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.So he didn t have enough reality to keep the Visitor s mind on him, did he?All the otherDreamlanders including his dolt of a wife liked the Visitors right away.Fools! he thought, eying his fellow passengers with disgust.You should fearthem! They mean destruction for us all! They could destroy you with a thought. Such a nice man, Blanda murmured in Morit s ear.He shot her a look full ofcontempt, but the scorn bounded off the invisible armor that surrounded herand scattered like dust on the wind.She never could see the truth aboutthings that would have been obvious to a child.To Blanda, everything was justfine, no trouble.She didn t understand that the Waking World was the sourceof all that was evil.Morit had certainly suffered at their whim all of hislife.Every misfortune that had ever befallen him was the fault of thosebillions of dreamers he couldn t touch, couldn t confront, couldn t call toaccount.Everyone he knew had bought into the myth of Sleepers invincibility,Sleepers infallibility.His neighbors spoke in hushed and respectful terms about the Seven who hadcreated the Dreamland and everything in it for the purpose of working out theproblems of their Waking lives, in whatever form those needs took.Hisneighbors were nervous about doing the right thing.They cared.Morit sneered, and immediately hid his face in his hand.Sleepers expectedthe Dreamlanders to do all their dirty work for them, eh? Well, he for one wasone Dreamlander who didn t intend to do anything of the kind.He despised the others on the train for sucking up to the Visitors like a packof toadies.Wake up, he thought at them.Do you like being slaves to these.these ordinary beings? They all thought theVisitors were a cut above them, something special, but anyone could see therewas no discernible difference.Why should the Dreamlanders settle for beingservants of the Sleepers? What inDaydream s name did they ever get out of it in exchange? Not a thing!Existence? No, thank you! How would the people in the Waking World like it ifPage 20 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlDreamlanders started ordering them around? They would resent it, just like hedid.As if his life was not bad enough without being changed all the time.Morithated change.He hated getting used to one shape, and having it whisked awayfrom him the next moment.He never lived in the same thing from one day to thenext.He had a tiny house most of the time, always the smallest in thevillage, always the least conveniently placed, always the ugliest, with thedarkest garden and the most difficult lawn to mow.If the house was large, itwas drafty, creaky and ill-maintained.His front walk was constantly overgrownwith crabgrass and creeping ivy, and his garden sprouted weeds instead offlowers and vegetables.He couldn t keep rosebushes alive, but box elderssprang up overnight.He had pulled out millions, but there seemed to be no endto them.One of his chief resentments was never knowing what he was coming home to atnight.He never was certain whether he d have a wife, or what she d look like.What was worse, when he had one, it was Blanda.He half-suspected that Blandamight be an imaginary or only a part-time person.She was a little vague,always being nice to people whether or not he thought they deserved it.In hisopinion she put up with the most horrible things.She never protested, evenwhen they were surrounded on all sides by nuisances, distractions, and thelike fit to make one s life a waking nightmare.Morit was constantly outragedand furious at neighbors who used their leaf blowers in the middle of thenight, their hordes of barking dogs, revving engines, occasional gunfire,jangly music from street vendors, loud music just when he was trying to getsome sleep.One night he had personally chased a string quartet off his lawnwith a stick.The next night it was a full-scale rock concert with thousandsof screaming fans.Blanda had never said a word.He felt powerless to stop the annoyances, and he hated the powerlessness.Thespace invaders! The little blips ate away at his personal space, until therewas nothing left for him at all.They eroded his territory, even his person.People crowded in so close, until he had no room to breathe.He had moved overand over again to flee the feelings, but as soon as he settled in one place,the crowding began again.And now the Creators were coming here in person,taking away even more of his reality by their presence? If they had createdthem to solve the problems of their lives, then by all means why couldn t theWaking World leave the Dreamlanders alone to do it? Why must they invade,making theDreamlanders feel more pressured, more put upon, than they already were?Blanda had argued with him that it