The Cold

Word spreads quickly through the crowd that there is going to be a fire tonight. Everyone in the parking lot speaks in hushed whispers, shivering in the cold antarctic night and wondering whether they should obey the hotel staff's instructions and go back to their rooms until it is time to evacuate. I decide I will go back to my room and pack up my things, and put on some warmer clothes so I won't freeze to death after the evacuation.
Up on the tenth floor I sit on the edge of the bed next to my suitcase, waiting for the phone call. Impatiently, I get up and look out the window to the parking lot and swimming pools below. I can just make out small specks of light from the lanterns of the nervous guests who refused to go back to their rooms.
I hear movement at the door- that must be him- the arsonist. I dash over and fling the door open, but he is gone; I just catch the last echoes of his laugh. I will beat him out of the hotel. My little sister and I take after him, alternating between flying and skating down the spiral ramps and staircases. The hotel has an old feel, though it has been recently renovated, reminiscent of the hotel from The Shining. The arsonist has taken the elevator, which is a stupid thing when there is about to be a fire. As we make our way to the ground floor we seem to switch roles several times from pursuing and being pursued- all I know is the rush of fear and excitement that means I will win.

In the parking lot I squint through the darkness, trying to discern my group of friends from the rest of the crowd. I determine I've got the right group, and out my arms around their shoulders, and turn my head back to the building- I can, now that I'm safe. Every window is dark, with the curtains open, and no sign of flame. I am surprised that everyone actually remembered the fire drill instructions from elementary school, forming a line and the last person out turning off the light. Still gazing at the building I say, "It's good that everyone made it out alright." I can hardly hear my own voice over the whistling wind.

At home, I prepare to go to an outdoor, middle-of-the-night dance. Our house feels huge and empty, and while it is well-lit, the darkness and cold press in. My mom is especially excited for me, running around with the camera like it's prom. She wants me to look nice, but I just want to be warm. I can't seem to find enough clothes, because I left most of them at home, not expecting to go to some crazy dance. I gather it will involve some freeform skiing and dancing in a snow-covered water park-type setting, and I remind my mother, "You know I haven't skied in years. How am I suppposed to stand upright, let alone spin around in circles with someone while sliding downhill?" She says, "Prepare for lots of bruises!" My friends wait at the door, all ready to go. At the last minute I decide I can't wear a windbreaker to a formal dance, and my shoes don't match my outfit.

I stand just below that exit ramp coming off of the West Seattle Brigde onto 99 that curves so sharply that you always end up squished next to the person next to you on the 120 to downtown. Part of it has disconnected, so that the ramp does not meet the freeway. Kris is up there on his bicycle, perched on the edge of the freeway, doing some odd maneuvers as a part of race. I wonder why he would do something like that to his bike. In a few seconds he is done and comes down to the basement of my house, located just under the ramp. We gather in the laundry room with Beth and Kellen. My mom bustles around doing laundry, she immediately gets them all engaged reading old Balderdash responses. Kris also shows them his latest project: his front wheel that he has begun threading with fine silver wire. It looks more like a sculpture, with an uneven web that bends the flimsy gold-foiled frame.
Determined to finally give Kris back his shirt, I tap him on the shoulder, but alas, I don't have the shirt with me. I do, however, tell him that I have something else from my dad that he might be interested in. I squeeze past my mom to get to a giant spool on the table and pull off a few pieces of the thick wire. I show Kris and his face lights up. "Copper wire!" he exclaims, as if it was just the breakthrough he needed to make the piece complete.
We all squeeze on to the piano bench and play fragments of pieces we remember from our childhood lessons.

Characters Having Recently Appeared In Something Else

I dash up the dirt path, there is someone I have to warn.

I see him! The dog-boy, a dirty, wild child of about six stands in the middle of the path up ahead. I slow my pace, but as I approach the boy backs away. All the while, I try to make him understand that he is in great danger, but he is not familiar with spoken language. When I get too close, he belligerently throws dog poop at me. I cringe, but thankfully his aim is quite poor. As I raise my head again, I see him dash off on a side path. I follow him, entering a winding maze of ground cover. I pick my way after him. His filthy little backside disappears into the trees at the bottom of the slope, and a crack of lightning announces the arrival of the person I was trying to warn him about.
It is Tommy Lee Jones. "Where is the boy?" he booms, glaring at me from the top of the hill. I shake my head. He starts down the path after me. I panic and dive down the hill, and reaching the bottom, I pull out my lighter and hold it to a leaf of the ground cover. The plant being very flammable, or soaked in gasoline, the entire clearing goes up in flame. I don't know if Tommy Lee Jones escapes a firey doom, but the dog-boy is safe for now.

Impressive and Ever-So-Useful Powers

I sing, "The Same Fire" to Alex, but he is unresponsive. Instead I have just set Shorewood Elementary on fire. I feel guilty about the Ficus, since they have been thriving recently.

