Dreaming...

[just_displaced]

[It's an office. There's nothing about it that particularly stands out, except the fact that the walls of the room are completely covered in drawings and sketches and half-completed ideas, from floor to ceiling, overlapping each other in some places. The makeshift wallpaper seems almost too bright, somehow, too vibrant, the ink that's been used to doodle the thoughts onto the paper seeming to stand out from the taped and tacked up pages.

They're all advertisements. Some of them are thrown together and sloppy, some of them are meticulously crafted, some of them are incredibly inappropriate, the kind of thing that would never make it through a meeting, and some are good, the kind that could sell a product to anyone.

And in the middle of all the chaos, at the table which is covered in notebooks and glass bottles of soda and pencils and half-eaten sandwiches wrapped in paper, sits Ginsberg, hard at work on a typewriter…

… but not for long. Several seconds later, he's standing up from the table. He's picking up the typewriter with the kind of determination that suggests that he knows exactly what he's doing with it.

And in the odd logic of dreams, he's suddenly standing at a window, a window that overlooks Madison Avenue and the rest of Manhattan sprawled beyond it, and with the sound of shattering glass that's far too loud, too distinct, the typewriter is crashing through the window.

It's followed quickly by several other things, anything he can get his hands on, things that shouldn't be in an office at all, much less close at hand -- a tea kettle, a bottle of ketchup, an evening gown, anything that can go through the broken window does, falling or fluttering to the street below. All the while, Ginsberg seems to be muttering about products and brands.]

Jaguar... Heinz... some airline company, who cares about that... cigarettes, always cigarettes, but not Lucky Strikes, not after the letter... Manischewitz... Cran-Prune juice... disgusting...

[[OOC: Yes, welcome to him dreaming about work. You can feel free to be in the dream, and help him throw things out the window, or just judge him for making such a mess. Either way, it's open to all. C'mon in!]

Comments

[unflagging]

[The nice thing about the typewriter being gone is that it makes a great place to sit. Which is what someone is doing: sitting crosslegged in half-lotus position in the spot where the typewriter used to be. Just sitting. Just sitting and smiling and watching the miscellany go out the window...]

Careful, there. Don't throw yourself out too.

[just_displaced]

[It's a recurring dream, but there's never been anyone else in it. The office has always been conspicuously empty, the way it is when he's there alone at night, the only one left after everyone's gone home to their real lives. It's not night now, but the office is meant to be empty nevertheless. The man sitting where the typewriter had been isn't supposed to be there, is a new addition.

It gives him pause, for just a moment, after letting a box full of staples fall loosely from his hand to the street below.]

I've never considered it. Throwing myself out, I mean. I stay in here, everything else goes out the window.

[That's a lie. Why lie to someone in a dream? What good does it do?]

[unflagging]

[He just grins.]

That's a good place to throw everything else: out the window. That's where you ought to throw everything else. Right out the window.

[just_displaced]

[If anyone else were to come into this dream, anyone from his job, he feels certain they wouldn't suggest he throw anything out the window. And yet... this guy encourages it. It's strange. Not so strange that he doesn't turn around to rip off an entire section of sketches from the wall and fling them out the window too (although flinging paper is always a bit of a letdown, since it doesn't drop so much as flutter gracefully.)]

Everything?

[He looks around the room. There's a lot of furniture in it. Surely he doesn't mean all that should go out the window, too.]

Everything, or everyone? Or both? Or neither?

[unflagging]

[Throwing paper is always a letdown, yes. It's much more satisfying to throw something with a little weight to it.]

What do you think? Should it be everything? Or everyone? Or both?

You're already so far along with throwing things out that window... I don't think "neither" is an option anymore...

[just_displaced]

Everything. Everything except the heavy stuff. I can't get the couch out the window, I don't think.

[Nor has he, apparently, caught onto the fact that obviously this stuff must be landing on the pavement somewhere, and could prove very dangerous for those hapless passersby who're passing under the building at the moment.]

They tell me not to. That I'm not supposed to. That I might hurt someone. I don't want to hurt anyone, I just want to get rid of this. All of it. All of it!

[It almost surprises him how loud his voice gets on that last all of it, but then, the dream isn't going the way it normally does. It has him a little shaken.]

[unflagging]

[In a sympathetic, eager, willing tone:]

But I'm here. I can help.

[Yes, it could prove very dangerous for those passersby. That's just how it is. Do you want to hit them? Therein is another question.]

You know I'm dying to ask you why you want to get rid of it, but that's your business.

