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Day is done...
May. 11th, 2009 06:05 amRecurring dream. This is another of those elaborate choreographed, technicolor, widescreen presentations that I seem to get now and then, and it has been replaying at intervals for a while now.
A very large convention center hotel, sprawling, lots of fake marble, fountains, and escalators as well as banks of elevators in various locations. The first two or three floors are mezzanine affairs with balconies that overlook the lobby-courtyard arrangement that contains a restaurant and bar. Not too hard to imagine, there must be many such places and even I, who rarely travel or visit hotels, have seen quite a few.
There's a difference, though. This place is famous for enactments or dramas that take place over an entire weekend, around and over the guests and involving them peripherally in the plotline. The sort of thing some dinner theatres do, only it takes several days to unfold. I've had more than one dream that contained a furry convention being held in the midst of such a thing, and in fact this particular sequence often seems to feature people I know from furrydom though it's not a furry con and there are no fursuits.
There is always much confusion and getting lost in the complex, which, as I said, is huge and sprawling. The theme in this one appears to be based on the legend of Robin Hood, as hotel employees are dressed appropriate to that, and menus are designed around it. The element that holds the repeats together takes place at the end of the day on Sunday, somewhere around 8 pm. (In fact, in last night's multiple repeats, I actually looked at my watch and found that it was 8:10 pm as it started.)
A group of men, presumably representing Robin Hood and his cohort, enter the lobby quietly from a corner. The lights would undoubtedly dim, except the place is largely lit by candles and lanterns at this point anyway. "Robin" starts singing in a rich tenor, a nice poetic ditty about "Day is done, and gone the sun, from every field and stable..." A hush falls over the assemblage, and then the men start shooting what one assumes are blunt arrows, with great accuracy, putting out lights one by one.
At this point, a mad panic ensues with people scrambling for exits, stairways, and escalators. I'm usually caught up in a crowd, thinking "I knew this was coming and should have gotten out of here a half hour ago as I dash for an elevator and manage to squeeze into it just when the doors are closing. The reason? The arrows are not all blunt, and someone is always hit by the one that has a real point. Usually it doesn't kill them, but the possibility exists. And people choose this as a thrill-seeking adventure. The hotel requires them to sign binding waivers and all that sort of thing.
When the panic clears, I find myself again in the lobby, surrounded by people I know, and I'm the one extracting a barbed dart from an unknown young woman's calf, where she was struck a glancing blow. It should be a bloody wound, but is surprisingly clean. The barb must be broken off in order to extract the shaft without more damage, but this is fairly easy since it went all the way through and out the other side...
I don't know where this thing is coming from, but I want it to go away. Even the song Robin Hood sings, which is actually quite lovely, is now so tainted with disgust, fear, and anger at the behaviors of commercial entities and crowd-following morons that I could never enjoy it in real life.
A very large convention center hotel, sprawling, lots of fake marble, fountains, and escalators as well as banks of elevators in various locations. The first two or three floors are mezzanine affairs with balconies that overlook the lobby-courtyard arrangement that contains a restaurant and bar. Not too hard to imagine, there must be many such places and even I, who rarely travel or visit hotels, have seen quite a few.
There's a difference, though. This place is famous for enactments or dramas that take place over an entire weekend, around and over the guests and involving them peripherally in the plotline. The sort of thing some dinner theatres do, only it takes several days to unfold. I've had more than one dream that contained a furry convention being held in the midst of such a thing, and in fact this particular sequence often seems to feature people I know from furrydom though it's not a furry con and there are no fursuits.
There is always much confusion and getting lost in the complex, which, as I said, is huge and sprawling. The theme in this one appears to be based on the legend of Robin Hood, as hotel employees are dressed appropriate to that, and menus are designed around it. The element that holds the repeats together takes place at the end of the day on Sunday, somewhere around 8 pm. (In fact, in last night's multiple repeats, I actually looked at my watch and found that it was 8:10 pm as it started.)
A group of men, presumably representing Robin Hood and his cohort, enter the lobby quietly from a corner. The lights would undoubtedly dim, except the place is largely lit by candles and lanterns at this point anyway. "Robin" starts singing in a rich tenor, a nice poetic ditty about "Day is done, and gone the sun, from every field and stable..." A hush falls over the assemblage, and then the men start shooting what one assumes are blunt arrows, with great accuracy, putting out lights one by one.
At this point, a mad panic ensues with people scrambling for exits, stairways, and escalators. I'm usually caught up in a crowd, thinking "I knew this was coming and should have gotten out of here a half hour ago as I dash for an elevator and manage to squeeze into it just when the doors are closing. The reason? The arrows are not all blunt, and someone is always hit by the one that has a real point. Usually it doesn't kill them, but the possibility exists. And people choose this as a thrill-seeking adventure. The hotel requires them to sign binding waivers and all that sort of thing.
When the panic clears, I find myself again in the lobby, surrounded by people I know, and I'm the one extracting a barbed dart from an unknown young woman's calf, where she was struck a glancing blow. It should be a bloody wound, but is surprisingly clean. The barb must be broken off in order to extract the shaft without more damage, but this is fairly easy since it went all the way through and out the other side...
I don't know where this thing is coming from, but I want it to go away. Even the song Robin Hood sings, which is actually quite lovely, is now so tainted with disgust, fear, and anger at the behaviors of commercial entities and crowd-following morons that I could never enjoy it in real life.
