Dreaming in Color



Scene Title Dreaming in Color
Synopsis Eve dreams of red.
Date January 4, 2009

A Dreamscape of New York City

It's a beautiful day in New York. The sun glints from frosted glass and snow-kissed sidewalks; it's a brisk morning, but not numbingly cold. Not beneath the cloudless vault of a turquoise-blue sky, amidst the verdant greenery of Central Park — that of it which is of the evergreen variety, at any rate.

This particular greensward is located on the eastern edge of the park, where it borders on Upper East Side; it's dotted with a plethora of joggers, dog-walkers, and playing children. Just like any other day in New York.

Armageddon certainly seems a very long ways away right now.

Among the joggers and dog walkers is a singer by the name of Eve, currently just walking alone in the park watching the nice sky and people about. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and she is wearing a pair of jeans and shirt. She walks along one of the paths in the park, fairly content with humming to herself as she walks.

Dreams operate by their own logic, and in this particular dream, it's no oddity for the next jogger who passes by Eve to offer the woman a friendly smile. Even if it would probably never happen in the waking world. A pair of dogs delay their handler when they stop to check out the singer's shoes, tails wagging amicably all the while. So her progress continues, as Eve walks out of the park and onto the street.

The street is a little more crowded, as Manhattan streets are; a little less inherently friendly, but in the way that strangers are. Cars roll down the street like a slow flood of metal, plastic, and rubber; the pedestrians on their way to work or out for morning coffee move at a slightly slower pace. There's an older man sitting on a bench reading the paper, a woman and her daughter waiting at the bus stop, a man with a hot dog cart already hawking his wares despite the fact that it isn't even midmorning yet.

Whether or not Eve yet realizes that this is a dream is unknown so as Eve leaves the park for the city street. She waits at the hot dog vendor and she then buys herself a hotdog and bites into it. Hot dogs midmorning? Must be a dream then. She closes her eyes as she savors the taste of the food continuing her walk at a leisurely pace.

The people here are less inclined to notice Eve as they go about their business. The reverse, perhaps, might not be true — where better than Manhattan to practice one's people-watching? Even if this specific piece of Manhattan is no more than a dream. One person in particular, caught from the edge of Eve's sight as he strides past, seems of interest. His neatly tailored suit is all in order, hair combed back into a tidy arrangement, but… was that a splotch of red on his face?

Surely not.

The curious nature of Eve has her indeed people watching and as she takes another bite of her hot dog, out the corner of her eye she thinks she does see… is that blood?

He moves on, unaware of Eve's scrutiny. Seemingly unaware of whatever was on his face… if there really was anything at all. It's something to puzzle over… until a second passerby comes along, a woman with long dark hair and casual going-shopping clothes, who appears to have a very similar blotch of color on her own forehead.

Eve blinks and looks at the two people. She walks faster to catch up with the man and she is trying to get a closer look at the blotch. What is that? Her mouth is open absently and she has all but forgotten the hot dog in her hand.

The man, walking away, seems not inclined to be caught up to. But there are others in the throng on the street — the musician on the street corner, picking at his guitar; an older woman waiting patiently for the crosswalk light to change; a child throwing bits of crackers to the pigeons. There's a few of them no matter which way Eve turns.

And when she turns, something else catches her eye.

As the sun glints from a storefront window, painting a ghostly reflection of Eve on the glass, it becomes apparent the seer's own forehead bears the very same mark.

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