Going back to sleep, the game night crawl dream rapidly resumes and takes on a darker tone.
There are more games and more people, but the presentation has taken on the look and feel of reality television. People get shallower and prettier and the games gradually disappear altogether. This is not about networking, it is just about the shiny people.
I walk away from the shiny people, and the dream changes tracks again.
I am doing a DJ dancehall gig, complete with video presentation.
There are warring tribes on the dance floor. Team Changeling (or Faerie, if you prefer) on one side, team Dragon on the other.
A serial killer is lurking by the restrooms, where the lights have gone out. Someone is cutting off arms with a samurai sword. An image that sticks with me is people in white shirts and pants chopping off each other’s limbs on a dare as I hurry past.
The look of the dream is as if David Lynch is directing a film about Changeling in a dark contemporary setting. Lots of beautiful dark shadows and striking juxtapositions between a greasy white trash look, organic rot, industrial distress and Magic. If this were captured on film it would be a love child between Lynch’s “Lost Highway” and Guillermo Del Toro’s “Pan’s Labyrinth”.
I am trying to remain professional as the world beyond the booth is going to hell in a handbasket. I want to stay alive, and am starting to worry about it more and more as the dance floor is literally running red with the blood of the fallen, Faerie, Dragonborn and mortal alike. I pop on a record by a fae-pop star and count the minutes until the end of my shift. It can’t come soon enough.
The attention of the dream shifts from the dancehall to the backstory of the fae-pop artist (who resembles a “Lost Boys” era Kiefer Sutherland) whose music is playing. The backstory of the rise and fall of this artist is on the flickering video monitors above the dance floor.
The story features a shadowy record producer and a changeling robot called “Doubler” – captured via a reality / “behind the music” style television clip show. Mark Hamill appears on this show playing the record producer. He looks great in long blue-black hair and a beard. Doubler is a faerie/robot mix who can take on the exact physical appearance of anyone he has come into contact with for short spans of time. Doubler has a dark, wicked streak and generally uses his ability to brew jealousy and discord.
There are a lot of fights between him and the handsome young protégé followed by sloppy make-out sessions, followed by more fighting. More than once Doubler shows up to confuse matters by posing as either Hamill’s character or the fae-pop artist.
Back at the dance, the fae-pop song comes to an end and I am relieved when the next DJ shows up and takes over the booth. He is a dark figure, a living shadow, who plays a lot of industrial (Skinny Puppy, Ministry, Frontline Assembly) which drives the already homicidal crowd absolutely nuts. I grab my record case and get out of there, stepping gingerly over the dead bodies.
The landscape outside the dance hall has turned into a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
I find my way home, which also happens to be the long abandoned home of the fae-pop star. I pick through the wreckage, looking for something I can trade for food or can otherwise salvage. In the background, on a wall-mounted television set, plays an episode of the old reality television show that existed at the height of the fae-pop stars stardom. The title of the episode is “the trouble with doubles” – Mark Hamill’s character gets caught making out with the protégé, but it turns out to be Doubler (cue laugh track). Protégé gets caught making out with the Hamill character but it turns out to only be Doubler (laugh track). Protégé and Hamill make out with each other, both thinking they are both making out with Doubler, but it turns out Doubler is off making a sandwich (laugh track).
I hear soft weeping sounds coming from one of the rooms and find the ingénue, not so young and pretty anymore. He is scarred and bald/sick from radiation poisoning. He is reviewing testimony in preparations for a deposition. I move quietly away so as not to disturb.
I wake up and immediately think of Kesha.