What do you think about your dreams?

        Scientists tell us that what we dream is a production of our minds
in REM sleep. Ideas, images, thoughts, desires, fears...all of these, like
a movie, play across our blindingly fast eyelids. Dreams are things of
horror, and of immense beauty. Shamans have long praised the dream as the
source of most of man's spiritual wisdom. Psychologists admit that what is
buried deepest within us bubbles to the surface as we dream.

        What do you remember about your dreams?

        Do you think of them as merely whimsy, things to be forgotten,
laughed about? Or do you sit and analyze, picking them apart, trying to
find deeper meaning? Whatever the case, when the first moments of life
creep back into you after a dreaming rest, it as if a layer is falling
into place. A slice of existence, like a transparency, covering you up.

        Come. Dream with me.

                                <---->

                  Inversed World Productions presents...
                         in assosciation with
                            Improfanfic...

                             Dream Tides
                          Verse 1: The Locus
              Story Concept and Adaptation by Todd Harper

                                <---->

        Jamie sat at a corner table, sipping a hot chocolate.  His luggage
- a suitcase and a small backpack - lay beside his chair, while he idly
read a book. Despite himself, he couldn't resist plunking down in the
first coffee house he could find in a new town. It gave him time to adapt,
to unwind. To observe.

        His eyes fell upon someone rather reservedly glancing at the menu
over the counter, hands clasped behind his back. He had the look of
someone who's definitely small town trapped in big city, dark eyes wide as
he took in what was available and fended off attempts of the staff to
assist him with meek, mumbled requests.

        Jamie chuckled faintly, and let his eyes drift to the door. It
opened as a girl bumbled her way in...pushing it open with a small grunt,
swathed in a thick sweater and long self-consciously concealing skirt, a
tasteless orange all around.

        He noticed the smock wrapped around her neck as she reached up to
readjust the thick glasses adorning her face as she made her way in...and
cringed as she accidentally dropped the small legion of books that had
rested on that arm. She bent over to reclaim them while balancing her
other armload of books precariously, scuffling nervously the entire time.

        Putting down his book, Jamie stood and moved to help her, smiling
faintly. She was kneeling low, trying to collect her books one-handed,
shuffling them slightly closer before her binder flipped open, sprawling
out sheet after sheet of blank filler paper.

        Ooohing nervously, and realizing what a fantastic idiot she must
look, the girl frantically tried to clean up, only making more of a mess
in the process. It was only when Jamie's hand slipped into her line of
sight that she finally looked up, smiling witlessly and trying to run
damage control for her pride. "Uh...hi."

        Smiling, Jamie brushed a hand through his hair, handing her a
large, obscenely thick book. "Backpacks are great for this kind of thing,
you know," he said with a slight wink. His attention on the girl, he
didn't notice as a figure sat down at his then-vacant table, seemingly
without knowing.

        The girl looked flustered, stammering as she spoke. "W...well,
yeah! Um, yes. I would have brought one...but I didn't think I'd NEED one,
and...well, I guess I DID, and now..." She swallowed, then blushed as she
focused back on the pile of paper and books, attempting to restore a bit
of order to the chaotic mass.

        Laughing lightly, Jamie bent down and helped the girl gather the
rest of her things, including the pair of glasses that had slipped from
her nose to land on top of the pile. "Well, lesson learned, right? My name
is Jamie. Yours?"

        The girl stood up slowly as Jamie returned the other half of her
books to her waiting arms, and smiled sheepishly. "Nerissa," she replied
softly, fighting down the stammer. "An exchange student, from England."
There was a moment of pause, before the leaning tower of books in her arms
made a dangerous wobble.

        Jamie sweatdropped. "Maybe we should sit down." He made a half
turn, sweeping an arm. "You're welcome to join...me..." His normally
confident voice was suddenly cut off as his dark green eyes settled upon
his table...and the figure now occupying one of the seats.

        He vaguely recognized the boy as the same who had been ordering
when he first looked around, but now that he was up close details made
themselves apparent. He was short, unathletic, pale...the pale of fine
china, as if he would shatter under the weight of a heavy gaze. His
close-cut brown hair hung over luminous indigo eyes that stared at the
table, as if he was wishing to sink into the floor.

        "It looks like you already have company," Nerissa said, with
guileless curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, regarding the current
occupant of Jamie's table.

        The boy blinked, looking up at Jamie and Nerissa as they eyeballed
him, and the pale face flushed bright red as he realized he'd sat at
someone's table. He hastily scrambled to collect his drink, eyes boring
holes in the table as he exclaimed in a high-pitched, somewhat breathy
voice, "I'm sorry...really sorry..."

        Overcome with confusion and a bit of embarrassment, Jamie waved
his hands in front of him. "No, no, it's fine...the more, the merrier, I
guess." He moved to pull a chair out for Nerissa quickly, acting as if
nothing had happened. "Have a seat."

        Nerissa shook her head, taking a step back. "It's fine...you've
already got company. And I've got studying to do." She smiled as wanly as
possible, though her nervousness made it a lopsided, confused attempt.
"Thanks again for your help."

