#dreamplane

My original #dreamplane. 🤩 #avgeek #aviator #aviators #aviation #aviationpic #aviationdaily #instagramaviation #instaaviation #aviationlovers #aviationphotography #cessna #cessna185 #offroadtires #highwing #airportlovers #airportlicious #airport #airports #iphone #iphonex #oldpic #taildragger #camarillo #camarilloairport #ventura #venturacounty #socal (at Camarillo, California)

Oh goodness, I had forgotten about that one. You’re so right!

The first thing Shades noticed was that he could not move. With an effort, he blinked his eyes open, getting his first blurry glimpse of the forest floor. Followed by a tangle of roots and vines binding him. Unable to move his head, he had to strain his peripheral vision, almost to the point of seeing spots, to see Max and Justin similarly bound. A vaguely familiar, delicious, welcoming aroma crowded out the smell of the Woods, feeling totally out of place in such remote surroundings as these. Justin lolled his head as far as he could, mumbling, “Breakfast, man…” The sudden jolt of vines shaking him… Then he woke up for real. “Come on, man, you’re gonna miss breakfast,” Justin told him again as he threw on freshly washed clothes to go get it while it was still hot. Shades rolled over, stumbling toward the bathroom. Realized, now that he was more awake, that that was breakfast he was smelling. Even so, he still couldn’t shake off that image, and the insidious question it left him with. Was that just a dream, or a glimpse of truth? he pondered as he splashed his face. It didn’t come as any surprise that he wanted that creepy experience to just be all a dream, but also feared they might still be out in the Woods, and this might all just be some sort of hallucination caused by some foul species of lotus-eater plant. Couldn’t help the grim certainty that this was also Kelly’s fate, and it chilled him to the bone to even think it. Not being able to tell was making his eyes dart around the room, questioning everything around him with a degree of paranoia he would have found ridiculous yesterday. He splashed his face again, practically slapping himself as he did so. The sensation certainly felt real enough to him, but he also knew he had experienced pain in dreams before, so that wasn’t good enough. At least it calmed him out of his near-panic state, and in questioning, he found himself recalling his talks with fellow Zero Hunter Roulette, Rod, back in the Isle of Castaways. About how ‘shared’ dreams only seemed to happen deeper down, and he hoped he could remember to ask his friends about their experiences out there, to see if there was any consistency to their experiences together. Of how, back in No Man’s Land, one of the most fiendish traps the Zeroes laid was tricking him into thinking he woke up, so he would let his guard down while still on the dreamplane. Closing his eyes, he remembered the details of the room, then opened them again. Seeing the room unchanged, he jumped in place, feeling gravity drop his feet solidly on the floor a second later. Stared hard at the mirror, but knowing that he had seen clear reflections in his own dreams before left him with no confidence in that test. Two for three, he headed downstairs to eat. Found Max was already finishing up, in no small hurry to get going. In his dreams, he came upon the Albatross, still on the beach. Old and weathered, sun-bleached and sandblasted, rusting in a couple dozen different places. As if she had lain there for years, rather than days. But when he reached for the rust-pitted cargo door handle, dreading what he was already certain he would find, that was when he woke up. Justin, meanwhile, dug in, trying not to dwell on his own creepy dreams. Of waking to find the inn long-abandoned and decaying. All alone in a filthy room, but hearing strange chittering sounds somewhere beyond his door. As well as a creepy, fishy smell he also tried not to recall as he ate. In the end, fresh-cooked breakfast won out, and he chowed down. Shades took his place and tried to do more than just poke at his food as he grappled with this existential puzzle. After all, Moira had whipped up a hearty breakfast of fried eggs, toast, even bacon, and he suspected most of this stuff was at a premium out here. True to her word, Lorna had washed their clothes as well as could be while they slept, and Shelby had made some preparations of his own. Thus he very much wanted these things to be real as much as he wanted that dire dilemma from earlier to be just a dream. Even so, he feared that desire alone might be enough to sustain a convincing illusion, so he scowled at the table as he shoveled