[IC] Lost in Dreams (Stephen)

[ericthered]

Stephen Cirega dreamed of rain that night. Rain, mud, rivers, and swamps. People trudging through the rain in old fashioned clothing, tools and bags over their shoulders. Giant Salamanders hauled carts either through mud or up waterways, huge clawed hands expanding their webs as they sank into the mud and gained traction. Rain poured down on rice fields, already full and draining into nearby rivers.

The houses were almost entirely made of wood, with steeply peaked roofs that stretched all the way to the poles holding them three feet off of the ground. The heaviest traffic areas were board-walks suspended above the muck that seemed to cover the place.

No one seemed to be taking shelter. There was little effort to stop the rain, only practical precautions built everywhere.

The people only a few people chose to undress for the rain, and those worked up to their knees, waste, or higher in water. Most wore protective clothing: broad brimmed hats, long slick coats, and shirts and trousers all the way down to their extremities. There seemed to be two categories of these: those who worked with wet clothes that seemed to still keep them warm, and those who waterproofed everything.

There were two ethnicities of people. One group had the gruff beards and brown to blond hair that marks the inhabitants of europe. The other was a strange pasty white, almost albino, with elongated features and thin black hair. They were quite tall, but very thin as well, and many more of them chose to wear clothes wet than of the caucasians.

Stephen woke with a sputtering, and with his face in water, and panicked. He put his feet down and found mud at the bottom of where-ever he was. Pulling himself forward and up, he saw where he was.

It was raining. Large drops came down from a uniformly grey sky. From the light, it seemed to be about noon-- there was enough light and he thought the center of the sky looked brighter than the rest, though it was a little off-centered. It might be 11, but it might not.

the puddle he had been in poured over the ridge of something, and on the opposite bank was a bunch of trees that looked like classic beaver work, though thicker than you would expect your average 30 lb rodent to be able to move. In front of him was a steep slope, angled at almost 60 degrees, with a wide course of water (30 feet and percetibly moving) along its base. The slope was over 100 feet tall, and stretched as far as he could see in either direction (due to the trees, this wasn't too far, but it was still impressive).

Stephen was completely naked, and somewhat cold.