Impressions

Is this a graduation party? Wow, it's in a pool. Everyone crowd onto this boat, it's time to go.

Enter: green, murky, shallow swamp. What's this, a wagon train of canoes? Where are we going? Oh look, a snake. How cute. No, don't get out to catch it. Oh well, at least the water's not that deep. Holy shit, get back in the boat! THAT one's humongous! Look!... wow ... look how it swims in a spiral... I'm pretty sure snakes that big don't grow well in water this shallow.

Ah, back at port. Hey, look, another group of people. Wait - that's - that's us! No, no, stay back. Look, they're going in the buiding. We can watch them from this overhang here. Damn, we're trapped in some sort of time flux. How do we get out? No, we can't ask our past selves! That'd completely screw up the space-time continuum! What are you thinking?



Wow, this place is really kind of dark. But look at all these fish and reptiles and such! No, sorry, I don't work here. Hey, Kevin, nice store. Boy, it sure is dank.



Maybe if... if I angle my way across the lawn here they won't notice I'm gone... no, they're telling me to get back in line. Dang, college campuses are too open. These people seem nice enough, but I can tell they've got something nasty planned for us.

What? I'm a finalist in some stupid talent competition? Fine. I don't know about the rest of you, but my goal is to not win. Oh? My turn? Well, I was already up here. I can't really turn back now.
What is a ball to a puppy?
Is this some sort of analogy test? No, wait. That's simple... a toy. That's right, I'm supposed to be trying to win. Now maybe if I kneel down amidst these small children and look introspective I can gain get some of the audience to like me. Let me study this book. Here.

Well, now that that's over with I can- wait, what? we have to go to kyra's musical? Dang it, I thought I was finally free to do what I wanted. What, we're ALL in it? Um, okay. Let's get in this capsule-shaped thing and drive there.

Okay, I guess I'll get in costume and pretend I know what I'm doing. I hope Mrs. L.H. isn't mad at me for not coming to any rehearsals. Kellen seems to have a decent idea of what's going on, I'll follow her. Whew. This is ridiculous, but it's not that bad.







I like this house. Some of you should stay outside.

It's got to be here, it absolutely has to be here... I'm sure I left it here in the other dimension... quick, the wind is picking up, we have to find it before the universe collapses. Try turning on and off all the lights and here, hold this. Shit. Electricity's gone out.
No, no, I know it was here... goddamnit!
I know this is where I left it!
I know, I know, it's time to go,
running out of time
but
I know it's here

Bald Men and Bikinis Do Not Mix

Sunnydale now sits in a large Californian valley, with grass spanning the distance to the hills behind it, and a small sort of hicktown/trailer park across the street. I run down the hill in the loping manner that one must on inclines and make my way towards the school.
I am in a panic. I have recently received word that one of my family members is in the Emergency Room, and I am trying to locate the rest of my family so that we can go to the hospital. Running pas the windows, I see my sister in her old Nationals outfit, dancing for a large crowd. I round the building and enter, passing through a dim, grimy linoleum corridor to one of the classrooms. I find my mother, applauding while my sister takes her bow. I tell her that we have to leave, it's urgent, Dad's in the hospital, but she says, no, we can wait till Kyra's finished. It'll take about twenty minutes.

Resigned to waiting, I leave the classroom to explore the school grounds. Wandering through the dim hallway, I find myself in a courtyard on the other side of the school. It is cloudy now, and the gray light turns everything, except the towering evergreens, a similar shade. There are scores of people here, and the air is filled with smoke and strange smells. I conclude that this must be the Addicts Anonymous meeting. Feeling disgusted, I try to hurry through the corwded picnic tables, but I am fascinated by these lowlifes. I wonder aloud, "why would you do something like this to yourself?"
A homeless woman and a dirty-looking man catch me by the elbow and they begin to explain their reasoning. They motion forward a thirty-something bald rocker (much like Chris Daughtry, or the guy who recommended Blades of Glory to us at the Metro) He pulls from his jacket something made of clear blue plastic - it looks like a combination between a flashight and a stick of deodorant. Holding it up to his face, he pushes a small black button on the side. Frightened that he is about to burn his face off, I try to knock the thing out of his hand. Before I can get to him, though, writhing threads of yellow plastic emerge and make contact with the stubbly chin. It seems he is addicted to the feel of synthetic tubes on his skin. I begin to understand.

Tired of waiting for my sister, Jenny and I journey forth into the valley on a quest. We are trying to locate something, a treasure, perhaps, or a famous artifact like the Ark of the Covenant or something. We run along the one road in the valley, surveying the area for anything that looks like it might provide a clue. As we reach the top of a hill above Sunnydale, we spy to large rocks standing alone amid the brown grass. We clamber up towards them. Reading the far side, they tell us something important, they tell us where to go. My vision blurs slightly and they mesh together to form an image or text. Something magical occurrs, and we know the next step in our quest.

