The First
A foreword:
Normally I don't do these, but I feel for this particular story, a little bit of introduction is necessary.
This story was written with experimental narration in mind.
As the story jumps back and forth between day and night, the difference between them is accentuated out through narrative styles. The dream sequences are bereft of dialogue, and the day sequences are full of nothing but conversation, keeping a minimalist view on action. This has been done intentionally to create a dichotomy between day and night. Hopefully, with any luck, the intended effect will be passed on to you, the reader.
So, without further ado, please enjoy, and thank you very much for giving this a chance.
And remember, dreams always get easier to understand as they go along.
The First
Through a fading pane of frosted glass, her leg focused into view, and just for a fleeting moment Applejack forgot where she was. Rocking her weight onto a hoof made the ground crunch underneath, the frost giving way and letting her sink into a bed of old, withered leaves.
And then she remembered.
She stood in the middle of a clearing – a circle of glass and concrete – bordered by a twisted black fence, an endless roll of black silk unfurling above her.
But Applejack gave it a thought, and the floor turned back to soil, the fence returned to being old, gnarled trees, and the skies filled themselves with thunderous, billowing clouds. It was just as it had always been, and it was never any different.
Yes, this was familiar. Comfortable, now. Recognizable and memorable. She had come through the door, and that’s how she got there. She had remembered as she left the door, but not going through, almost as if the memory started only the moment she had arrived.
But it wasn’t true; she could remember what she had for lunch and she did remember those little talks through the night with Apple Bloom, but in the great puzzle she had to put together, she could not find the pieces in between.
With a sudden spark of realisation, she saw that she was now holding her leg out in front of her, keeping it raised at an angle toward the ground, hoof turned up for an unknown purpose. There at the end of it was a little rabbit, emerging from the fog and staring up at her in fear and reverence for the only other living creature in the clearing.
All around Applejack, the world buzzed with an odd delusion.
The forest had never acted like this before. It was sinister, yes. Nefarious, maybe. Even skirting along the lines of evil. But never had it been unsettling in the way that it was now. There was a disquieting uncanniness that ran and weaved through the trees, a soft whisper of low, murmuring tones that made Applejack’s mind twitch. Between the branches, the shadows played their games, never letting themselves be seen.
All around her, it felt like the world around her was correcting itself. Adjusting. Figuring out how to exist as time went on. And in the middle of it was Applejack and a rabbit.
Applejack lowered her hoof and thrust it closer toward the little lapine, which straightened up in alarm. The seeds that she was carrying were meager offerings to the critter.
The rabbit sniffed, ears twitching. It looked around nervously, eyes darting, avoiding the shadows, but just like Applejack, it had no place else to be.
It felt that way.
And suddenly it was true.
They were stuck in the middle of the glen – nowhere to go, and no tree to squeeze past. The darkness on the other side was a drop of colour in a sea that stretched on to infinity.
Applejack dropped the seeds in shock. It had always been this way, but why was it only now frightening her?
No, of course it wasn’t frightening her. That’s right. She was calm. Calm, like a serene blue ocean upon which not a single ripple echoed out.
Applejack nodded.
The seeds that had fallen into the dirt shivered and shook as they buried themselves, and in what seemed like an instant, the mounds of soil where they lay pushed apart, and from beneath the dirt did two tendrils erupt, bursting towards the sky.
Two plants curled up toward the sunny, cloudless sky as buds erupted from their tips, unfurling large, bushy tops that brought about the sudden noise of cicadas buzzing amongst the fields.
Applejack marvelled at them for a while. They were flowers, but they looked exactly like trees. Tiny little dots of red appeared in their miniscule boughs, and as she brought her face closer to take a look, she could see the mere specks of birds flying away from the nests they had made within the comfort of the branches.
But the world called to her again, and she pulled away, watching the horizon unfold.
The wide-open plains were amazing in their span and girth, stretching in an eternal breadth and calling soft whispers as the grass rustled under a sudden breeze. The sun beat down hard, and far off in the distance was a certain twinkling of something that was just out of reach.
The sand ran around her legs. The hot, stiff zephyrs provided no solace for her parched throat and dry skin. But in the middle of the empty pit there lay the two flowers, little gems of hope that bloomed despite the conditions.
Applejack smiled at them and nodded, satisfied for no reason, an unknown job well done.
She turned slightly. The rabbit sat, holding its tiny paws in front of its face, with haunches raised – it was ready to bolt, to run, to flee.
But his grand escape was halted in place merely by the spectacle of the flowers, as both Applejack and the rabbit sat, enraptured by the sight.
The pony made no effort to move. She did not want to risk frightening the innocent creature, which stood and watched, and looked upon the flowers.
Breathlessly, wordlessly, they watched, the two in unison, the leaves shivering in the warmth of the blazing sun. And Applejack reached out with a tentative fervor, but gently, so as not to frighten the rabbit, and touched the closest of the plants.
It lay, pretty in her hoof, gentle and free, light and free. A sense of relief washed over her as she plucked it, almost as if it renewed her with hope and joy. Almost as if it filled her with a sense of understanding and completion.