        There was a moment of silence as the British girl walked away,
stumbling her way to a vacant table without, miraculously, spilling any of
her precious cargo. The boy sitting at Jamie's table finally broke the
silence. "I drove your friend away...sorry..."

        At that comment, Jamie's eyes shifted over to Nerissa, who had
settled in and proceeded to barricade herself in with a wall of education,
books upon books blocking all but the top of her head from sight.

        "We'd only just met," he explained with a sigh, sitting down.
"Apparently, it's my day to meet strangers." He looked at the boy for a
moment, who cringed under the scrutiny, then coughed. "So are you a
student in this town?"

        "Yes," he answered with a nod. "I'm a fr-freshman, transferring in
from upstate this year..." There was a dark, pregnant pause before he
spoke again. "You're much nicer than the type of person I'm used to
dealing with."

        Jamie smiled faintly. "It's as easy to be nice as to be cruel, and
in the long run, far more enjoyable."

        Nerissa, for her part, seemed absorbed in trying to avoid the
wrath of whatever deity had cursed her so, flipping absently through a
battered copy of "Origin of Species".

        Jamie's companion nodded. "Most of the time, when people
were...*are*...nice to me, they want something in return. Usually to make
fun of me." The boy, who had been just a moment again raising his head, as
if Jamie were drawing him out, leveled his gaze back into his cup."

        Jamie nodded sagely. "It's sad, but the world is full of people
like that." He extended a hand. "Jamie Nelson. Nice to meet you."

        There was a blink as his companion recoiled for a moment, not
taking the hand, but finally bringing his eyes up to meet Jamie's: a dark
indigo color, full of depth. "Y...you're Jamie Nelson?"

        Jamie blinked. "Yeah..." He looked around, not exactly certain why
this seemed important, but considering the tenor of his day, he was
prepared for anything. "They can't have heard of me as far away as
upstate," he teased.

        "No, it's just..."

        The boy's response was cut off by the sound of the shop's
doorbell. A medium-sized blonde girl, pretty in her own fashion with
blue-rimmed eyes as grey as stormclouds, her clothes somewhat boyish,
joined the line at the order counter. She leaned on an ornate wooden cane,
which aided her slow steps.

        "...you're my new roommate," he finished quietly, tearing his gaze
away from the girl who had entered.

        Jamie blinked as his companion, then laughed and rubbed a hand
across his forehead, smiling goofily. "Wow, now that's another coincidence
in an already interesting day." He extended his hand again, trying to make
amends.

        There was a slight raising of brown-haired head over the tip of a
genetics book. Nerissa was, very pointedly, not listening in. That would
have been rude; she certainly did not know, for example, that Jamie had
inadvertently run into his new roommate. Frowning at her own thoughts, she
turned back to her book, chewing a lip in frustration.

        The other remarkable occupant of the coffee shop silently placed a
small white card on the formica counter, with a vague, half-formed smile.
The counter person blinked at the card, then read it with a curious air
and walked off to perform some task.

        Jamie's companion nodded faintly, attempting a smile but not doing
all that well. It didn't appear to Jamie that he smiled much to begin
with. He slowly fingered a silver bangle - a crucifix - around his neck.
"Err, r-right. It's definitely interesting, running into you here..."

        A sudden sound caught the attention of the two roommates before
the conversation could continue. The mysterious girl had claimed her
coffee with a half-smile, and was in the process of making a complicated
turn. Carrying the hot coffee and using her cane to get into the right
position was difficult, and it showed as her face creased with lines of
stress while she edged out of line.

        She had bent to take a small sip of the drink, when from seemingly
nowhere an ox of a man slammed into her shoulder, sending steaming hot
coffee all over, dousing her mouth, her chin, her light blue blouse. Her
blonde head whipped around in an instant to glare daggers at her attacker,
grey eyes widen with pain, but the large man simply laughed, shaking his
head.
        "Ooops, sorry, Hesse," he said, tossing the comment over his
shoulder as he walked away. "Maybe you should *tell* people when you're
gonna block their way." He laughed as he walked away, unable to see the
tear trickling down her cheek.

        Jamie's green eyes washed over the scene, and he frowned, standing
and pushing in his chair. "Inconsiderate jerk," he mumbled quietly, then
looked at his new roommate, whose pale face betrayed a look of combined
horror and relief: good that it didn't happen to him, bad that it happened
at all. "I'll be right back."

        Nerissa's face finally became visible over her barricade at the
bandying about of such hateful words. She adjusted her glasses a bit, face
contorting in sympathy at the scalding liquid all over the blonde's upper
body. Her eyes darkened a bit, as she felt compelled to act...and was
saved at the last moment as Jamie stepped in. Sighing quietly, she
returned to her books, hoping to put the incident from her mind.

        Jamie approached the girl, gathering a wad of napkins on his way.
"Hey...are you okay?"

        His companion blinked, eyes following Jamie as he stood up and
wandered over. He bit his lip, as if thinking of something to say, but
deciding not to...some kind of past pain bubbling up behind his eyes as he
closed them and turned to the table again, staring at his cup.