wasn t so, that they were very courteouspeople, but the evidence was clear.Look at the way they took up all of theoverhead luggage space, so there was no room for his baggage.These so-calledCreators were as inconsiderate as any of their wretched creations.The shorter man in blue jeans got up to rearrange his bags, and accidentallytouched one of Morit s suitcases.Morit felt his blood pressure rise.Handsoff that, you! he wanted to shout.It s your fault that it took me all nightto get that packed! The size and shape changed over and over again so nothingfit.Your fault, do you hear me? But, of course Chuck couldn t hear him.They didn t care what he wasthinking.It didn t interest them.They were the high and mighty ones, whothought up such as he for their pleasure.Chuck and the others acted sofriendly now, but they would treat him like a ticking time bomb if they knewwhat he was thinking.Yes, Morit thought, sitting back with his arms folded in-satisfaction.They d treat me with a lot more respect.It was the worst day of his life when Visitors started coming to the Dreamlandin person.He wanted them to leave the Dreamland alone now, for good and all,never to return.If they resisted, they must die.It was only right.Page 21 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlMorit was not alone in his thinking.There were plenty of others who wanted todrive these Visitors back to the Waking World with a message to give theothers that the Dreamland is dangerous.Their war cry resonated throughoutMorit s very being: Dreamland for the Dreamed!Morit meant to send a message to all the Creators that not all of theirprecious toys liked being played with.Unbeknownst to the passengers aboardthe train, Morit s coconspirators waited ahead, prepared to deal a blow forthe dispossessed and manipulated citizens of the Dreamland.The Visitors wouldbe forced out.It wouldn t be long now.He hunched over in his seat, bracinghimself to await the event.It took all his influence not to change outwardlyto reflect his inner glee.Chapter 5 So I said, be under it! Chuck said.His seat companions chuckled politely athis ancient joke, but an unseen audience somewhere really loved it.It laugheduproariously, as it had at every witticism he d produced, no matter how weakhe thought it was privately.He was enjoying the attention and theapprobation.He glanced out the window [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.So he didn t have enough reality to keep the Visitor s mind on him, did he?All the otherDreamlanders including his dolt of a wife liked the Visitors right away.Fools! he thought, eying his fellow passengers with disgust.You should fearthem! They mean destruction for us all! They could destroy you with a thought. Such a nice man, Blanda murmured in Morit s ear.He shot her a look full ofcontempt, but the scorn bounded off the invisible armor that surrounded herand scattered like dust on the wind.She never could see the truth aboutthings that would have been obvious to a child.To Blanda, everything was justfine, no trouble.She didn t understand that the Waking World was the sourceof all that was evil.Morit had certainly suffered at their whim all of hislife.Every misfortune that had ever befallen him was the fault of thosebillions of dreamers he couldn t touch, couldn t confront, couldn t call toaccount.Everyone he knew had bought into the myth of Sleepers invincibility,Sleepers infallibility.His neighbors spoke in hushed and respectful terms about the Seven who hadcreated the Dreamland and everything in it for the purpose of working out theproblems of their Waking lives, in whatever form those needs took.Hisneighbors were nervous about doing the right thing.They cared.Morit sneered, and immediately hid his face in his hand.Sleepers expectedthe Dreamlanders to do all their dirty work for them, eh? Well, he for one wasone Dreamlander who didn t intend to do anything of the kind.He despised the others on the train for sucking up to the Visitors like a packof toadies.Wake up, he thought at them.Do you like being slaves to these.these ordinary beings? They all thought theVisitors were a cut above them, something special, but anyone could see therewas no discernible difference.Why should the Dreamlanders settle for beingservants of the Sleepers? What inDaydream s name did they ever get out of it in exchange? Not a thing!Existence? No, thank you! How would the people in the Waking World like it ifPage 20 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlDreamlanders started ordering them around? They would resent it, just like hedid.As if his life was not bad enough without being changed all the time.Morithated change.He hated getting used to one shape, and having it whisked awayfrom him the next moment.He never lived in the same