Chapter 4: Learning The Ropes
“I am accustomed to sleep and in my dreams to imagine the same things that lunatics imagine when awake.”
Rene Descartes
It was morning.
Like the night before, I pulled myself out of bed and wrote down the events of the dream, fighting a vicious hangover. Drinking with alpha-bros has its repercussions. I compared my notes to the ones from the first dream, looking for any inconsistencies. It was amazing how clearly I could remember what had happened, when I first started dreaming, that was one of my biggest obstacles. After reading over both entries and finding no continuity errors to speak of, I gave up and decided to have a shower to clear my head (and wash out the bar-stink).
Showering usually helps me wake up and overcome hangovers, but today it only made me feel sleepy. Not regular morning-after sleepy; I could feel it hitting me in waves, causing me to almost nod off on my feet. I got out, fearing I might fall asleep and crack my head open on the way down, but the mysterious sleep waves stopped just as suddenly as they had started.
“Strange." I said to myself as I dried off, "This calls for more research, but first, bacon!”
Priorities set, I went downstairs to make a bacon sandwich (the best cure for a hangover short of more drinking) and noticed Dan wasn’t home. More for me I guess. I’m not exactly a master chef or anything, but whenever I’m in the kitchen he has an annoying habit of suddenly materializing. I opened a new pack of bacon and started cooking, thinking about the party I had just woke up from. I definitely wasn’t drunk anymore, just hungover from the bar last night. I was also hungry, and Night Cap had just eaten ALL the cupcakes. Very interesting.
I continued to ponder my dreams as the bacon sizzled, filling the kitchen with a heavenly scent. I remembered the library books I'd read in Ponyville and how every single page was full of text and illustrations. There were medical diagrams and anatomy descriptions for creatures I had never heard of. Could I have possibly come up with all that?
Sitting down at the table, I slowly ate my sandwich, letting the bread and grease soak up the residual alcohol in my gut. If the information in those books wasn’t coming from me, where was it coming from? Could I have stumbled onto something truly remarkable here? Or was it all equal parts unhealthy obsession and wishful thinking? I had too many questions about my dreams, and I needed answers. So I came up with a plan.
I cleaned the dishes from breakfast, then checked the time. 12:48, about an hour since I woke up from the party. I grabbed a blanket and laid down on the couch. Using a meditation technique I'd picked up somewhere, I closed my eyes and cleared my head, picturing each thought as a ball about to roll down a hill. If you stop the ball, you stop the thought and the mind stays clear (a trick I’ve become pretty good at).
I tried to pull the blanket up higher, but I couldn’t find it. I opened my eyes and realized I was in a dark house lying on the floor. I was also a pony again.
“Okay... sh-... st... starting to ghet it.” I slurred to my surprise. But of course! I passed out an hour ago; I was still drunk here! The plot thickens (Not that kind of plot, weirdo).
I gotta find a clock. I tried to stand, swaying slightly. It’s actually easier than standing drunk on two legs, I realized. I stumbled through the darkness, looking for a clock, but collided with the side of a table, prodding my bruised ribs.
“Ffffffffffffffffffffffff... Fillydelphia.” I said, narrowly avoiding the swear. And it was a good thing I did.
“Is that you, Cap?” A young voice asked from the nearby staircase. I turned to see a small pink filly with a candle in her mouth eyeing me with curiosity. It was Pina Colada, Berry’s little sister! We had met briefly earlier, but I doubt I had been very eloquent at the time...
Pina came down the stairs and placed the candle on the malicious table. “I thought I heard a noise, so I came to check on you.” She said.
“Oh, thanks, I was just... checking the time.” I replied, using the dim candlelight to scan the room again.
“There’s a clock in the kitchen.” She said, pointing with a hoof.
“Thanks again!” I said, sticking my head in and finding the thing above the stove. I could barely read it in the darkness, but upon closer inspection, I saw it read 1:07. Very interesting indeed.
“I tried to get you off the floor, but you must be a real heavy sleeper cause you wouldn't get up no matter what I did.” Pina said, drawing back my divided attention. Must run in the family.