        The blonde turned amazingly expressive eyes on Jamie as he
approached. Slowly, with the ease of practice and placing what's left of
her coffee on the counter, she shook her head and wiped her mouth. Her
blouse was completely ruined, but there was little to do about it.
Gratefulness and hurt flickered together in her gaze as she tapped her way
toward Jamie slowly.

        The boy handed her the napkins, wincing as he saw the skin redden
where the blazingly hot coffee has washed over it. He kept two of the
napkins for himself, asking a clerk for cold water.

        Leaning on her cane with one hand, the girl slowly dragged the
napkins across the affected areas with the other. Wincing as the paper
brushed across the burned skin, she looked for a chair, the closest one
unused, heading toward it.

        When she sat down, she found Jamie's hand and face in her line of
sight, holding a damp pair of napkins. "Here...it's better than nothing
for the burns, I think." Sitting down, he shook his head and glanced out
at the busy street, trying to find the assailant. "Don't let 'em get to
you."

        The blonde nodded again, making a bit of a shrug with her
shoulders and immediately regretting it, wincing in pain. Her eyes
indicated her gratefulness again, but still she did not speak a word. Her
lips twitched slightly but formed no speech. She turned her face downward,
exhaling slowly through her nose.

        Jamie blinked, confused at the silence. "Are you alright...?"

        His comment was quickly followed by one from behind, in a breathy,
quiet voice. "I'm sure the city's not so bad, given time..." The speaker,
Jamie's still-unintroduced roommate, had quietly seemed to appear at the
table. Cupped in both hands was a steaming cup of coffee, mostly identical
to the one the blonde victim had lost.

        She offered a shy little smile to the newcomer, nodding to Jamie
after accepting the coffee. Raising a delicate, slender hand, she made a
helpless, circular gesture toward her throat; her eyebrows twitched
faintly as she tried to convey her message through body language alone.

        Jamie smiled at the boy bearing coffee, then turned back to the
blonde. "See? Not everyone's a jerk." He blinked, then caught her meaning
after a moment of deliberation. "You're...mute..." He paused, then frowned
as he remembered what was said to her. "That guy knew you, didn't he? He
was teasing you about it..."

        She nodded, her eyes lighting up as Jamie appeared to understand.
She fished into her dress pocket, producing a small white card, which she
handed to him; it read "I can hear you fine, but I can't speak." Below was
space for some other short message to be written. Jamie's final comment
was answered with an emphatic nod, sticking out her tongue to indicate
disgust.

        With a sudden look of inspiration, she began to pat herself down,
frantically, Jamie looking on in confusion until she pantomimed scribbling
something in midair. He, too, began looking for something to write with,
until the blonde bit her lip and, frowning, made a quick dancing motion
with one hand.

        Blinking, Jamie looked up as she repeated the gesture. He looked
to his quiet, brooding roommate, who could only shrug shyly. He shook his
head at the girl as she repeated the gesture several times.. "I don't
understand..."

        "She said 'thank you'," came a timid, feminine voice from across
the room. The others turned to see Nerissa standing nearby, hands folded
in front of her after pushing up the thick black lenses she wore. "Sign
language."

        The blonde blinked, turning toward the voice, and then launching
into a complex whirl of fingers and hands that lasted for at least a
minute.

        Nerissa wobbled a bit, shaking her head and adjusting her glasses
again. Jamie smiled as she stepped closer, glad that her earlier moment of
awkwardness was slowly fading in the minds of those present.

        Clearing her throat, the bookworm glanced at Jamie and his
companion, then sighs. "She says her name is...Danica?" She paused,
glancing at the mute for confirmation, who nodded with a smile. "And she
really appreciates you both being so nice to her. People usually
aren't..." she said quietly in closing, not without some degree of
sympathy.

        Jamie glanced back and forth between the two, trying to follow the
dance of Danica's hands and giving up with a sigh. He smiled at the mute,
shaking his head. "Like I told..." He paused, glancing at his roommate.
"Dear god, I've forgotten your name."

        "It's Asa," the pale boy said quietly, looking away. "Asa
Morganstern."

        Jamie grinned. "Right. Like I was telling Asa, it's as easy to be
nice as not."

        Danica smiled, then in an extremely overexaggerated gesture, as if
trying to get her to hear a quiet word, she urged Nerissa closer, pointing
to a fourth, empty chair.

        Blinking through her thick glasses at the flurry of friendly
people invading her life lately, Nerissa stood in shock for a moment,
prompting a quick burst of sign from Danica that Nerissa struggled to
understand, and after a moment she spread her hands before her in
embarrassment. "No, no, it's okay," she said quietly. After an
uncomfortable moment, she hunkered down in a chair next to Asa, the two
shy people an interesting study placed next to each other.

        There was a moment of silence as the British girl felt all eyes on
her, and then she flushed crimson. "My books! I totally forgot my books."
Jumping up, she skittered over to her table, looking at the intimidating
mass of academia with fear. In her haste and the awkward situation, she
made one sweeping grab for the bigger items...a miscalculated move that
sent the entire collection flying, leaving Nerissa concerned and confused
in a storm of paper and hardcovers. "Oh, not again..." she wailed.