food. Found himself tracing the patterns in the wood grains, blinking to find them unchanged. Encouraged by this, he pressed his palm into the tabletop, tried to push through it, finding it solid and unyielding. Shades tried willing Roger and Bandit to appear before them, as well as willing random people in the lobby to disappear, even tried to will his eggs to turn into pancakes, to no avail, further establishing the immutability of the world around him. Glanced at the map Shelby scrounged up the night before, further heartened to see the letters and words remain the same from one moment to the next. Remembering another trick Rod mentioned, he started adding and subtracting spontaneously chosen numbers in his head, relieved that he was getting mathematically sound results. “Shades,” Max piped up, noting the expressions on his face throughout breakfast, “you look intense. What’s on your mind?” “What was the first thing I said to you when we first met?” Shades asked point-blank. “Um, somethin’ about fries being bad for Bandit, right?” Max frowned, taking several seconds to answer. “Somethin’ about him having a… heart attack, wasn’t it?” “Justin,” Shades turned, trying to move even half as fast as he was thinking, “What’s the capital of the Triangle State?” “Crawford…” Justin blurted, then paused for a moment, staring at his friend. “Are you alright, man?” Max also looked at him with growing concern. “Yeah, I think I’m alright now,” Shades replied. “I just had a really bad dream, and wanted to be sure I wasn’t still having it.” Both of them nodded, making him wish he could find the words to ask them about the matter without alarming their hosts. And he was sure talking about the things they found out there right now would definitely make for a most unwelcome conversation topic at this table. Still, Rod had told him his own definition of ‘dreaming’ was blind acceptance, so he took heart from his own sustained questioning of his current experiences. Feeling much better, he focused on the taste of his breakfast, regaining his appetite in the process. By the time he finished eating, their supplies were already packed and ready to go, as the first hint of daylight was starting to appear on the horizon. Moira saw them off, as the Edwards led them to the harbor. “I wouldn’t trust to hope,” Moira advised them. “It died a long time ago out there… Just… come back alive, please.” It didn’t take a detective to see that neither of them got much more sleep than themselves, but their expressions showed a solemn determination to see this through. The early morning streets of Pickford were nearly deserted. Lorna explained that, wall or no wall, most folks didn’t like to be out after dark, and seldom walked alone if they had to be. Many people had gradually drifted up the coast, to the port town of Hawthorne and parts beyond. Even periodic Town Hall talk of just packing up the whole town, but such proposals always met with resistance, both from within and from without. The economy upshore wasn’t doing all that much better, so there was no shortage of opposition to anyone else moving in. By the time they reached the docks, the sun was just peeking over the watery horizon, and a small gathering had shown up to say their farewells, or likely pay their last respects. Much as Shelby expected, a decided shortage of volunteers for what most saw as a suicide mission. Thus they would see him off with a mixture of respect, dismay and pity. Even several men who appeared to be his regular fishing crew looked at him as if he was about to embark on a voyage over the edge of the earth. When Shelby apologized, Max simply told him, “We’ll be your crew on this voyage.” As they prepared to embark, Lorna held Shelby tight, whispering, “Please make it back…” “We’ll be home by sundown,” he assured her, though there was no mistaking his lapse of confidence as he spoke. Lorna then turned to them, saying, “I hope you have better luck finding your friends.” “Thank you,” Max nodded, both of his friends welcoming her blessing. With that, they boarded the Shorewind, a fishing boat of similar design to most of those that remained in Pickford’s sparse harbor. After grueling days of trudging through hostile territory, it felt almost surreal to be back out at sea, but also very natural. Enough to dispel the lingering traces of that feeling of being trapped in some insidious web of illusion. Feeling the waves rolling under him, smelling the brisk sea air, helped shake the remaining cobwebs from Shades’ head, which suited him just fine; they would need him fully focused if he was going to be any good to them out here.