Toss something else. See if it helps.

[just_displaced]

I don't know why I want to, I just know I have to. Do you ever get these desires, where you just... you just...

[He can't put it into words. His whole job is putting things into words, and he can't figure out how to sum this up. Maybe throwing something else will help. It's odd -- it's like he just thinks it, and suddenly there's a bag of oranges in his hand. Those go out the window, too. They're much more satisfying than the papers.]

Do you think we could lift the couch? Together?

[unflagging]

Yeah. I do.

[The sound of oranges falling from a great height. Not something one hears every day. But a sound to be heard.]

Between the two of us? Yeah, I know we can!

[And he hops off the desk to get to work.]

[just_displaced]

I don't think I'm very strong. I mean, I've never tried to pick up a couch and throw it out a window before, so I don't really know.

[And strength can vary so much in dreams. He feels like he's walking through a fog when he moves over to the ugly couch to grab it by one end. It's surprisingly light.]

I don't know if it'll fit through the window. We might have to break it more. We'll probably have to break it more.

[unflagging]

[And this visiting stranger grabs the other end. It's quite light. Of course it is.]

The window or the couch?

[He laughs and he's already hauling his side towards the window]

Heave-ho, boyo!

[just_displaced]

Both. Both! If I could throw the window out the window, I'd do that, too.

[Getting a little odd, there, but what's the point of dreaming if it can't be odd? He does, indeed, give the couch a good heave-ho, and remarkably, they manage to send it crashing through the glass... where it promptly gets stuck halfway through the window frame.]

Yeah, we're going to have to break it. I'm not sure how we're going to do it. Windows are easy to break. Couches aren't. I don't think. I've never broken a couch before.

[unflagging]

[He laughs at that--throw the window out the window. It could be done. Sure.]

Okay, okay. Have you got an axe around here? Don't tell me you threw that out the window already. Axe, saw, chainsaw, whatever you've got.

[He slaps and grabs the arm of the stuck couch.]

You're gonna break this couch.

[water_wine_wizard]

[Laruna peers out the window and watches things go fluttering down.]

[just_displaced]

[It takes him a moment to notice her, so engrossed in flinging things out the window as he is, but when he does, he slowly turns to her, frowning.]

How'd you get in here?

[It makes more sense in his head. The office is usually locked when he's in this dream, because he's usually the only one in here.]

[water_wine_wizard]

I think you hit a bird on the way down.

And I don't know.

[just_displaced]

I don't think I did. I'd know if I did. I never hit anything when I throw things out the window. It just doesn't work that way.

[Because this dream has happened many times before, and somehow, harm has never come to anyone, despite the large objects that go sailing through the broken glass.]

[water_wine_wizard]

You've been here before then?

[She spins around and spots a marker. Picking it up she uncaps it and then doodles on the wall. It seems like a thing to do.]

[just_displaced]

I work here, so yeah, I've been here a million...

[A pause. She's doodling on the wall. He should probably have a problem with that, but... Oh well. He shrugs.]

A million times before. Maybe not literally a million. But it feels like it.

[water_wine_wizard]

You like qualifying things, don't you. You have to be perfectly accurate.

[She's teasing him and then writes the word accurate but with one c on the wall.]

[just_displaced]

Well, I don't think it's actually possible to be perfectly accurate, but I mean, I like to try to get things at least kind of right, and besides...

[He glances at the wall, then picks up a pen of his own, and squeezes in another c next to the one c she'd spelled 'accurate' with.]

If you're gonna mess up the walls, mess it up with correct spelling.

[water_wine_wizard]

[As soon as he adds that extra c she laughs. She knew he was going to do that.]

Fussily right.

[The marker is flung out the window. Because why not?]

[just_displaced]

Well, you know, in my job, you have to get the spelling right. You'd look pretty stupid if you tried to do a presentation and you spelled the name of the product wrong. At least, I imagine you would. It's never happened to me. That's one thing I'm very good at. Spelling. It's a personal talent.

[He watches the marker as it goes out the window, and then nods approvingly.]

Good. Satisfying, right?

[water_wine_wizard]

So is lack of spelling if you go by my brother's.

[There's more laughter.]

It is. What else is there to throw?

[She looks around the office for something.]

[just_displaced]

There're unlimited possibilities. You can throw whatever you want. I keep finding stuff in here that shouldn't even be in here, and then I throw it out the window, too.

[Like this tennis racket that he's now flinging out the broken window.]