        However, when she looked up she was surprised to find her three
companions (of sorts) already at work on the mess: Danica with a silent
smile, Asa with a blushing, sheepish look and Jamie with a good-natured
laugh. "I think you really should invest in a bookbag..." he teased with a
grin.

        Outside, the autumn afternoon blew crisp, clean air through the
streets full of people, as inside one small coffee shop, forces began to
align.

                                <---->

        The world was misty...cloudy. Uncertain, and full of promise. The
waking world hald long since faded away and only the dream remained. That
was where he found himself. The air was almost amniotic, the entire place
thick with magic, science...the potential of mankind. A dark, greyscale
world in which he was the only spot of color. A canvas waiting to be
filled in.

        He vaguely recognized the place as Allen Memorial Gardens,
although the name meant curiously little to him. It was, however, a spot
of beauty. Plants of all descriptions seemed to sway in a wind that he
couldn't feel for a moment, then were still. It was all muted, still...in
stasis. The grey sky full of dark white stars, the still waters of a fish
pond. As if the universe had stopped...except for him.

        A piece of the grey void shifted and moved, forming into a spiral,
then a shell, and finally a pink lotus that blossomed from the still
pond's surface. From it formed a girl, her pale feet lightly floating
above the water, without disturbing the charcoal-sketch surroundings. She
was a tiny, slender thing with short, choppy silver-grey hair and cloaked
in ashen rags. Her eyes were most striking, however: diamond and
pupilless, shimmering with contained rainbows, quietly searching the
surroundings.

        Following her gaze led him to discover someone else. Sitting with
back to the world atop a gazebo, was a short, pale figure, a wooden staff
decorated as that of Hermes - with entwined snakes - laying across his
lap. His eyes were turned to the heavens, as if he were watching, waiting
for something.

        It was then that he felt it. Something...awakening. As if there
was someone *inside* him, giving directions, riding him like a sort of
shell, a vehicle. It was confused. It had never seen others before...it
was only used to the wide expanse of grey sky. Not color.

        It wanted to learn. So it awoke, and took over. It gave him a name
- Chokmah. And it filled him to the core. The dark, unexplored edge of the
universe called to him. The desire to know and understand filled him. The
need to see, to experience wrapped around him like a cloak.

        There was a quiet moment of birth, as he came into being. Wearing
comfortable traveling clothes, and carrying nothing else. Then the
universe accepted him, and he had always been present.

        The grey-haired girl smiled, giggling, as she sprang from the pool
to land on the stone path of the garden, a runesword made of pewter
strapped to her back with silver braided cords. Chokmah looked upon her,
and felt something bubble up inside. Mercurial, quick. Her name was Binah.

        "Neat!" Binah giggled, glancing between Chokmah and the distant
figure atop the gazebo, dressed in black and white. "People!"

        Chokmah sighed, inclining his head at Binah curiously. His deep
emerald eyes gazed at her, as if he could draw understanding of her merely
from looking. "I've never seen you here before...but yet, I know your
name. I don't understand."

        She grinned, sticking out her tiny hand after wiping it on the
jagged, faded edges of her grey cloak. "Me neither. Cool, huh?"

        The dark figure upon his high perch turned, eyes encompassing the
giggly young maiden and the curious newcomer both, swinging his legs
around. His clothes were archaic; a too-large white tunic over black
pants, black sandals, and white cuffs of cloth on his forearms, as if the
sleeves of a long-sleeved shirt had been cut through the middle. He
continued to watch silently.

        Chokmah gazed at Binah's hand for a moment, then smiled. Something
felt...right...about dealing with her, talking with her. "Sure," he said,
taking her hand and shaking it. "I didn't mean to seem rude. It was just
all so...overwhelming. And you need to admit, you certainly
are...different."

        She smiled at him, as if it were the nicest thing anyone had ever
said to her. "Thank you!" she replied, beaming. With a crunch of gravel,
she turned on her heel and locked the diamond gaze on the dark watcher
sitting above. "Geez..."

        There was a pause as the boy in black and white studied the pair
even as they studied him. Something nagged at the back of Chokmah's
mind...something familiar, something with a hint of tragedy. He needed to
know more, and no name came to his mind as it had with Binah.

        The mystery figure quietly stood, then took a step *off* the
gazebo. Instead of falling straight down, he merely floating, as if the
wind were supporting him, blowing his clothes about. When he landed, his
voice was quiet but seemed to carry perfectly in the grey haze. "I'd
always thought...it was my fate to be alone."

        Binah tilted her head, slowly turning upside-down as she tried to
understand an idea that had suddenly struck her as curiously foreign.
Despite her defiance of gravity, the loose grey fabric of her cloak stayed
rigidly in place. "Nobody's alone all the time," she said, after many
moments of serious thought.

        Chokmah nodded, stepping forward in a gesture of goodwill.
Something was kicking him forward, driving him to introduce himself. To
learn. "But it seems like we've found each other, haven't we?" This
produced a rapid headnod of agreement from Binah.

        The staff-bearing boy merely nodded, impassive and quiet as he
made his way around the pond, toward the other two occupants of the
gardens but more 'nearby' than 'near'.

        Binah, still hanging casually upside-down as if it were the most
normal thing in the world, folded her legs into an indian-style sit and
hmmmed to herself. "So what are we doing?" she asked, bluntly. "Why are we
here?"

