It is believed by some that the best way to truly understand a person is to work under the assumption that most characteristics they portray about them are a facade, and that their real self is being held back. A rather cynical theory one might say, but in some ways there might be some truth behind it.
Societal rules and regulations mean that to at least some degree there are certain aspects about oneself that would be considered against the norm, and are therefore willingly subsided for
whatever reason, be they a matter of social hierarchy or law.
The belief that we are truly ourselves when we operate at a level of uninhibited consciousness is an idea shared in many different forms.
A famous author once said “Write drunk; edit sober” as a means to express that we are only at our most creative when we set aside the constraints within our own mind and operate on a level where we are no longer held back from thinking freely.
Artists aren’t the only ones who feel this way-- in fact there is a large group in the medical field who share this idea. And while you’ll never hear your physician give you a prescription of Coors Light, if you took a shot every time a psychologist asked you if you had any interesting dreams lately you’d probably be in the perfect state to get some writing done.
Yes if ever there were a group of people who believed the best way to understand one’s problem is through the unfiltered subconscious it would be those in the mental health profession. And while getting your patient drunk would probably be a more direct route, analyzing one’s dreams is just as good.
How vivid or symbolical one’s after-hour delusions are can be a good indicator of what they’re really feeling. And lately no one’s were more vivid than those of Jon Stewart’s.
Ever since he started interviewing guests from Equestria, and later actually traveling to their world, he had been having the most realistically unforgettable dreams, and, in cases such as this, nightmares.
This was to be expected since Equestria looked like one big dream world, Jon having been unsure if it wasn’t exactly that the first time he visited, but lately these nightmares were taking a toll on him. As was the case when his dream of plummeting down into nothingness ended with him rolling out of bed and landing face first.
“Frerogh!” Jon mumbled as he was unable to let loose a simple expletive, his descent to the ground accompanied by his bed sheets wrapping around his head and left leg, making it awkward to find balance.
After thrashing so hard he accidentally hit his foot against the bedpost, he finally freed himself from his blanket cocoon. He had already struggled himself up into a sitting position where he was simultaneous gasping for breath and rubbing his now aching foot.
The sight of him sitting up against his bed injured and breathlessly looking in every direction might fool some into thinking he was having some kind of Vietnam flashback, but really he was just passing through that small window of awakening where he was determining whether what just happened to him was real or not.
After a few seconds of mental thought (during which he noted he was feeling pain) the higher cognitive part of his brain finally came to the conclusion that he was in fact back in reality. This was further cemented when Jon stood up only to have a concentrated ray of sunshine land directly on his delirious face.
“Aw jeez,” he moaned as he rubbed his eyes with one hand and made a stretching motion with his free arm. “Another bad dream.”
Placing both hands at the base of his chin, Jon slowly worked his fingers across his face and eventually to the top of his head where he slid them through his thinning hair. All while observing the scattered mess that was his bed which was a testament to how rough his night had been; his tossing and turning no doubt annoying his wife who wasn’t currently present in the room.
Skipping the usual routine of making his bed, weighing himself before taking a shower, and getting dressed, Jon instead opted to slog his way to the door that led to the hallway. With infinite slowness he walked towards the top of the stairs with one hand on the railing for balance as he was still shaking off the remnants of morning grogginess.
His trip was longer and louder than expected, since his foot ached and putting extra weight on his other leg made the floor creak. This display of oafish wandering also included eyes almost completely shut and head looking down to avoid the natural sunlight that still manage to find him. In addition he found it necessary to scratch himself in obscene places without a second thought. Jon was at summit of the stairs when he realized something.
He was completely alone.
Not once did he bump into someone or have a family member complain about his abominable display. Turning around he got a good view of his bedroom which still contained no trace of his wife, though that wasn’t in itself odd since no matter what the situation Tracey was always up first. But further investigation proved that the room next on the hallway, which was the kid’s room, its door open like his own, was also vacant. And if they were up and about he would’ve heard them.