The stem of the plant did not end at a root; it trailed into a string that continued to lay buried underground. A few more quizzical yanks and more of the bright red line revealed itself, the ground parting as the string was unearthed.
It seemed to lead to the base of the other flower, which still remained, planted, at the foot of the rabbit some distance away.
Applejack stared. She watched. She smiled. She motioned for the rabbit to take the flower in its own paws, to grasp firmly and pull.
The rabbit watched back, bouncing from side to side as it gave due consideration. With an overly sensitive regard to its surroundings, it reached out and grasped the stem of the flower conscientiously.
And everything went white.
“I’ve had dreams before, you know. Bad ones, even. But these are somethin’ else entirely.”
“Aw, I’m super sad to hear that, but you know what’d make you feel better? Do you know what would make you feel super on top of the world? A great bi-”
“Not today, sugar.”
“Aw, really?”
“Yeah. Not today.”
A moment passed.
A pony blinked.
Another bounced in place, smiling and throwing her encouragement up into the air.
Applejack smiled.
“Thanks, Pinkie,” she said.
“No worries! It’s my pleasure! After all, it’s the least I could do for a super-duper friend! So... what’s on your mind?”
“Just these dreams.”
“What about them? Are they creepy or spooky or...?”
“They’re... uh... different.”
“Different?”
“Different.”
A few seconds went by.
“Different,” Applejack reconfirmed.
“And you’ve been having them since...?”
“Nightmare Night.”
“L-last year’s?”
“No, Pinkie! This year! I told ya I’d been having ‘em every night! D’ya think I’d have gone through over three hundred of these and only spoken up now?”
“So... this year’s Nightmare Night?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s three dreams!”
“Yes, Pinkie. One dream a night for three nights is equal t’ three dreams. Well done.”
“Well, you don’t have to get snippy...”
One pony lowered her head while the other one feigned sadness.
“I’m sorry.”
“Aw, I forgive you! This is really bothering you, isn’t it? I can tell!”
“Oh well, what gave ya that idea?”
“Well, because you walked up to me, remember? And you said, ‘Pinkie, I’m bothered by something. Can we talk?’ and I was like, ‘sure! Whatcha wanna talk about?’ and you said-”
“Pinkie, I weren’t really askin’!”
“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t really answering, either, so I guess it works out!”
An orange hoof gently placed itself on a forehead.
“Youuuuu were saying?” Pinkie bubbled.
“I don’t... understand them.”
“But nopony understands their dreams! I know I don’t. It’s just a bunch of mixed up messy images, and you usually can’t see things too clearly, anyway!”
“Well, that’s the thing, Pinkie. I could see ‘em. I saw ‘em real clear. That’s the upsettin’ part.”
“But... but why would that be upsetting? That sounds really fun! I’d love to see my dreams! I’d love to be able to remember them! I feel like each dream is like a wonnnnnderous adventure! Sorta like a gift... from your brain! It’s your mind telling you a bedtime story! But you’re already asleep, so I guess it doesn’t really ma-”
“It’s how I dreamed, Pinkie.”
“I... How you dreamed?”
“Y’know how... how when you have a dream, things move... faster? I don’t really know how t’ explain it. It’s like... scenes change. Things change. It jumps around, an’, an’ before you know it, you’re awake again.”
“I know exactly what you mean! I can only remember small pieces, and it kinda feels like somepony threw their holiday photos at you without explaining, and you’re trying to figure out what happened!”
“I... I guess so. And... and d’ya know how... when you dream, ya sort of don’t feel like you’re in control?”
“I sometimes feel like I’m looking at myself! It’s like watching a movie... about me! But it’s not really me because... it’s not me, because I’m me, and I’m watching myself...”
“Uh... Pinkie.”
“... so is it me or is it not me in the dream? I... I don’t know, Applejack!”
“P-pinkie...”
“Yes?”
“Pinkie, I really need your help.”
“I know!”
“I need you to focus. Please.”
A bird chirped in the distance.
“Well, have you asked the others for help yet?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because Twilight doesn’t believe that dreams are anything but dreams, Rarity would tell me I’m just reactin’ t’ a bit of bad cheese, Rainbow would try to help for about two minutes before giving up and saying it’ll go away on its own, and Fluttershy would ask me t’ ask anyone else except for her, please not her, she’s scared.”
“W-well... that’s... true!”
“What’s the matter, Pinkie?”
“You’re gonna ask me to be serious, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Do I have to?”
“Probably.”
“I... I just don’t want to be serious, Applejack!”
“Please, Pinkie. You’re the... the only one I have right now. And I know you can be serious. You’re a lot smarter than y’show, and I know that. I just really need your help with this.”
The pink pony sighed heavily.
“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll... be serious. For you.”
“I... I really appreciate it, Pinkie.”
“But.”
“But?”
“Not all the time.”
“That’s fair enough, I suppose.”
“You do remember the last time I was serious for an extended period of time, don’t you?”
“No, I do-”
“I was in the hospital for four days!”
Applejack glared.