        The comment hung in the air for a moment, as if answering the
question required an inordinate amount of thought and deliberation.
Finally, Chokmah broke the silence with a tenuous voice, sounding unsure
of his answer. "I feel the need to wander. To learn, and see new things."
He smiled faintly. "I guess you two count."

        This seemed to satisfy Binah, who righted herself and drifted over
to him, producing a pink lotus from seemingly nowhere and holding it out
to be taken. "Here!" she said, proud of herself. "This is new."

        Chokmah smiled, letting his finger drift along the inside of the
bright pink flower's petals, his eyes heavy lidded as if he could derive
some great universal truth from a simple flower. After a moment, he looked
up and directed his smile at the grey-clad girl. "Thank you."

        There was another moment of silence, until the quiet voice of the
dark-clad boy rang out in its curiously sonorous way. "I don't know why I
am here," he admitted, glancing first at Chokmah, and then at Binah. "I've
always done nothing but wait. Staring at the sky...wondering if Heaven has
an answer for me." The dark indigo of his pupils, visible at such close
range, seemed flecked with small stars.

        Binah slowly regarded the pale boy with what seemed like pity
before floating gently through the air to his side. She kissed his cheek,
her voice soft but suddenly filled with wisdom, her tone deeper and more
mature. "Oh, Yesod..." she said, quietly. "Why would Heaven wish to
answer, when the answer means death?" As she pulled away, she smiled,
leaving another lotus in his hair.

        Chokmah blinked to himself, looking at the stunned youth in black
and white, who suddenly appeared very vulnerable and childlike, looking at
his hands and taking slow, shallow breaths. Yesod...was that his name?

        For a moment, Chokmah reflected on his own 'name'. Chokmah.
Something inside him rebelled, thinking it couldn't possibly be a suitable
name. It sounded Hebrew. And yet, something inside him spoke up when he
voiced the slightest doubt: "But it is," he whispered aloud, as much to
hear himself speak as anything else. "It's what I do. It's what I am.
Questing for wisdom." And he realized there was nothing better to call
him. He looked at Yesod for a moment after the thought rippled through his
mind, Binah's answer to his unspoken question reverberating in his ears.
Death...

        The pale face had flushed faint crimson at the kiss, as if the
sensation of 'touching' were completely new and untried. He closed his
eyes, shaking his head. "Maybe...sometimes, when I close my eyes, that's
what I see..." He looked up, and in the corner of his gaze the bright pink
lotus blanched to a stark white, slowly but surely, until it matched the
color of his tunic.

        This seemed to upset Binah, who pouted, conjuring up another
flower with a sigh. "You don't like flowers...?"

        Yesod paused, opening his eyes and glancing up. He blinked at the
question, then looked away with a sight. "No, I do like flowers..." he
said, as much trying to convince himself as the floating, grey-haired
girl. "This is just how things end up around me." He glanced back at Binah
as if he weren't worthy of doing so. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt
your flower."

        "It's okay," the girl said with a smile, changing moods quickly.
"Every flower that dies grows again somewhere else. Nothing is wasted.
It's just the way of things. " She yawned a bit, stretching, and turned
the lotus in her hands into a rose, then a small crystal ball, and finally
a violet and blue-winged butterfly, which flew off into the grey sky.

        The pale boy shifted the caduceus in his hands, smiling faintly at
Binah...the first real display of any emotion yet from him, save appearing
contrite. Eventually the star-flecked gaze shifted to Chokmah. "You seem
familiar, somehow. Not that it's possible that we've met..."

        He could do no more than shrug helplessly, though in the back of
his mind, the same inkling was occurring to him. Not the same sense of
danger he would feel from someone who represented 'destruction', but
rather a half-remembered tinge of sorrow. He remembered, for a moment,
Binah's comment that destruction was part of the natural cycle, and it
eased his mind slightly. Not wanting to slam the gates shut, he smiled a
bit. "You, too, in a way, but I don't remember you. So why not make the
best of meeting now?"

        The grey-haired girl blinked, moving to stand between the two
boys. "We always meet like this. Even though this is the first time we've
met." She frowned a bit as both looked to her in confusion. "Don't you
remember?"

        Yesod sighed, shaking his head as he turned away. A nearby lilac
bush caught his eye and he stepped toward it, looking at it curiously.
"No," he admits, sullen. "My memory isn't very clear." He took a branch of
the lilac in his hand, and was surprised to find a faint violet creep into
the grey plant. "I just remember...quiet. Peaceful, pervasive quiet." By
the time the sentence had been finished, the lilac bough had crumbled to
dust.

        Chokmah, for his part, was completely confused by the question,
but before he could ask more about it, Binah had begun to look bored,
yawning.

        She took to the path, pewter sword on her back bouncing on her
shoulder. After a moment, however, she put a finger to her lips and
traipsed back, now sprouting a pair of snowy white wings. "Just to see
what it feels like," she said to Chokmah, with a knowing smile.

