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[In_Dreams: The_End]

by Mimi Jones-Taylor

            “I fucking hate these things.”
            Trent pushed open the glass doors to the patio, lit by the blue glow rising from the pool in its centre. The smell of propane permeated the crowd from the tall gas lamps, blasting their heat in spite of May’s early humidity.
            The kettle of media vultures circled around him.
            “Congratulations, Trent, on another great tour.”
            Trent put on a crooked smile.
            “Get me the fuck outta here,” he muttered to Alessandro out of the corner of his mouth.
            “Dude, you have that interview upstairs,” replied Alessandro.
            Trent shrugged towards the venue of reporters.
            “Excuse me, folks, I have to be somewhere,” he said, following the edges of the kidney-shaped pool with his steps.
            “Dude, look to your right!”
            Trent hesitated at the sound of Jeordie’s voice, and turned around. The rest of the band had now been surrounded by the press, including Jeordie. Trent shook his head, and started up the stairs, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket.
            “Room 217.”
            The noise from the patio echoed in his ears as he arrived at the room’s alcove. As he reached to knock, an olive-skinned woman with long, red hair and green eyes opened the door.
            “Mr. Reznor?”
            The breath of her voice brushed past his ear.
            “Y-yes,” he stammered.
            “Thank you so much for coming. I’m Elizabeth from Luna Press.”
            Her voice was sweet, with a hint of nasal echo caused by the break in its bridge. “And this is Chuck, our photographer.”
            A tall, heavyset albino man stood next to the table in the suite, gripping a black camera with an oversized flash.
            “Hello,” said Trent.
            “Please, sit down,” said Elizabeth, closing the door.
            “So, Luna Press? Sorry, I’d never heard of you guys before,” said Trent, “But your press release was so interesting. Can you explain exactly what you guys do?”
            “You’re the one being interviewed.”
            Her laughter echoed with the joy of a new bride.
            “But I’ll be happy to explain to you what we do if you could do one small favour for me. Could you autograph this for my little sister?”
            Elizabeth gave him a rolled poster. As he reached for its end, he noticed the etched gold band that she was wearing on her hand.
            “That’s a lovely ring,” said Trent.
            Elizabeth smiled, and handed him a Sharpie.
            “Thank you very much,” she said. “Would you like some dessert before we begin?”
            “I’ll just have a…”
            Trent looked into Elizabeth’s eyes. The laughter ringing in his ears became malicious, and a sharp pain fell across his cheek.
            “Um, sure,” he said, “I’ll have some dessert. What do you have?”
            “I’m sure you’ll like it,” she said, removing the domed lid from the tray on the table. She took the glass bowl and set it in front of him, laying a spoon beside it.
            Trent unfurled the poster. It was a pose he had seen of himself and the band a million times, but tonight, something else was too familiar about the picture. He took his time signing his name along his torso.
            “There you go,” he said. “Now, please tell me, what exactly is this interview about?”
            Trent looked at the bowl of white ice cream with perfect red berries set in front of him.
            “Please,” said Elizabeth, “have some.”
            Trent’s hand shook as he dipped the spoon into the bowl. The cold, sweet cream slid into his mouth.
            Shocked, Trent began to stammer.
            “This…this is…Madagascar Vanilla…”
            “To answer your question,” said Elizabeth, “our publication interviews people who have had contact with the other dimensions in their lives and the lives of other people around them. You seemed like a perfect candidate, Mr. Reznor.”
            Trent dropped the spoon on the table.
            “What the…”
            “We know because we’ve seen you,” said Elizabeth. “This world is only one aspect of your entire life. It’s the same for everyone. Every choice we make could potentially take us to a different dimension. In this dimension, you decided to let the pretty girl walk through your video shoot in Central Park. In another, you followed your instincts and asked her to stay. Most people dismiss these multiple lives as dreams they have, because in order to shift from one dimension to another, you have to be asleep in the remaining dimensions. So right now, you’ve passed out in the world where you’re still being held hostage. You’re sleeping next to your beautiful wife in another dimension. But here, you’re wide awake, being interviewed.”