Pinkie giggled.
“Sorry. Last joke. I promise. I think.”
“Pinkie...”
“Alright! Alright! So, what about these dreams?”
“Right. That’s th’ thing. I know I’m me in the dreams. When things change, I can see them changin’. I can feel things happenin’ and movin’ around me. I can feel the breeze and the sun. I can do things. I can make choices. It feels like real life, but it can’t possibly be real.”
“So that’s what you mean by ‘clear’?”
“Yeah. It’s like... I can tell what’s goin’ on. But when I wake up afterwards, and all the images just... fade. The feelings are gone. So it’s like lookin’ back at a dream, but one I was... taking part in. Am I makin’ any sort of sense?”
“Sure you are!”
“I am?”
“They’re called lucid dreams!”
“Lucid?”
“Mmm hmm! They’re just a kind of dream which feels more real than others! It’s a kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming!”
“But I don’t know that I’m dreaming, not while I’m actually having the dream!”
“Or... do you?”
“Pinkie...”
“No, really! I’m being... serriiiouuusss.”
“It’s hard to tell with you.”
“Thank you!”
“What do you mean, Pinkie?”
“What I mean is... you say you don’t know that you’re dreaming while you’re having the dream, right? Then here’s a little question for you! How do you know you don’t know?”
“Well, because...”
Applejack’s hoof was left hovering in mid-air.
“Well, I’ll be. I suppose you’re right. I never did question it th’ other way ‘round.”
“They’re harmless, Applejack! Lucid dreams are harmless! They aren’t anything else but your mind working overtime while you sleep. If I remember, it’s just something about different bits of your brain being more awake than the others, so it sort of knows that you’re dreaming, and you can experience things a bit more clearly. That’s all!”
“Are... are you making that up?”
“No! Applejack! I am not!”
“It... it just sounds like something you’d say!”
“Oh now! That’s just... just...”
“Well I... I don’t mean nothin’ by it! But where’d you get all this from, anyway?”
Pinkie huffed.
“Well. You remember Twilight’s birthday, I’m sure. When I was putting on the whole Madame Pinkie thing? With the fortune telling?”
“Yeah... that ended... strangely.”
“I was reading a lot of books about the subject. You know, to get into character! And one of the books I read happened to be about dreams and dream interpretation!”
“Dream interpretation? What’s that involve?”
“Well, it’s just about figuring out signs and symbols. Patterns. Things like that!”
“Do... d’ya think I’d need that?”
“Well, Applejack, m’girl, I hate to sound like Rarity...”
Applejack leaned in closer.
“... so I’m going to say this in my own voice. But I think it might really just be a dream. If it’s a lucid dream, as I think it is, all you have to do is just know you’re dreaming while you’re dreaming. You have to... find a way to tell yourself that you are.”
“How in th’ hay am I supposed t’ do that?”
“Well, let’s figure it out, shall we?”
Pinkie clapped her hooves together in glee.
Stats
Page generated in 0.02 seconds
Total duration
916 users online
1,374,571 hits today, 2,054,621 yesterday
FIMFiction
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic Fanfiction
Designed and coded by knighty & Xaquseg - © 2011-2024
Follow & Support Us
Support us
SubStar
Chat!
Discord
Follow us
Twitter
MLP: Friendship is Magic® - © 2024 Hasbro Inc.®
Fimfiction is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by Hasbro Inc.®
I like. Onward to the next!
This is quite good so far, and I'm eager to read more! The only nitpick is that I think Twilight, being the science-savvy unicorn she is, seems like she'd be on board with trying to interpret dreams; And it wouldn't have been too hard to come up with another excuse for her not being available. Still, that's only a small issue.
Onward!
I'm so in love with this style already. I'll maybe leave a more detailed comment as to why once I've finished the story but I just had to say so in the mean time.
A part of me always says that no story should require an introduction about its narrative style. That if it is properly executed, those who don't understand it on their own do not deserve the story, and those who do understand will better enjoy it if they discover how the narration works on their own.
But another part of me remembers that excluding readers is a dangerous business, and that I can hardly fault a writer for choosing not to engage in it.
I don't think this needed explanation, though. It seems very natural for the dream to be without dialogue. I don't think there's dialogue in my dreams; I just know information has been communicated, and there's no reason for my brain to fill in specific words. Nor is having the days almost devoid of narration strange, though it is not so automatically the way the scene demands to be written; people write dialogue-heavy stories all the time without stopping to say why they chose to tell their tales that way.
At this point in time, I'd be with Pinkie's theory. There's no reason yet to think that AJ having a vaguely agricultural partially lucid dream is anything but random happenstance.
I always have lucid dreams. Is that bad?
"You have to... find a way to tell yourself that you are." (in a dream)
Make a totem?
I will listen to Inception: Time for the next dream, just because
I have very lucid dreams myself. Color, able to use all five of my senses (Which really sucks when I am in a violent dream cause I can feel pain too. Being stabbed, shot, burned alive, yuck blech and super painful), ontop of being able to remember them in incredible detail with minor control. It's creepy but interesting.