        He continued to stare, however. Everyone seemed to be displaying
signs of...if not occult power, then some way of manipulating the strange
surroundings. He felt awed and wonderful, and perhaps a tinge jealous.
"How did you do that?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

        The girl ummmed, fixing her diamond-prism eyes on Chokmah; her
shoulders moved in an approximation of a shrug, the effort changed by the
wings. "I just can...is that bad?" A flicker of worry played across her
childlike features. "Do you want me not to...?"

        He shook his head quickly, holding out his hands. "No, don't stop.
It's fine. Just...I've never seen anyone do something like that before."
He turned to Yesod, who was quietly examining the lilac bush. "Or your
floating trick, either. I must admit, I wish I could such things."

        Binah smiled. "I bet you could do it, too. You ever bother to
try?"

        Just as he was realizing that, no, he hadn't, a light laugh was
heard, coming from the wrought-iron gates at the east edge of the gardens.
Like every voice he'd encountered today, it seemed...tantalizingly
familiar.

        "I bet he can't," it said, taunting, amused.

        Chokmah had seemed about to answer his little friend, when the
voice interrupted him. Frowning, somewhat at the intrusion, and somewhat
at a stranger's casual dismissal of his potential, he turned to face the
newcomer. The grey-haired girl had run behind him, and peeked out from
behind his legs with her wide, crystalline eyes. He heard the crunch of
stones under sandals, and assumed Yesod had turned as well.

        The woman smiled, standing with her back to the gates and
presenting a striking profile. She seemed as if she could be Chokmah's
female twin; their features were equally as sharp, eyes equally are large,
but where Chokmah's were luminous with curiosity, hers were shadowed in
mystery. Her hair was a shocking, vibrant green that fell to her
shoulders, contrasted with the plain beige business suit/skirt combination
she wore.

        Her lips curled into a sneer, and the shadows around her seemed to
swim, curling around her like dark fingers. "I bet he can't because he's
not learned how yet. And to you, dear brother, learning is everything,
after all." She glanced around the assemblage with amusement. "Though how
the end of the world or the cycle of change would teach you anything are
beyond me."

        Binah hmphed, emboldened as she stepped out from behind Chokmah
and stuck out her tongue at the woman. "Meanie. You just don't believe in
people's inner power, is all." She didn't seem afraid; it occurred to
Chokmah that children could be surprisingly strong when it was
required...but as she marched up to the green-haired intruder with defiant
eyes, he also wondered just how likely it was that she was a true 'child'.

        All of these, however, were secondary to the intense feeling of
familiarity that the shadowed woman evoked; it was if every word she said
was coming from his own lips, as if every action she made was old and worn
to him. What he hated most, however, was how he felt drawn to her, like
the opposite pole of a magnet.

        The woman laughed, walking into the gardens proper and smiling at
Chokmah before looking down at Binah with a patronizing smile, of one
talking to a small who has no real possibility of understanding your
words. "Little one, you don't know me very well. I believe in the power of
people. Indeed, I think the capacity of human beings to support me is
vast."

        Her sharp, black eyes turned to Chokmah again. "You should know
me. You can't remember, though." He frowned, and she seemed to take
delight in his moment of discomfort as she revealed his secret. "It's
alright. I'm...forgettable. Hardly even know I'm there, really." As she
spoke this, the shadows seemed to...writhe, like living serpents. The dark
places of the garden, which had once seemed inviting with the promise of
exploration, now seemed like black holes, determined to suck in anyone who
came too close.

        Finally, the green-haired stranger let her eyes fall on Yesod, who
regarded her with remarkable impassivity. "You should know me too, but you
can't remember either. How could you possibly know them all? You killed
them, and there were so many." She raised a finger to her lips, closing
her eyes. "You killed me. It was...wonderful," she said, in a low and
sultry voice.

        He could only stare at her in wide-eyed horror, unknowing or
uncaring of the shadow serpents that twined around him, insidiously, so
careful and gentle he hardly knew they were there. "No..." he said,
breathily, and looked down at his hands. Sure enough, they rand deep with
pooling, crimson blood which dripping between his fingers, staining
everything it touched with the rich red of life's vital fluids.
"Killed..." the pale youth whispered, his caduceus falling to the ground
with a clatter as he sank to his knees, confused.

        None of this seemed to phase Binah, who had (in childish response)
decided if the woman was to ignore her, then she would ignore the woman.
The lithe young frame darted between trees and flowers, her small hands
drifting over the landscape like paintbrushes, making them burst into
vibrant color wherever she passed. Equally, however, some of these plants
crumbled instantly to dust, returning to the earth.

        Suddenly struck with a feeling of intense anger, Chokmah moved to
stand in front of the dumbstruck Yesod, and threw an arm out to his side.
He had no idea what he could do...unarmed, and not understanding the
strange powers these people seemed to possess...but he wasn't about to let
this continue. "You're confusing him on purpose. You're here only to hurt
people, to spread doubt. I can tell."

        The woman blinked, putting a hand to her chest in feigned pain.
She walked slowly to a tree that Binah had just recently 'brought to
life', letting her fingers drift over it. As her skin touched the bark,
the tree's colors remained, but faded...muted, dull. "Why say that,
brother?" she asked nonchalantly. "Lots of people put their faith in me."

