Sleepy Calamity

I watched as the two people of myself ricocheted off of the planet and into two different realms. One ascended into the clouds. One plummeted into magma.

Sleepy Morning in the clouds was welcomed by a fleet of cloud lawyers. “we are here to read your rights,” they said.

“You have the following rights:

  • To never feel bad about anything
  • To understand everything
  • To feel positive all the time
  • To crush all despair inside yourself
  • To never be judged or criticized
  • To be considered, well, by everyone

Do you understand these rights as you’ve been read them?”

Cloudly Sleepy Morning nodded yes.

“You need a re-naming as part of our intake. Do you consent to this? You need to consent to this but you can answer in any way you like.”

Cloudly Sleepy Morning nodded yes.

“Let’s see…” the cloud lawyers shuffled through their papers. “You are now the Dreaming Dragon. Is this name acceptable to you? It must be acceptable to you, but you are free to answer in any way you  wish.”

Dreaming Dragon nodded yes.

“You are free to behave in any way you’d like, but you must visit the Wellness Center of the Clouds so your earthly imperfections may be cured. You are free to not visit the Wellness Center of the Clouds, but you need to visit it. Do you understand?”

Dreaming Dragon stood up and walked to the Wellness Center of the Clouds, where Cloud Weathermen were standing in a circle performing an incantation. They produced a thunderstorm, in miniature, floating inside their circle of hands like a ship in a bottle. They heaved it downwards. In the distance, Dreaming Dragon saw a greenish purple crackling demon cloud unroll itself over a chain of mountains.

Dreaming Dragon entered the Wellness Centre of the Clouds. Inside a woman wearing a hat with an ensignia of a glowing yellow disc.

“I am now going to do you a favor,” she said. “I am going to Banish your bad qualities. Since you are new here, this is free.”

She whipped a long piece of knitted cloud-particle around her head and snapped it with tsunami-levels of force. It came down on the tip of Dreaming Dragon’s head, removing the tuft of hair on the crown. She picked up the tuft and set it on an altar.

“You myst repeat after me,” she said. “You MYST!”

Dreaming Dragon touched the place the Priestess whipped her whip.

“I AM NO GOOD;

THE THINGS I HAVE DONE ARE BAD.”

Dreaming Dragon, suspiciously, a little removed, a little hesitant and civil-disobedience-esque, repeated the words.

“THE EVALUATIONS OF PEOPLE AROUND ME ARE TRUE,

INSOFAR AS THEY REINFORCE TO ME

HOW LITTLE I AM,

AND HOW I SHOULD ALWAYS BE ACCOMPLISHING MORE THAN

I CURRENTLY AM.”

Dreaming Dragon’s open mouth ended up vomiting instead of saying the words. A crowd gathered to observe the vomit. They were noncommittal, smiling, while walking away, backwards, from Dreaming Dragon. Their faces wore a happy, pleased expression that was a little tight at each of the focal points of their features, their skin was a little stretched, there was a nanoscopically small quiver to each of their faces.

There was a short break in the professionalism of the Wellness Specialist. She reached out and touched Dreaming Dragon, almost surgically, with warmth and care and said, “That was good, good job. That was good.”

 

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About vurinstitute

Horatio Somersault is the Director and Regent Chancellor of the VUR Institute, a think tank involving some as-yet-unknown and slightly spooky manipulations of time and interdimensionality. In his spare time Somersault enjoys writing poems and fables. You can read his writings, as well as those of other VUR inhabitants, at vurinstitute.wordpress.com. Though he lives a wanderer's life, his hometown is a domed biome inside the water core of the moon Europa. You can follow his experiences adapting to the customs of the early 21st century on his Twitter @VURdirector and can email him at vurinstitute at gmail dot com.
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