I am back at Burien Dance, in pointe class. Bridgette seems to have trouble remembering her choreography for our dance, and when she does it is terrible. We waltz diagonally across the floor for at least twelve counts, and collide into a can can line.
Class ends, and I go out to the lobby. Ginny, a girl I used to dance with is there waiting for the next class, and she asks me, "Are you ever going to come visit my Grandma's furniture liquidation business? It's right in the middle of the U-District!" I say yes, of course I'll come, because it seems really important to her, and ask for directions on how to get there. Of course, she has no idea because she doesn't know the area, so I ask for cross streets or an address. She can't give me either of them, so I end up flying over the area and setting down on 15th and 43rd, near the bookstore.
The furniture liquidation business actually turns out to be a protective shelter for some magical giraffe's that are threatened by some grumpy dinosaurs roaming the area. The dinosaurs are on a rampage, and I have to act as peacemaker, but in order to communicate with either group I have to become an animal, as small and nonthreatening as possible. The natural answer, of coarse, is a squirrel. I find a shed and sit down to concentrate on my transformation, with my dragonfly friend as a lookout. Beginning takes me longer than usual, but at last I am able to concentrate on my squirrel thoughts and I begin to shrink. When I judge I am small and furry enough I scamper out of the shed and over to the giraffe shelter, oping I won't have to go through that process again.

Imagination

A fraternity was giving away free pizza on the 15th. I had already had a slice of cheese, so I went back for a second: cinnamon pecan.

I found Kris waiting at a bus stop, and he asked me to explain things, so I started talking. The 74 came and stopped; I wondered if he was going to get on. Then I figured he must have been waiting for the 71, 72, or 73, but he was standing on the wrong side of the street. Finally we got on the 74 and it turned around and took us over the University Bridge.

Then we were walking along a sort of cement tunnel on the east edge of Lake Union. It was very narrow, so Kris walked in front of me. The right side was open to the lake, which was actually just a vast blue expanse of water, and part of the path was submerged, so that every step I took with my right foot made a gentle splash. I talked the whole way trying to sort out a confusing series of events, and Kris just kept walking until we suddenly reached a graffitied wall. He stopped to suddenly that I nearly stepped off the path into the water, but when I looked down the water churned viciously, and it was clear enough that I could tell there was no bottom.

In the Burien Fred Meyer, my mom and I shop for food for our vacation. There are stacks of chocolate cake, and we try to pick out the best one for my dad's birthday.

I stand with Rebecca and Evan in a neutrally carpeted lobby, waiting for the schedule for the undergraduate research symposium to be posted. Rebecca and Evan move to the other side to see if a group of Acads know where to go, and meanwhile, a suited man with a nametag and radio comes up to me and ushers me through the nearest set of double doors and into a small auditorium, insisting that there is no late seating.
Annoyed that I might be missing other good presentations I sit on the left side, near the front. The lights dim and a curly-haired girl stands at a podium on the right side of the stage as a screen lowers behind her. The film starts, and all I know from the program is that her research had to do with psychological/emotional reactions to music. For about two minutes it plays a rapid series of film clips accompanied by music. I don't remember what they contained, but I remember mainly blue, some green and white, and the charge I felt from the music. I think I at one point I was laughing and crying for a reason I couldn't fathom. The film ends and the girl says, "Thank you". Everyone waits for her to say more about her results and conclusion, and finally the symposium official comes up and whispers to her, but she shakes her head and leaves the stage.

There is a pause while the next student sets up, and I turn around and see Evan and Rebecca sitting behind me. I ask if they felt the same thing, but lights start to dim. The next presentation is by a friendly Indian guy, on "Imagination". His film starts with a scene in a cobblestone alleyway with high stone walls on either side, and it quickly envelops me.
I am a young boy, sent by his guardians to start at a school on this street. I walk up to the gate of the correct address and pause. I know this is a test when I look to my right down the alley, and past a certain archway the scene shimmers and changes to a different street. I'm not scared, and I look through the gate and ring the bell. The scene past the gate shimmers and changes, and a wizard-like man appears about two feet in front of me. We stare at each other for a while, and finally he lets me in. Other boys in orange robes peer suspiciously out the the barred windows, and one sets a rosebush on fire right next to me.
The wizard leads me through a cold stone hallway, and up and wide, orange-lit winding staircase with very tiny steps. When we reach the top the stair continue, only tilted so that it formed a corrugated horizontal plane. (Like this: /\/\/\/\/\/\). I try to walk on it, but the wizard open a door that I already passed and motions me through.

At this point I recount everything that happened in my dream previous to meeting Kris, including the events I tried explaining to him, (none of which I remember now). Then I start over from the beginning of the "Imagination" sequence, narrating it myself, while trying to follow along as best I can in my actions.

"He approached the impressive stone building..." (I turn to the right and read the plaque in the doorway of the building.)
"...No, these architects didn't mark the date of construction of the building..."
(There is a long list of roman numerals on the plaque)
"They marked the time of the accident... when the workers drowned... to harness the power of water in the walls of the school..." (It's getting harder to make sense of my narration, and finally I figure out that I'm supposed to be contemplating the wizard school across the street. I let myself in the gate, hoping I won't have enough time to make up more nonsense narration, and enter the building. I realize as a walk though rooms that change that I am waking up, and it's harder for my conscious mind to make up scenarios that will be as interesting for my active dream self as my unconscious mind could.
The thing I remember as I contemplated this was standing in a room where one wall was made of tall, sharp-edged irregular stone pillars spaced about six inches apart. A violent blue light shone through the gaps, but there was a rock garden on the other side.
I finally figured out that this was the Indian guy's test of Imagination.

Fire Maze

A man stands in a living room and suddenly the carpet bursts into a line of very short, red flames. He makes to step over them to the door, but they maliciously flare up as he lifts his foot. In an instant they have spread outward in lines, forming a maze across the room. Everything is bathed in red light and heat.