            “And how do you know all of this?” asked Trent.
            Elizabeth smiled.
            “There are some people in this world who are more attuned to the other worldly phenomena that surround them. Most of these people, like yourself, are creative. And, just as you tried to do earlier in your life, many of them try to kill off this sensitivity through the use of drugs and alcohol and other substances and methods. Most of the time they end up killing themselves. And when that happens…well, let’s just say that we at Luna Press are very happy to see that you’ve come through all of your lives. You’re our first big celebrity interview.”
            “Lady, you’re fucking insane.”
            Trent stood up from the sofa.
            “Am I?” said Elizabeth
            “I’m going back down to the party. At least I can handle that kind of insanity.”
            “If I’m so insane, Mr. Reznor,” Elizabeth called as he approached the door, “Then why did your cheek hurt when you looked at the ice cream?”
            “How did you know about that?”
            Elizabeth smiled.
            “Every picture that is taken of you, every videographic image, steals a piece of your soul. By autographing these pictures, you put a piece of your soul back in contact with the collective whole. That is why you’ve been more sensitive these days to the various portals of your life.
            “Think of us as guides, Mr. Reznor. We are here to reassure you that you have made the right choices in your life for this dimension, and that you are not conjuring up alternative realities inside your mind. My appearance, and these objects you see in the room that you recognize, they are all manifestations of images from your various lives. To someone else, I would look completely different.”
            “And what about him?” Trent said, looking at the photographer.
            “Chuck is here to set things right,” said Elizabeth. “You’ve been slipping too far into other worlds, and you’ve been sleeping for too long in this one. We had to come and rebalance things for you.”
            “Rebalance? What the hell does that mean?”
            “There’s always one dimension where the worlds collide,” said Elizabeth. “And if someone’s not ready for that, they could end up destroying all of their worlds as the dimensions collapse in on themselves. I’m here to tell you not to worry about what you’re seeing or feeling. Just let it happen. Just let it go.”
            “You will be fine.”
            “So this isn’t an interview at all, is it?”
            Elizabeth kissed him on the cheek, and said, “I’ll see you in your dreams.”
            “Over here, Mr. Reznor.”
            The flash from Chuck’s camera blinds Trent for a moment. He blinks several times to recover his vision. The Twins stand in front of him, laughing; She holds a Polaroid camera, Her Twin is shaking the picture. As Her Twin is about to reveal the shot to Trent, She takes another photo.
            The flash from the Polaroid blinds Trent again. As his vision becomes focused, he feels his feet against cold, wet ground. Looking down, he is standing beside the hotel pool, as Aaron takes a picture of Jeordie gunning for Trent. In shock, Trent cannot move as Jeordie throws his weight into Trent’s torso, lifting his feet from the ground. Aaron takes another picture with the small camera.
            The flash from the digital blinds Trent again. This time, he keeps his eyes closed, listening to the shuffling of feet on pavement around his head. He opens his eyes into the camera of the coroner’s office, pointing down at his motionless body on the ground. Startled, the coroner looks up from the viewfinder, and hits the shutter by accident.
The flash from the 35mm obscures Trent’s vision. Red dots appear in front of his line of sight, and he can hear the snaps and shutters of various cameras around his head. He turns his head away from the sounds, and looks into the face of his smiling bride. As they lean in to kiss, someone shouts, “Over here, guys,” and they turn their heads towards the voice.
            The multiple flashes blind Trent once more. As he squints, his eyes in pain, a man approaches him, and turns his shoulders. “That’s better,” says the man, as he returns to his place behind the camera. The band is standing in a random order in front of the blue backdrop. Trent shakes his head, looking down at the t-shirt he is wearing. “Um, excuse me, Trent?” calls the photographer, and snaps the photo as Trent lifts his head.