thing from one day to thenext.He had a tiny house most of the time, always the smallest in thevillage, always the least conveniently placed, always the ugliest, with thedarkest garden and the most difficult lawn to mow.If the house was large, itwas drafty, creaky and ill-maintained.His front walk was constantly overgrownwith crabgrass and creeping ivy, and his garden sprouted weeds instead offlowers and vegetables.He couldn t keep rosebushes alive, but box elderssprang up overnight.He had pulled out millions, but there seemed to be no endto them.One of his chief resentments was never knowing what he was coming home to atnight.He never was certain whether he d have a wife, or what she d look like.What was worse, when he had one, it was Blanda.He half-suspected that Blandamight be an imaginary or only a part-time person.She was a little vague,always being nice to people whether or not he thought they deserved it.In hisopinion she put up with the most horrible things.She never protested, evenwhen they were surrounded on all sides by nuisances, distractions, and thelike fit to make one s life a waking nightmare.Morit was constantly outragedand furious at neighbors who used their leaf blowers in the middle of thenight, their hordes of barking dogs, revving engines, occasional gunfire,jangly music from street vendors, loud music just when he was trying to getsome sleep.One night he had personally chased a string quartet off his lawnwith a stick.The next night it was a full-scale rock concert with thousandsof screaming fans.Blanda had never said a word.He felt powerless to stop the annoyances, and he hated the powerlessness.Thespace invaders! The little blips ate away at his personal space, until therewas nothing left for him at all.They eroded his territory, even his person.People crowded in so close, until he had no room to breathe.He had moved overand over again to flee the feelings, but as soon as he settled in one place,the crowding began again.And now the Creators were coming here in person,taking away even more of his reality by their presence? If they had createdthem to solve the problems of their lives, then by all means why couldn t theWaking World leave the Dreamlanders alone to do it? Why must they invade,making theDreamlanders feel more pressured, more put upon, than they already were?Blanda had argued with him that it wasn t so, that they were very courteouspeople, but the evidence was clear.Look at the way they took up all of theoverhead luggage space, so there was no room for his baggage.These so-calledCreators were as inconsiderate as any of their wretched creations.The shorter man in blue jeans got up to rearrange his bags, and accidentallytouched one of Morit s suitcases.Morit felt his blood pressure rise.Handsoff that, you! he wanted to shout.It s your fault that it took me all nightto get that packed! The size and shape changed over and over again so nothingfit.Your fault, do you hear me? But, of course Chuck couldn t hear him.They didn t care what he wasthinking.It didn t interest them.They were the high and mighty ones, whothought up such as he for their pleasure.Chuck and the others acted sofriendly now, but they would treat him like a ticking time bomb if they knewwhat he was thinking.Yes, Morit thought, sitting back with his arms folded in-satisfaction.They d treat me with a lot more respect.It was the worst day of his life when Visitors started coming to the Dreamlandin person.He wanted them to leave the Dreamland alone now, for good and all,never to return.If they resisted, they must die.It was only right.Page 21 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlMorit was not alone in his thinking.There were plenty of others who wanted todrive these Visitors back to the Waking World with a message to give theothers that the Dreamland is dangerous.Their war cry resonated throughoutMorit s very being: Dreamland for the Dreamed!Morit meant to send a message to all the Creators that not all of theirprecious toys liked being played with.Unbeknownst to the passengers aboardthe train, Morit s coconspirators waited ahead, prepared to deal a blow forthe dispossessed and manipulated citizens of the Dreamland.The Visitors wouldbe forced out.It wouldn t be long now.He hunched over in his seat, bracinghimself to await the event.It took all his influence not to change outwardlyto reflect his inner glee.Chapter 5 So I said, be under it! Chuck said.His seat companions chuckled politely athis ancient joke, but an unseen audience somewhere really loved it.It laugheduproariously, as it had at every witticism he d produced, no matter how weakhe thought it was privately.He was enjoying the attention and theapprobation.He glanced out the window [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]