        "Leave them alone," Binah whispered softly, staring daggers at the
green-haired woman, showing the first signs that she had found a way to
truly get at the strange youth.

        Confused and upset, unknowing as to why this stranger would call
him 'brother', Chokmah shook his head to clear it and pointed at her
accusingly. "Even if they do...all we three have done is converse, and you
waltz in and disrupt that for no reason than your own amusement! Why
should I trust you?"

        Shaking his head and gripping the caduceus for support, Yesod
raised his head, forcing himself upright. Streams of red ran across his
tunic, the staff, the ground, his arms...he seemed unhurt, at least in a
physical sense. "You should leave..." he said softly. Unthreateningly. As
if it were a fact she simply needed to realize.

        Her only response was a hearty, shrill laughter that made
Chokmah's teeth grind together. The shadowy woman shook her head at Binah,
who was staring in dumbfounded horror at the faded tree. "Little one, not
everything can be huge and vibrant, like you want. The world...MAN...is
not ready for it yet. They may never be." With that last, her sharp eyes
turned once again to her 'brother'.

        "What do you *want*?" Chokmah snapped, tense and upset.

        Binah had closed her eyes, her brave little girl act long since
gone, her lips tight and eyes hooded as she cradled the tree, trying to
coax her own brand of life back into it.

        Despite the flaring emotions all around her, the intruder remained
calm, smiling her maddeningly placid smile at Chokmah. "What does anybody
want? To see my ideas free. To see people enter into my philosophy. To
find Truth. Isn't that what we're both after?"

        He seemed about to respond, when his vision suddenly became
cloudy. The garden remained the constant, but everything else began to
shift. Great chunks of stone, earth, and plantlife erupted from the
ground, falling upwards...in fact, it was as if the entire landscape were
falling apart, into bits and pieces. He felt pressure, and found the
green-haired woman's arms around him, felt cold shadows prickling his
skin...

        In a flash, the scene changed. Still the seeming apocalypse
continued, but instead it was the pale, dark Yesod that grasped him
tightly like a child needed comfort from a parent, while the young Binah
danced through the garden, planting seeds wherever the grey earth broke
away, a colorful new world springing up from underneath...figured waited,
just beyond his vision...familiar, but too far to recognize...

        In another moment, it was all gone. Reality, or what he perceived
as reality, Chokmah thought bitterly, had returned. He looked at the
intruder with undisguised scorn. "You want to destroy all this. You want
to break it all apart."

        The woman laughed, stepping against a tree and wrapping herself in
shadow. She smiled and shook her head, as if sad at her 'brother's
apparent delusion. "No, that honor belongs to another. But if you're truly
the person that you mean to be, then we'll be meeting again..." In an
instant, she fell backwards into the enveloping darkness, and was gone.

        A moment passed before it was Chokmah's turn to fall to his knees,
staring at the ground. It was a moment before he felt a light touch on his
shoulder, and turned his face to find the red-soaked hand of Yesod,
tentative and cold, trying to comfort him.

        "I had a vision," he murmured. "A vision I didn't understand." The
gravel beneath his fingers felt tantalizingly real, an anchor, something
to push himself into reality with. "I'm afraid. I have to admit it. What I
saw...maybe what she *showed* me...I'm not sure anymore."

        "Then you'll need to find out..." said a voice, which he
recognized as Binah's. He turned from watching Yesod's feathery grip, and
saw the little girl curling up into a lotus bloom, winking. "No one's ever
really sure. But if you believe you are, that's what counts..." Soon, the
flower closed in on itself, as she was gone.

        There was a pause, before Yesod spoke. "I don't know who's my
friend or who's my enemy..." He shook his head, leaning on his staff for
support, eyeing Chokmah with a mixture of suspicion and the need to be
comforted. "All I want to know is why...why I've been waiting all this
time..." As Chokmah watched, the red-splattered youth vanished into small
violet motes of light, fading away.

        Chokmah stood there a while, looking at the garden which had so
recently, in his sight, been destroyed. Some pieces of it, like an
unfinished painting, shone bright with color and vibrance...where others
seemed polluted by the stranger's shadows: dull, lifeless, barely holding
on to their color. It was hard for him to tell if that existence was
better or worse than the lifeless monochrome the rest of the world seemed
to exist in.

        His eyelids began to flutter, and an intense tiredness spread like
molasses across his body. The last sight he saw was the violet-blue
butterfly, flickering between Binah's flowers, a small spark of life in a
dead universe...

                                <---->

        The hot iron forge clanged as the solemn iron hammer struck,
sending a shower of white sparks than rained down, briefly illuminating
the otherwise unremarkable umbral gloom. The ever-present whir and hum of
the anachronistic metal works churning out bits and pieces of instant
consumer gratification floated in the background. An odd mix of modern and
pre-industrial, each wound about the other in a single, seamless machine.
The entire affair appeared to grow in on itself, smokestacks winding about
each other, streaking like Babel into the grey heavens above. The building
looked organic, as if it were in a constant state of self-improvement:
becoming faster, more efficient, more ergonomic. The chaff was left
behind, as the place continued to evolve and grow. The child of Progress.