The next room before Jon’s study was the guest’s bedroom that was previously held by Trixie. Jon didn’t need to look inside to know it was just as empty as the rest.
Taking a deep breath which worked its way into a yawn, Jon descended the stairs, working through the now almost completely subsided pain in his foot. Each step brought with it more creaking made more noticeable by the constant silence of the house.
Now in the living room, Jon was tempted to take a hard left to the entertainment room and plop himself on the couch where he would no doubt fall back to sleep, but this was his day off and he wanted to make the most of it. So by using his hand which was still sliding against the railway, Jon swung to his right like he was trying to slingshot himself into the kitchen. To his surprise once he did he realized he was no longer alone.
“Hello,” Tracey said from the seat she had taken opposite the table as if she was expecting him and wanted to say the first word. Jon’s eyes were still struggling to adjust but he could tell she was enjoying a cup of coffee. “Wanna cup?”
“Nyeesherf,” Jon grumbled as he sat down in the first seat he could find. Fortunately the two had been married long enough that she was fluent in mumble. With a smile that Jon couldn't see, since his head was buried in the table, Tracey got up and walked a few feet to the counter where she poured another helping of coffee, along with the precise serving of sugar and cream she knew her husband liked.
From her attire Jon could tell she was just as free from the day-to-day grind as he was, since she was still wearing her bathrobe and slippers. There was no way she would still be in the house at this hour if she had work, and even if she was on call she would be wearing a more proper outfit.
Despite his plan to stay awake, Jon found himself drifting off again, uncomfortably hunched over the kitchen table. This was soon remedied by his wife placing his beverage next to his face, causing him to jolt upwards and back into Tracey's shoulder since she had position herself in such a way as to catch him.
“Here you go, sweetie,” she cooed after giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Quickly, in case his sloth kicked back in, Jon grabbed his coffee and carefully took a small sip. This was the all too familiar test sip like a man carefully dipping his foot in a lake to see how cold it was. It was only when Jon tilted his head back and took three larger gulps did he realize that she had prepared it just right.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” Jon sighed as Tracey rubbed the top of his messy hair. “Perfect!”
“Glad you like it,” she replied as she made her way to the sink to clean her mug and wash her hand, since Jon’s head was a mess of grease and hair products. “Rough night?”
“You could say that!” Jon struggled to say as he stretched his arms to both sides. “What time is it?”
“12:30,” Tracey answered.
“I think this is a record for me,” Jon said in a guilty sounding tone. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”
“Would it have made a difference?” she asked with Jon still looking guilty but now avoiding eye contact. “You and I both know nothing short of an explosion can get you out of that bed.”
“I’m not that heavy of a sleeper,” Jon challenged, taking another sip of coffee.
“Oh yes you are!” she chuckled, sitting back down. “I could never get your ass up when I needed to. The only person who could was... oh.”
Stopping for a second, Tracey realized she was inches away from saying the name that would not only completely wake up her still drowsy husband, but would promptly throw him into realms of depression. Or so she thought.
“You mean Trixie?” Jon finished, causing Tracey to place her hand over her mouth as if she was the one who said it. “Trace, I’m fine, really. You don’t need to tiptoe around the issue with me... I miss her too.”
Determined to keep things at a chipper pace, Tracey decided to play along.
“She really was the only one who could get you up on time, wasn’t she?” She smiled which made Jon do the same.
“She sure was,” he agreed. “If it wasn’t pouring cold water on my face or forcibly kicking me out of bed it was a magic pulse or teleporting me into the hallway with that one.”
“Wait... that’s how she woke you up each day?” Tracey asked.
“More or less,” Jon answered, confused by the look of concern on her face. “W-why... how did she wake you up?”
Without her mug of coffee it was hard to stall from answering the question before things got too awkward. Shifting in place like she was itchy, Tracey ran her hand across the back of her head where she eventually nervously scratched the side of her neck.