While they were finishing up Shades’ purchase, a snug-fitting shoulder holster, and Justin started making inquiries about bolts, Rod breezed in, browsing Jolly Roger’s wares. “Fancy meeting you guys here,” he remarked. “Can’t say I was expecting you, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. In any case, this works out well, since I wanted to ask you for some advice. You know, practical advice, from somebody who’s been there.” “What do you mean?” Shades asked. “Fighting,” Rod elaborated. “Even one of you has seen more action than all of us combined. After hearing about your crazy adventures, I think it’d be a good idea to arm ourselves, and start practicing, before we set out to tour the world.” “Good thinking,” Justin chimed in. “You can never be too well prepared out there!” “There’s not a shooting range around here, but I suppose I could set something up.” Recalling their harrowing travel tales with every word. “I was just wondering if you guys have any pointers.” “Yeah,” Shades told him. “First and foremost, always be sure you know what you’re shooting at before you shoot. The last thing you want to do is accidentally hit your friends.” “I think that one’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Justin jumped in. “I’ll tell you the most useful thing I was ever told about guns, and I’ll do it for free ’cause you’re his friend. You wanna practice your quick-draw every day. I always practice ten times before I go to sleep.” “That’s a keeper,” Shades seconded. Back when they first met, he had his doubts based on his companion’s crude form at hand-to-hand, but after witnessing Justin’s gunplay for himself, he could see just how skilled he really was in that department. “I’ve been doing that for a while, and it’s definitely helped.” Though not half as fast as Justin, at least he wasn’t fumbling it anymore. “You want to get it down to where you can do it in your sleep. A weapon is no use if you can’t get to it fast enough. An ambush won’t give you time to think about technique.” “I see,” Rod nodded. “You guys weren’t kidding about all that shit, were you?” “Damn straight!” Justin laughed. “Unless you can draw quick enough, and aim decently at the same time, your gun might as well be back on the ship for all the good it’ll do ya when you really need it.” “I don’t know exactly how to say it,” Shades informed him, “so I’ll be blunt: you can’t think in terms of your old life. Master Al was a combat veteran, whereas I grew up in a civilian society. These days, I think I’m finally starting to get what he was trying to teach me all those years. I’m just glad I started to ‘get it’ before it got me.” While they were talking, Rod was browsing the gun display, pausing at something that made him blink in spite of himself. At his request, Wilkins fetched it out of the case, allowing him to examine it. Both Justin and Shades trailed off as Rod turned over the peculiar piece in his hands, Shades especially, as something about it struck him as eerily familiar. “Roulette?…” Rod stammered, rotating the gun to examine all six of its gatling-gun barrels. Attached to an assault rifle stock, with a stabilizing hand-grip on top. Four slots for power clips lined the length of the buttstock, Justin noticed. “My Zero Hunter weapon, just like in my dreams…” Though not an exact likeness, Rod found the resemblance most uncanny. “Roulette…” Shades also pondered that name, seeing Rod in a whole new light while holding that weapon. Certainly older now, but that was to be expected after seven years. “You mean, from the Resistance?” “Wait a minute,” Justin blurted. “What are you talking about? You know this guy from somewhere?” “Yeah…” Shades mumbled, his certainty building the more he thought about it. “But only in my dreams. We used to fight together, as a team.” “Shades…” Rod mulled over that name. Of course, he had wondered why the name ‘Shades’ sounded so familiar to him back at the Mall, but back then he had been too preoccupied with the curse, and their first live show, to give it much thought. Now, holding this weapon, he found himself remembering a lot of things he hadn’t thought much about until he wound up in the Sixth Dimension. “It really is you, isn’t it?” “But… I thought you were just a dream…” Or at least assumed he was back then, as he had no analogue to anyone he knew in the waking world. Just another ‘denizen’ of the dream world, if an ally rather than an enemy. “Yeah, but I’m the one who told you not to use your real name there, remember?” “Yes, the Resistance… the Zero Hunters…” Among them, a young man who called himself Roulette… a voice that was and wasn’t Carlos’, threatening them… It was starting to come back to him. All the crazy dreams he used to have when he was a kid. Especially that year. Things he had thought less and less about in the intervening years, while his thoughts were more focused on his more recent dreams these days. “I remember, you and Quincy, and Amy, too…” “Amy?