“Yeah, I’ve... been told that before.” Could I be woken up here? Or in the real world? “I... umm... have a medical condition. I can’t and really shouldn’t be woken up. It’s... bad for my health.” I was trying so hard to think straight, but also to not be drunk in front of the filly. It was only polite, considering I was kinda lying to her face.
“Oh, sorry then. Thanks for saving my sister’s life by the way!” Pina said, running over and hugging my forelegs. The genuine hug of a child is apparently a great way to sober up, because my drunkenness was instantly replaced with heartfelt sincerity.
“Anytime, champ. I was just... in the right place at the right time, I guess.” I said, remembering how hungover Berry was the day we met. “Did she make it to bed okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. I’ve seen her a lot worse...” She looked at the floor. The silence that followed allowed all the implications of what she had said to cross my mind. There was something wrong here, and I had barely noticed it until now. A question emerged from the tumult of thoughts in my head, a question I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“So, where... are your parents?”
Pina hesitated for only a moment, then slowly looked up at me. “They’re gone. There was an accident when I was just a little filly.” She let out a heavy sigh, then did the last thing I expected. She smiled. “But I have my big sister! She’s not perfect, but we have each other. We won the Sister Hooves Social this year , you know!” She pointed to a large blue ribbon hanging on the wall next to a framed picture of her and Berry laughing together.
I was taken aback for a moment as the information sunk in. It was all so... incongruous. So out of place. How could something so tragic happen in a place this amazing? Sadness doesn’t belong here.
I lowered my head to look Pina in the eyes. “I’m sorry I asked, and you are right. You have a wonderful sister and I hope you don’t mind me hanging around you guys too much.”
She smiled back at me. “You seem nice enough. A little weird, but that's okay.”
“You have no idea...” I chuckled. Our moment was suddenly interrupted when I almost fell over. I wasn’t relapsing into drunk-town, I was falling asleep. Those weird sleep waves were hitting me again, just like in the shower back home. “I... think I should be going to bed now... “
“Follow me! I’ll show you to the spare room.” Pina grabbed the candle and led me upstairs to a small room with a makeshift bed and an open chest. There was a bag of bits in the chest that must have been mine. “Here it is! Good night, Cap... hehehe” She giggled.
I mumbled a reply as I collapsed onto the bed and gave in to the sleep waves.
The first thing I noticed was that my face hurt.
“Wake up sleepy head!” Dan shouted, slapping me for what must have been the third or fourth time.
“Ah! What the fuck, man?” I cried, pushing the brute away.
“Having one of those loosened dreams again?” He laughed, heading into the kitchen. I knew that any bacon that was left in the fridge was as good as gone. sigh.
“Yeah, so... how long were you trying to wake me up?” I asked. May as well try to learn something after being slapped around.
“I dunno, a few minutes I guess. I can’t believe you slept through that beating!”
All anger aside (but not forgotten) that did explain the waves of sleep I’ve been feeling. They must happen when someone (or somepony) tries to wake me up. I checked my watch, it read 1:12. Another mystery solved. Time is 12 hours ahead (or behind) in the dream. This calls for more investigating.
I heard the rest of the bacon from the pack hit a hot frying pan and soon the sweet smell filled the house again. I had to think, but bacon can be so distracting.
“I’m going upstairs.” I said, getting off the couch and starting up the steps.
“Whatever." Dan said, then added, "Hey, you call that chick from last night yet?”
Holy shit, I forgot about Sandra! “Ummm... no, not yet.” I replied. I ran back to the foyer and searched my jacket pockets, finding the number inside.
“Good. You gotta make ‘em wait a few days.” Dan said, overcooking the bacon and spilling grease on the floor. I may not be a great cook, but Dan is just a menace in the kitchen.
“Yeah, right...” I ran upstairs.
Now that I had remembered the phone number, it became hard not to think about it. Sandra had been so awesome, and I really did want to hang out with her again, but it seemed to soon. I didn’t want to look like a loser or something (says the guy having dreams about magical ponies).
“I wonder what she’d say if I told her I was drinking with Rainbow Dash last night?” I asked aloud. I remembered the prank Rarity and I pulled on her and laughed a little, hoping Dash wouldn’t kill me tomorrow. If my little test earlier had proved anything, it’s that I would be spending a lot of time in Ponyville.