My father drives a moped while I sit behind. His blue helmet matches the dated bike, and I'm sure we look quite the pair as we weave through traffic in a country suburb. We are looking for a place that is likely to give us our next clue to the treasure. We pass all types of ruins and run-down places. I see the Parthenon, and other Greek constructions. The roof has caved in on the dinosaur museum, and ivy has twined artfully up a fake T-rex's legs. A large warehouse has been turned into some sort of store. The garage door is open, and something about the upturned boat in the driveway seems familiar. Written on the side are the words "the rocks in the valley," jarring my memory.
"Dad! There it is!"
"What? Where?"
"There! That boat said, 'the rocks in the valley,' that's got to be it!"
Typical of my father he saw nothing, but he believes me and we shoot off onto a side street to turn around. It is getting dark, but I recognize where we are. An elementary school is nearby. Two boys on bikes obstruct our way, and I curse because for some reason we are in a hurry.
Entering the main stream of traffic again, night has fallen and it is rush hour. By the time we get back to the boat, it has been dragged inside and the shop has closed. We park the moped in the dirt by the shop and leave our helmets on the handlebars. We enter the shop occupying the rest of the warehouse.
The room is warmly lit by many lamps, and is some sort of tourist trap, selling useless keychains and with wall-to-wall racks of women's bathing suits.
"Why is this all they sell here?"
"Because that's all we wear."
A balding man similar to the first, except older and slighter, pushes his way through the bead curtain at the back of the shop. He is barely covered by a spangled turquoise string bikini. His daughter, behind him, is slightly more modest in a red halter top and boy shorts. The man I find slightly lecherous, but the daughter seems very normal to me. I barely manage to keep my father from buying a bikini for himself from the charming young lady at the counter. I tell him that we are here on an expedition, and not a shopping one. We manage to leave the shop with just a keychain as a souvenir of Bikinitown.

Anxieties

The band is putting on a concert that is the culmination of a lot of hard work. We have taken a bus to somewhere nearby, where we will wait for our turn to perform.

I join my friends by the buses. Anna and Micaiah say no, I can't come, and everyone leaves me standing on the sidewalk, mouth agape, to eat lunch by myself.

In the practice room, I am excited to prove to Matt Perry that I have finally found my mouthpiece. I pull it out of my backpack and display it proudly. I realize that it is almost time to perform and that none of my friends have concert attire on. I open the door and smugly tell them that they're late. It is good to one-up them, as I'm still sore at them due to the lunch circumstance.

We are onstage, ready to perform. My father is conducting. Instead of sitting in chairs, the horn section has small cots on which they can recline. My father raises his baton, and I realize I don't know where any of my music is. I have been given several books full of music, but unlike the rest of the band, I haven't taken the time to locate the songs we will be playing. I frantically shuffle through the pages as the music starts. I can't find any of the music I need. I throw the books to the floor and curl up on my cot to cry, furious at myself for not preparing properly. My father sees that I am distraught and cuts the band off, running to my side. I'm mad at him now, for placing me above the band, when they've all worked so hard to be here. As the curtains falls into place over the stage, I trudge out the back door, rather than face the wrath of the band and my so-called friends.

I am in a jungle. Rather, it is a very, very large room, filled with flora and fauna of an Indian climate. I have circled the premises once entirely and am now trying to find a way up. a large elephant swings his trunk over my head and back again; I try to grab it. However, it is smooth and I fall off every time. I know there's something else I need to find before I can climb the elephant.
Unfortunately, my failed attempts have set off a flood, which sweeps up all creatures in its path. I let it carry me along, aimlessly, until the waters have receded somewhat. I look around for a log or something to float with. Grabbing one, I tell my sister that it isn't floaty enough, we have to find something younger. I see a monkey floating by, trying to pull a large armored cart. It is not succeeding, and is pulled into a whirlpool. I lunge forward and try to save it as it goes under, but the monkey I come up with is only pulling a wicker basket, not a cart. I panic, those monkeys must be saved,
The jungle personnel clear the water away, and where the whirlpool was is a plastic bubble. Inside are the monkeys that were pulled under. I rejoice - this means we can save them - but the workers shake their heads sadly. They say they cannot save these monkeys; I do not understand. I frantically try to convince them that we can get the monkeys out before they run out of air, but the employees just stand there stonily. They say I saved one monkey, isn't that enough? I scream at them, no! but they gaze at me with their hard eyes and I see there is no hope.
I crouch in a corner, saddened and infuriated at the loss of life. I cannot tear my gaze away from the bubble as the monkeys run out of oxygen and slowly collapse.

The owner of the park is equally saddened by the loss. She says oftentimes she wishes the waters will not come, but then - she opens the front door and shows me the destroyed jungle, covered in a fine layer of snow - this happens, and she wishes she had not wished such things. I stand in her garage, trying to understand. She wraps her thin bathrobe sadly about her and turns to go back inside.