The Gyroscope Is Burned Out

Kage Baker, or at least the part of her that lives in my head, has apparently been spending a lot of time in the Next World Bar. And the mojitos must be really good … I’ve been dreaming through so many weird places and layers and memories, I ran into the wall this morning trying to go into a kitchen that I haven’t been in for 30-odd years.

Like I mentioned, I have been dreaming of Kage lately. Especially by daylight, as I am stalked by intermittent narcolepsy and keep falling into unplanned naps. (I suppose it’s actually increasing age, but hell – narcolepsy sound so much more interesting.) I lay down for a brief nap this afternoon, and promptly found myself in a dream with Kage. We were starting a day at some Faire, in the usual delightfully crude and jury-rigged wooden building – and the box bed we were sharing fell off the wall and rolled over-and-over down the incline of the Inn Yard to spill us out into the street. We were unharmed, but Kage was swearing mightily that she always knew that was going to happen!

Note: It never did. Cots folded up with us in them, air mattresses deflated, the roof blew off as we slept, and one memorable morning I missed the ladder leading down from the loft above the Tap Room, and stepped 6 feet straight down into the jockey box for the beer – ice! – but the bed, whatever it was, never unrolled under us like a rug.

Anyway, later in the dream – with the nonsensical scene change normal to dreams – we were driving along the narrow roads of the Hollywood Hills in my first LUV truck. (LUVs were infinitesimal 1/4 ton pickups made by Ford in the 80’s. I drove a couple of them when I started getting my own cars –  I could get in without a ladder, and you could fit an uncut 4 x 8 sheet of plywood in the back. ) We were searching for a new route up the hills to somewhere we could get access to the famed and legendary Spiderpool.

The Spiderpool, details of which I will recount tomorrow, is a real but highly bizarre place literally hidden in the Hollywood Hills. It hasn’t been accessible by car or foot for decades. But we always knew roughly where it was, because when the wild oats were low you could see the thing on a hillside two canyons across from our backyard. Kage was enthralled by it her whole life.

Anyway, we were following a new route, which she was sure would get us there. We could see the gleaming top of one of the white-tiled walls peaking over a ridge … however, following her directions, I took us round a curve into a sudden cul-de-sac: and I tried to back us around, and the truck promptly slipped over the edge of the street and rolled over-and-over down the hillside.

Note the Second: this never happened either, though we came damned close several times. Probably because, in my hare-brained youth, I often drove with an ice cream cone or a carton of Chinese food in one hand …

Curiously, there was no fright. There was just a sense of annoyance in the dream as we went arse-over-teakettle down through the oats and mustard, a feeling of “Oh, not again!” I remember thinking it was a good thing I’d disabled our internal gyroscope (Huh?) because it would have burned out otherwise. And then we landed right side up on a curve of road 20 feet below where we had begun.

And we brushed off the weeds and we went and got the hood (which had popped off partway down) and stuck it back on and we just drove away. Kage was already planning our next angle of attack, speculating on where we might get a winch …

And she enthused, as we drove off, “Man, that’s weird to have that happen twice in one day! First the box bed and then the truck! What a day!”

“Let’s not do it again, though, okay?” said me the craven.

“Well, I don’t mean to make a habit of it. But – wow. What an amazing thing!”

She wants me to do something, I am sure. Something that may turn my world topsy-turvy:  though how she can top dying is beyond me. Or maybe that was just Kage disabling my gyroscope. But I’ll figure it out.

And when the truck stops whirling round and round and the golden granite dust settles back on the road, I’ll figure out where Kage means me to go, and I’ll go there.

Tomorrow: some Spiderpool