That would require planning, however. I did work part time at a production studio, and if I wanted to pursue a second life, I needed to make like Twilight and organize my shit. The first thing I did was open a new dream journal and jot down all my backstory. I added in a few things, like names for my pony parents (Dusk Wind and April Showers should do it) and employment history (I kept this part open, seeing how I still didn’t know what my special talent was). I also made a list of things I would need to do once I was in Ponyville again, first and foremost was buying a watch, which I should be able to afford thanks to the generous donations at the party... several hours ago. I would also need to consult some maps and find a small town to be my birthplace. I needed to round out my fictional past, just in case.
There was also the question of work. If I wanted to be a functioning member of pony society, I needed a job. I already felt like a mooch by living with Berry and Pina, but I really had no other option at the moment. I would ask around town and see if anything was available.
I decided to take a break from my hurried note making (when I get this worked up, my writing suffers noticeable). This was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me... and I had nobody to tell about it. I thought of calling Sandra, but that still seemed like a bad idea, even if I didn’t mention my developing second life.
Instead, I turned to my old friend; the internet. Surely I could learn something there. I posted on some of the dream forums I frequented. They had been incredibly helpful when this whole thing was beginning. I asked if anyone else had ever had dreams that were as consistent as mine, or if they had found a clock that worked. Maybe there were others trying to master duality like me?
I also put on a few episodes on My Little Pony for good measure. I re-watched Berry and Pina win the Sister Hooves Social and smiled to myself, knowing how much it must have meant to both of them. I thought about Pina and the conversation we had, feeling a little sad again.
I always pictured Berry Punch as a lovable drunk; like a kind of comedic relief. It was funny to me, being the heavy drinker that I am. Now that I was starting to grasp the implications and cause of it, I felt like a dick. How could alcoholism be funny? Even if it was afflicting a purple horse? Sometimes ethics are tricky.
I tried to shake the images from my mind. After all, I really didn’t know the whole story. I checked the forums for replies to distract myself.
The few I received were... hardly informative. I was called a liar by several users and an idiot by others. They insisted that clocks could never work as I described them and that chronological dreams where an impossibility. They quoted doctors, psychiatrists, and other experts, resulting in a hefty pile of evidence against my claims. Even I would have believed it, if I had not experienced the dreams myself.
This threw my whole perspective off. What did this all mean? I’m having dreams that nobody thinks are possible. Am I just... really good at it? Like... special talent good? How can dreaming be a talent?
A tidal wave of thoughts rushed over me, threatening to drown me with insanity (assuming I haven’t gone insane already.) These guys were dream experts, how could none of them have had something similar? Was I really that special?
I thought about calling Sandra again. Maybe talking to another person about my dreams would help me understand them better? I grabbed my phone and and tried to come up with something to say... but nothing came to me. I believe I mentioned that I’m shitty at starting conversations, especially personal ones. I tried to think of something, anything, but to no fucking avail.
I set the phone down with a heavy sigh. There was nobody I could talk to about this, I was on my own in uncharted waters.
But you know what? That's okay. I’ve been a brony for almost 2 years, and I’ve hardly had a chance to talk about it to anyone. This is almost the same thing, but better! Not only did I have the chance to hang out with ponies and have magical adventures, I got to have the exciting life I’ve always wanted, too!
It didn’t matter what my dreams were, or where they were coming from. I had been given an incredible opportunity for happiness and I wasn’t going to waste it. I’ve read that your brain can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality, so I was really just experiencing two realities; one boring and one awesome. I was going to make this work.
I closed the forums and opened my work schedule. I was booked for most weekdays for the next month, starting at 10am. I would split my day, 12 hours in each reality. I would go to bed at 9pm here (damn early by my standards) and wake up at 9am in Ponyville, be a pony for 12 hours, go to bed at 9pm PST (Pony Standard Time) and have just enough time to get to work.
I smiled as I checked the time. 2:53pm. 6 hours until pony-time. I wasted away the rest of the day with various errands and chores, counting down the hours,
One thing was certain. Working tomorrow was going to suuuuuuuuck.
