another New Zealand town we spent time in, but it is NEITHER of those places. It's not a real place ANY of us know about. I even asked Rawlin and Falcon, and neither of them know it. We call it Wellstown, since we have to call it something.
We don't dream about places like this usually. It's always somewhere we've lived or spent time in, be it corporeal, otherworld, or headspace (such as the abyssal depths, a place we CAN'T safely access while awake). We are all stumped as to what it's deal is, only that it feels important.
WHAT IS THIS PLACE. WHY DOES IT KEEP APPEARING IN OUR FUCKING DREAMS.
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