Dream last night

[3rdragon]

I dreamed that I was in a very different society, one that was more automated and more strictly controlled. It was also, in a way, Spain - or at least in the later part of the dream, the people spoke Spanish and we used euros and centimos. Now that I think about it, I'm not quite so sure about the first part of the dream. I don't remember much about the first part of the dream, aside from the fact that I was taking a train journey. The trains in this country were different; near the platforms, at least, there was a section of ground that moved with the train (giving it power?), and if you didn't quite catch the train, you could walk along that moving section of ground until you caught up to it. This was not, mind you, the recommended method for catching trains, but it was considered less dangerous than running for trains is here. The train station reminded me of all of the underpasses in Madrid; lots of dips to different levels and bits from different levels coming together to join up on the same level, and pretty dark. As far as the first part of the dream goes, that's about all I remember. We went on a train journey and did something, and then came back.

For the second part, though, while I wasn't quite myself, I was pretty close, I know that. I met a leader of a resistance against the trend - to make society work like OneState, actually, now that I think about it; I mean this resistance was fighting against that. I agreed with their beliefs, but beyond that, the leader was a young man of immense personal charisma; the sort of person that people follow, hardly knowing why. He told me that if I wished to join, I should go to the so-and-so arch in such-and-such a city, and he gave me some sort of ticket or passcard of the sort used on trains and things, but one that also had special properties, and went off to do rebellion-leader things. Later, on my journey, I was standing in line before a gate for something-or-other, where we swiped our cards and some lights flashed before we were allowed entry. I swiped mine, and the lights flashed green: short, long, and short again.

A guy behind me pulled me out of line and took me to a cafe or something - he may also have given me a secret password that the resistance guy had told me - and asked, "You're going to the such-and-such Arch, aren't you?" I nodded, and he sighed, nostalgic, lost in his own memories for a moment, and then he told me, "look, there are card games played in front of the arch - it's very important that you play one and win." I protested that I didn't know how to play whatever card game was played, and he nodded. "That's all right. I didn't, either. And we can't teach you. You'll just have to play, and hope for the best, and maybe you'll be the one we need. We need a victory, oh, we need a victory. I think you have it in you to do it - I managed to, all those years ago. With luck, you'll see what you need to do, and do it." I nodded, not really understanding why it was important, but aware that it was, knowing that it was something the Resistance needed - and for me, the Resistance was one man, the one I was to meet at the arch. He can't have been the leader, he was far too young, but he was a leader, and while I didn't relate to causes very well, I could certainly relate to people. If it was Needed, I could try, even though I hadn't a clue what I was doing.

I reached the arch, and joined a game. There were cards involved, but the real intricacy of the game came from the bets; how much and where and when, and whether it was coin or bills. I couldn't hope to understand, but I joined anyway, a game against Old Miser, who had sat at this arch and played for longer than anyone could remember, and played viciously, and almost always won, and against some others, a kindly fellow with grey hair who was willing to dispense advice to a green girl who hadn't a clue of the rules, and a balding guy who said almost nothing all game, and perhaps some others, perhaps not. The game was an odd mixture of English and Spanish, though most of the earlier interactions had been in Spanish, I think, just as the money was euros, but there were dollar bills as well, by courtesy considered to be worth as much as a euro bill for the same amount would be. I still don't know what the game was for; the resistance didn't need the money - well, it probably did; most resistances do - but I wasn't playing for the money; they could have picked someone else for that. Somehow it was winning that was important, and only I could do that. And yet I knew that even if I lost, I would be accepted - but winning was important, for the Resistance, for the leader, so I was going to do my best to win, even if I didn't have a clue what I was doing.

We played, going round and round, placing our money down, Old Miser dominating the table, they grey-haired man giving me advice, and then came the point when Old Miser played something, and it was my turn. My advisor drew me away a little bit and asked, "You do know, girl, that if you can play a celtic, you can win, don't you?"
"What's a celtic?" I asked?
"One twenty-five," he told me.
I looked at what remained in my hand. A dollar bill, a ten dollar bill, a five euro bill, a two euro coin, a one euro coin, a 20 centimo coin - and a last, little one, yes, a five centimo coin. I picked out the dollar bill and the small change, grateful that I hadn't tossed quite all of the loose change earlier.
"She's going to do it!" The balding man spoke for the first time, excitement in his voice.
I became aware that the man I had come to meet was standing by the arch. I carefully didn't look at him. He started to speak to me, then realized that I was walking to the table. His voice changed, "You're playing with Old Miser," and I couldn't interpret his tone, but it didn't matter, I had found what I needed to do.
I laid the coins and the bill on the table. "One twenty-five," I said, and woke up.