“She uh... she would just poke my shoulder,” she answered, now getting up to leave the kitchen and enter the living room. “Either that or gently rub my forehead.”
Now in two separate rooms, Tracey missed the incredulous look on Jon’s face as he couldn't believe how much better of treatment she had received than himself. Tracey was worried this would cause her husband some lingering animosity towards their beloved pony friend, but really it just made him chuckle like he was remembering the good ol’ days.
“Yeeeeep,” Jon said as he held his drink out for another sip. “That’s our Trixie.”
From where Jon sat he could no longer see his wife who was busy tidying up in the living room. Even if he turned around to look in her general direction there was still a segment of wall that separated the kitchen from the living room in Jon’s way.
Looking over his shoulder so he could hear her better, Jon could gather from the sound of squeaking and clunking noises that she was picking up Maggie and Nathan’s toys.
“So where are the kids?” Jon said loud enough for her to hear him. “Did you trade them in for newer models like I asked?”
“No, no. Nathan’s at a friend’s house and Maggie’s out with Grandma so we have the entire place to ourselves,” she answered.
“Oh, I like the sound of that!” Jon replied, now emerging from the kitchen, mug in hand. “But I’m afraid I can’t stay for very long, I still have to go out and get the mail, then I have to swing by work to pick up some documents I forgot to fill out, then I need to--”
“Seriously? You’re still gonna work even though you’re not scheduled to have another episode for a week?!” she asked. “Come on hun, you’ve had such a long year... you deserve some time to relax.
“Yeah buuuut...” Jon said while sucking air through his teeth. “If I don’t get those forms now I’ll have to wait till Monday and by that time I’ll probably--”
“Oh come on! We both finally have the same day off and the kids are gonna be out all day!” she protested as Jon peaked through the living room window at the outside world. “It’s just you and me aaaaall alone! Let’s make the most of this!”
Suddenly, a new wave of energy, perhaps the caffeine, began to surge through Jon. The prospect of not having to deal with kids and having the pleasure of his wife's company all to himself was an occurrence too rare to pass up.
“You know what?” Jon eyes snapped open in realization as he leaned up against the door and took another sip. “Screw it, let’s do your plan.”
“Wait... really?!” Tracey said, surprised that she got her stubborn-headed husband to actually go along with her idea.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here and do something fun,” Jon added, which caused Tracey to get so excited she dropped the toys that she had previously picked up. “Okay, I’m going to go upstairs and shower while you get dressed. Do me a favor and call that restaurant your boss told us about the other day and see if they’ll--”
“Actually... I already have an idea of where we can go,” Tracey offered.
“R-really?” Jon said, sounding unsure. The fact that she had an idea wasn’t what made him concerned, but rather it was because she looked and sounded like she was about to suggest something wildly inappropriate. She was much more grounded than Jon so he was now somewhat worried. “W-where did you have in mind?”
“Weeell it’s a place we’ve been to before... you’ve been there more times than I have... great place with great people but at same time kind of dangerous but far enough away from this place,” she described with Jon giving her an unsure look. “I know you know this... colorful characters, crazy and bizarre looking creatures, and everyone knows you there.”
“What? New Jersey?” Jon joked as he had to forcibly stop himself from taking a drink lest he spit it out in surprise.
“No silly!” she responded. “I was wondering if we could go back... to Canterlot.”
It was worse than Jon thought.
“Oooooh honey!” Jon moaned as he rubbed his closed eyes.
“Okay, okay, hear me out first!” Tracey said, hoping to again convince Jon to see things her way. “The last time we went there was amazing! I understand you commute there fairly often but as for me well... I’ve been dying to go back for a while now... I love that place!”
“Trace I thought you said you wanted to take my mind off of work,” Jon countered. “Not jump straight into it.”