        In the middle of the nigh-endless jungle of metal and stone sat an
oddly simple board room. Inside it, the purveyors of the splendorous
edifice sit amidst a sea of information of all types: holographic
projections of pie charts cast their multicolored glow on reams and reams
of paper reports. Easels with advertising slogans in a thousand languages
lay on their sides next to a high-tech wall projection unit. The room's
occupants were an almost farcical group of high-energy, power-suited folk,
congratulating each other in loud voices.

        At the very head of the room's long table, in a chair that was
more throne-like than anything else, sat Netzach. Her hands were folded
together on the desk, her legs neatly crossed. Although she appeared the
vision of composure and attention as her cadre of followers babbled on to
her, she was grinning like a Cheshire cat, a row of perfect white teeth
answering every favorable projection. Things were good. People were
clamoring for her favor...and Netzach was never happier than when people
were doing just that.

        She leaned her head against her hand as Progress displayed the
various schedules he had coming for the next day, the next month, the next
year. Everything in disarray, but the fiery passion of his plans was
impressive, to say the least. And, Netzach admitted, he got the job done.
Growth was up a significant number of percentage points since she'd taken
him under her wing. And, she noted with some amusement as she shifted
herself in her chair, he'd designed this marvelously circus-like office
setup. She yawned and placed her head against her hand as Efficiency made
a brief, concise presentation on her plans to keep costs down.

        As the group convened for coffee and donuts, she leaned back in
her chair, waiting for them to leave the office. She turned her chair,
looking through the strong plexiglass window behind her out into the
factory. A factory of abstracts, brought into reality by those under her
auspice, Netzach noted with satisfaction. A place where meaning was
created.

        In short, she was manufacturing Truth.

        Truth. The elusive goal. The word had little meaning, but Netzach
had long ago realized that Truth, and not 'truth', was something to be
sought. It was the ultimate expression of control. If you knew the Truth,
then nothing could stop you, because Truth was stronger than any of the
falsehoods humanity created to protect themselves. The Truth would set you
free.

        And so she'd set out to obtain it. When the world was young, she
gave her favor to Survival...and when she tired of him, when his game was
no longer productive, she moved to Faith. Now that Faith was beginning to
slip away into her own world, she'd settled on Progress. And Progress did
not disappoint. His momentum was insane...he charged forward, unheeding
and uncaring of the problems. He got things moving. It was no surprise
that Efficiency and Avarice, among many others, had flocked to his banner.

        A banner paid for by Netzach's hand. She smiled, looking at her
nails. Such a trifle, and yet...such a wondrous chaos. Mankind had tried
Order. He didn't like it, and neither did Netzach. She found it lacked
creativity. Chaos seemed so much more...fun.

        "Very soon," she smiled, parroting Progress' words. "Very, very
soon. And the Truth shall set thee free." She closed her eyes, humming a
song by the Eagles and leaning back in her chair.

        She missed the flash of green, and the smile, in the shadows.

                                <---->

[Afterword]

        -Upfront, this story is not entirely of my creation. The original
dreamworld concept and some of the characters are mine; however, this was
intended as a MUCK roleplay setting, and so the events presented here are
an adaptation of the content of two roleplay logs. Authorial credit is
also due to Carmen Spray, Mike Mazzoleni, and Rachel Blackman. Without
them, this starter wouldn't exist.

        -Thanks also to my numerous chat and email supproters and
prereaders (you are too numerous to mention, and you know who you are
^_^). Without YOU this starter would not exist.

        -A few comments on this story's tone. Dream Tides is presented, at
first, as two parallel but unrelated (for now, anyway) stories. The real
world, and the dream world. Eventually, they will merge and become one,
just as the preface of this part predicts. What this means is that an
author can write as much or as little as one of the stories as s/he
likes...someone more comfortable with the 'real' world can write more of
it, and vice versa. There's no rule saying both 'worlds' need to make
appearances in every seg.
        The point is that, until then, the author may do whatever he likes
to advance the story. The framework presented here is intended to be as
vague as possible to allow for maximum creativity. Hints were made as to
the identity of the 'Sephira' (A changed concept; see below), but they
should by no means be considered hard and fast rules. Note, for example,
that there is one more Sephira than there is a Dreamer.
        In revising this for potential indie-hood, I decided to take the
story back to its roots. The character names have been restored to Western
origins, for example. And I've abandoned the concept of 'embodied ideals'
and instead decided to name the characters after some of the ten Sephira
of the Life Tree (A part of the Kabbalah, and noticeable from some anime
such as Evangelion). I had thought that this might prevent a bit of
character bloat (Netzach could now be considered to be talking about mere
abstracts in her monologue, rather than 'actual people') and give more
direction for things like powers, ideas, characterization. What have you.
I think that keeping the two worlds ignorant of each other is still a good
suggestion, but whatever strikes your fancy.
        I cut the description of the original concept. I'd rather see
people develop it on their own.

        -The informational page I used for the descriptions of the 10
Sephira can be found at
http://www.vedicreader.com/articles/qabalah/tree1.htm (read through the
different pages one at a time).

        -In closing, thanks for reading. VOTE KEI IN '00!
        -Todd Harper <lina@sandwich.net>