…” Rod paused for a moment. “You don’t mean…” “Tomboy?” they both blurted in unison. “You mean she’s the one you’ve been looking for all this time?” Rod gasped. “What the hell are you guys talking about?” Justin demanded, looking back and forth between them. “I’m not even sure where to begin,” Shades told his friend. “I used to think it was all just a dream…” Turning back to Rod. Roulette. “But if you were real…” Back then, he kept telling himself it couldn’t really be her, just another dream figment tagging along for the ride— too afraid to ask her in the waking world, despite being right in the next row in class, so close, yet so very far away, for fear she might think he was some kind of freak… “Then does that mean Amy…” Not so sure he liked where this was going, given the kind of dreams she starred in in this world, combined with the kind of dreams she used to turn up in back in his. “This could take a while to explain, but I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” Looking a trifle miffed, Justin turned back to negotiating replacement flash and smoke bolts from Jolly Roger’s rather limited selection. Turning back to Rod, Shades asked, “So, if you were real, then does that mean Quincy was real, too?” “Yes,” Rod answered, his face turning somber. “He lived in another town, so it was only hearing about it from a friend who lived there that I found out what happened. We only met once, on a field trip, because we recognized each other in the waking world. But you remember how he disappeared, right before those last couple battles before the Rift closed?” “Sort of.” Shades liked where this was going even less than thinking about the implications of Amy’s dreaming plight. Probably because it was another unwelcome factor in this equation. “Well, he was found dead one morning,” Rod told him, his voice ashen sober. “I had to do some digging to find out, but it turns out he died in his sleep. Parents found him dead when he wouldn’t wake up for school. Not a scratch on him, cause of death unknown.” “The Zeroes got him…” Exactly as Shades feared. …Will wake up dead (Trap)… Almost wishing he could forget Amy’s entry in the Book of Fate. Back when he was a kid, he sometimes feared that if he had taken even one wrong turn in some of those dreams, he would never wake up, but over the years had written it off as scaring himself needlessly. “Those weren’t just normal dreams, were they?” “I think you’re right,” Rod agreed. “I’m just flying by the seat of my pants here, but the best theory I can come up with is that there is more than one level, more than one layer, to the dream world. For instance, there’s just your own dreams, which are probably no more dangerous than, say, watching a movie…” “But go deeper down the rabbit hole…” Shades speculated, “and you end up someplace other dreamers can wander into, as well. And if you die there…” “You don’t come back,” Rod nodded. “Of course, I can’t help thinking that most pass through that level from time to time, but most don’t stick around long enough to take any serious risks, or maybe wake up before they’re in too deep… I used to warn Quincy not to wander off on his own, but he always insisted on scouting out that weird No Man’s Land on the border of Zero territory. He always had a bad habit of letting his curiosity get the best of him.” “And sometimes you couldn’t wake up,” Shades recalled, that was especially true in No Man’s Land, that eerie place where the fabric of the dreamplane itself seemed to have been corrupted by the Zeroes’ presence. “I hope nothing like that happens to Amy.” “If I were you,” Rod said, face and tone dead serious, “I would try to catch up with her in there, even you can’t find her out here. I mean, I know she was a Zero Hunter like us, but it sounds like she’s forgotten how to fight in that world, and you might be able to remind her.” “I see.” Shades nodded. “I’ve been having some creepy dreams these days, but none of them are like those dreams… It’s like I’m just a spectator, rather than a player. I don’t think I remember how to go all the way down…” “You have to try,” Rod pleaded, “for her sake, as well as ours. You have a stronger connection to her, so you’re more likely to find her in there. To tell you the truth, I’m also having trouble getting into it, but I’ve seen enough to convince me that the Zeroes are back, and you don’t want her to have to face them a—” “There you are!” Dusk poked his head in the door. “Everybody else is ready to rehearse! Come on, man!” “Just a minute!” Rod called back, then turned back to Shades. “Just remember, it’s dangerous in there, so keep your wits about you. Don’t let the fog of dreams cloud your mind on that side. We’ll talk about this some more later, okay?” “Okay.” Shades half expected this to be some kind of prank, but Rod knew way too much. Even Amy’s old Zero Hunter codename, something he had never told a soul in the waking world. “Yo, Russell,” Rod turned to the proprietor, handing him the peculiar piece, “this thing’s an important memento from my childhood. I don’t suppose I could talk you into hanging onto this while I make payments?” Leaving Shades to his own troubled thoughts as he wandered out the door with his new shoulder holster little more than an afterthought.