“But you wouldn't be going for work!” she argued as she jogged up to Jon to grab his face. “We’d be going just to have fun! No interviews, no scheduling, just us... having fun.”
Carefully setting down his coffee on a nearby table, Jon gently grabbed ahold of Tracey's hand with his own, clasping them together. He never did like telling his wife no, but at the very least he would try to do so as nicely as he could.
“Honey... nothing would make me happier than to see you happy but remember how you said I’ve had a rough year?” he reminded, getting a nod back from his beloved wife. “Well... that place is the cause of most of it... I love it just as much as you but sometimes it can be a bit much.”
Hearing this made her face change mood from hopeful optimism to sunken regret for ever bringing it up. Jon hated this sight to such degree that he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close for a loving embrace, though more realistically it was so he could avoid looking into her saddened eyes.
As much as he loved Equestria, lately it’d been somewhat stressful for him to be in its vicinity. The last couple of times he’d been there were particularly stressful for him, what with Trixie being in the hospital and Jon having been almost killed. He wasn’t certain that going back in person was the right call and he was determined to convince his wife to see the same.
“Hey now don’t be that way,” Jon begged. “We can still have fun here in our own backyard.”
Shifting in place, Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders and motioned to the front door as if it were open and waiting for them to step through.
“You forget we live in New York! The greatest city in the world,” Jon boasted, which did very little to cheer her up. “A place so nice they named it twi--”
Suddenly and without warning Jon was cut off by a screeching sound of tires just outside their complex. This sound was followed by an all too familiar accompanying soundbite of a crash so loud that it made multiple car alarms go off at once.
Whatever it was it was loud enough that they could hear the sound of scampering coming from deeper in the house from their dog hiding in fear. If Jon were still asleep this would be just the thing to have awoken him no problem.
Swapping similar looks of surprise and curiosity, both Jon and Tracey rushed over to the window where they struggled to open the blinds. Jon was the first to grab the cord, leaving Tracey to quickly adjust her robe so she wasn’t showing any skin for when the outside world would be viewable.
Like a circus finale, Jon managed to part the curtains in time to hear another familiar sound of police sirens coming from all sides. But what really got their attention was what was laid out in front of them.
A car had crashed into the side of a telephone pole so deep that it looked like the vehicle would split down the middle. The driver wasn't visibly injured though he was unconscious so it was unclear whether he was alive or not. Neither Tracey nor Jon had any idea who this man was but judging by how the police cornered him and promptly went into surrounding positions they could infer that he was a criminal.
The sight before them would have been enough to making anyone cringe with disgust at the carnage or maybe turn away and hide from the inhumanity of it all, but by this point Jon and Tracey were seasoned New Yorkers and could only sigh with contempt.
The couple didn’t even look at each other to know what the other was thinking. Jon found this very irritating but not because a police car chase resulted in a car crash just outside his house, but because as a New Yorker seeing this unfold not thirty feet away didn’t faze him one bit. It was such a regular occurrence that a part of him was surprised that it had been so long since the last time this happened.
New York City had made him jaded.
“You know,” Jon offered with a look of annoyance mirroring Tracey’s. “We can still have a good time here in the city without--”
It was at that moment that fate decided to put an end to their arguing and decide for them what their next move would be. This time in the form of the very same pole that the car had crashed into tumbling down, dragging with it a series of wires that eventually snapped, causing the power for the entire block to go out.
Jon and Tracey could hear the hum of various electrical devices around the house powering down.
Not only that but since the electrical wires were now strewn about the road some of the on scene cops got on their radios to call in support, whereupon the entire road would be closed off to the public for their own safety.
They were trapped.
With another sigh Jon closed the curtains, took his coffee from off his desk, and made his way to the stairs where he would grab his cellphone from his study, all the while sporting the same look of annoyance as his wife.
“Calling Celestia?” Tracey yelled over her shoulder.
“Calling Celestia,” Jon answered, now halfway up the stairs.