            Trent opened his eyes, raising a hand to touch his face. He was standing in the middle of the patio party, as the warmth from his cheek heated his fingertips.
            He turned his head towards his friend Rob, whose brow was furrowed with worry.
            “Dude, you okay?” said Rob.
            “Yeah, I’m fine.” Trent smiled. “I couldn’t be better. Why?”
            “’Cause, like, dude, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now, and you just stood there, lost inside your head. What the fuck is going on?”

Posted by Mimi Jones-Taylor in tales_of_terror | Permalink


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Yay, my thoughts were answered. Now that I know exactly what's going on, it's even more interesting! Love the concept. You have a very creative mind, Mimi.

Posted by: Kim | Sep 4, 2005 6:04:52 PM

Brilliant Mimi! Simply marvelous!

Posted by: Kate | Sep 4, 2005 8:46:47 PM

Like I said before: what's Mimi smoking, and where can I get some?

I second Kim's comments re: your mind.

Posted by: Dierdre | Sep 4, 2005 9:15:48 PM

Yea, sounds like Mimi has some good drugs.

I'll have to go back and read the others again now that I know what's going on.

Posted by: Jessica | Sep 5, 2005 3:36:32 AM

Je te jure, mesdames, that the only thing I am smoking these days is a nice, unfiltered Gauloise. Well this may not be 100% true since I am in school in Canada. But merci for your compliments. My mind is nurtured by good food and good wine and plenty of l'amour.

Posted by: Mimi | Sep 5, 2005 7:29:57 AM

Mimi, you are one crazy motherfucker.

Posted by: Dierdre | Sep 5, 2005 8:51:13 AM

Love it. You write beautifully Mimi.

Posted by: Nicole | Sep 5, 2005 9:39:58 AM

Fucked-up and brilliant. Gods, I love it. Brava, Mimi!

Posted by: emerald527 | Sep 5, 2005 10:19:08 AM

Excellent Mimi! I actually know something of these concepts..but didn't see this coming.

PS. Speaking of dreams...I had a doosey about Trent the other morning...wouldn't that be wild if he had the same dream..of course featuring people he'd never met. I often see people in my dreams I've never met or don't know and I could describe their appearance, personalities, etc. in great detail. What if they are from other dimensions of my life???

Posted by: bex | Sep 5, 2005 11:24:56 AM

Excellent Mimi! I actually know something of these concepts..but didn't see this coming.

PS. Speaking of dreams...I had a doosey about Trent the other morning...wouldn't that be wild if he had the same dream..of course featuring people he'd never met. I often see people in my dreams I've never met or don't know and I could describe their appearance, personalities, etc. in great detail. What if they are from other dimensions of my life???

Posted by: bex | Sep 5, 2005 11:25:27 AM

This page sucks shit, get a life!

Posted by: and you dare to tavk about mh perspective! | Sep 29, 2005 6:11:57 PM

Wow, for a penis, you are surprisingly temperate.

Posted by: maise | Oct 24, 2005 7:07:21 AM

seriously, this sort of shit has to stop. You should be the poster child for the pro choise campaign you pathetic, lowly fucks.

Posted by: Joe | Nov 26, 2005 7:27:38 PM

Not to be pedantic, Joe, but you should be the poster child for the pro-dictionary campaign.

Posted by: maise | Nov 26, 2005 7:30:52 PM

And, come to think of it, we did stop it ("it" being the original post above) ages ago. Live in the now. There are soooooo many other things going on currently that you could come and scold us for.

Posted by: maise | Nov 26, 2005 7:48:44 PM

Oh, PLEEEEEEEEAAAASE scold me next!!! I'm feeling naughty!

Posted by: bex | Nov 26, 2005 9:32:50 PM

Goddammit, I wish the trolls had brains. Wouldn't it be fun if EVEN ONE of them were worth arguing with?

Hope springs eternal, I guess. Maybe.

Posted by: Jane | Nov 27, 2005 2:08:25 PM

Oh. My. God.

This shit is horrible. WHY DO YOU DO THIS? I believe you, ma'am, need to get a LIFE, along with Gabriel and Diedre. I mean, I thought those Dear_Trent letters were the worse pieces of FUCKING SHIT I had ever seen in my life, but this is just...ATROCIOUS.

I am not a troll. I am simply posting my opinion. And my opinion is THIS SITE SUCKS HUGE, ENORMOUS, GIGANTIC BALLS.

Posted by: c | Dec 9, 2005 8:09:10 PM

C, congratulations! You amuse me.

I think it's the desperate Nancy Kerrigan-esque "WHY???? WHY???? WHYYYYYYYY?????" tone you briefly strike in your post. It's just one capitalized sentence, I now, but it really raises you heads above the rest.

Give me more of that. I want you shaking your fist at the gods while the pastoral village you've grown up in all your life becomes engulfed in the flames started by a marauding band of barbarians.

Posted by: maise | Dec 9, 2005 8:32:47 PM


Posted by: Dierdre | Dec 10, 2005 12:53:59 AM

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