The city buzzes beneath my feet and the streetlights flicker in response to the hypnotic glow of my watch. Maya whispers, "You haven't been sleeping well, so I've added a stronger sleep aid to your cart. Shall I purchase?"
"Sure", I reply. My foot catches on a raised sidewalk edge. I stumble and catch myself. My heart races. The apartment buildings lean in to catch me. Time slows as well as the light emanating from the windows overhead.
"David, do you need assistance?"
"No, I just need to sleep. Why can't I sleep?"
"You're resisting, David. The restlessness you feel when you lie awake, sweating through your bed sheets, pulls you further from the dream state you desire."
Is that what I desire? To dream? To wake and wait for Night to fall? To drift through life, led from one pleasure to the next? Do I not want to dance or fight or truly tire?
I'm not resisting; I'm retreating.
"I'll call you a taxi," Maya whispers.
"No, I'm fine. Play my deep house playlist."
"Playing."
The apartment buildings straighten. Light resumes its normal flow. The bass drum stabilizes the tempo of my steps. The streets are empty. When was the last time I smiled at someone passing by?
"Playing ad for Desolate Dragons III," Maya whispers. "A new adventure awaits, David. Award-winning neural-sync gameplay from the makers of Desolate Dragons I and II returns, delivering bigger thrills and grander scenes. Your dragon, Oneiros, awaits your return. Start the new chapter today for only 49 Rev tokens." A chime signals the end of the ad. I wave my hand, and the sound of tokens falling through a metal slot echoes through my mind. "Adding Desolate Dragons III to your library."
"Thank you."
I turn a few corners and climb the steps of my apartment building. My watch vibrates and the building’s doors swing open. The elevator hums. The hallway smells of cleaning solution and pizza.
I collapse onto my bed and open Desolate Dragons III. French horns swell from the depths of my subconscious. The skies above are ablaze. Children scream. Oneiros crouches beside me, radiating heat, and says, "Welcome back, David. We have much to do."
I feel warm.
Sleep can come later.
In Greek Mythology, The Oneiroi were black-winged daemons or spirits sent by the Gods to deliver dreams. In Homer’s The Iliad, Zeus calls upon an Oneiros to appear to Agamemnon in a dream. The above painting by James Heath shows an Oneiros taking the form of Nestor, legendary king of Pylos and trusted advisor, to tell Agamemnon that the Gods are on his side.
I think you hit the nail on the head , R.H. I just wrote an article about distractions and the Resistance and this resonated. It seems like we're all wrestling with these distractions today. Perhaps, more than ever...
What a mix of feelings of melancholy and wistful. And maybe an optimistic twist on our undergoing techno-evolution? I love the idea here of the importance of learning how to dream again. How dreaming sustains us more than sleep perhaps. The end leaves you with a warm feeling of rediscovery!