Saga of Dreamviews

**Kiza** · 02-22-2009 09:23 AM

He'd been dreading the visit for a long time now.

He knew he couldn't face the man – no, the boy the sad thing had become. And he would always be the boy. That sad husk in there had never reached manhood. Not since the Crash.

The old sign of the hospital had been painted over, but it was still clear: Interweb Mental Institution.

It had been painted over with the words: Interweb Institution For the Differently Sane. The political correctness plague had struck the hospital, just as it had everything else.

It was a clean building, though. White marble, white pavement, perfect green shrubbery. It looked like quite a nice place, until you went inside.

The two guards nodded at Howie as he walked through the gates. A nurse, dressed all in white, smiling a fake little smile that wavered at the edges, ushered him in.

The foyer was tidy and clean and sterile. It stunk like disinfectant, and insanity. The secretary smiled at him.

'How may I help you, sir?' she said, typing a meaningless stream of letters onto her keyboard as to look busy and official.

Howie shifted uncomfortably. 'I'm here to meet . . . ClouD,' he said, and added with a wink: 'But not the ones outside.' The secretary did not seem to find it amusing. He winked again, just in case.

He leant forward. 'It was a joke, you see,' he said. 'Referring to the name of the patient in relation to clouds. That is, the phenomena known as precipi-'

The secretary grinned. She was used to working with mad people.

'Nurse Daniel will lead you there,' she said, finishing off her meaningless stream of letters with an emphatic “PENIS”. 'He cares for ClouD personally, the poor thing. I'll just fetch him.'

She pressed the button for the intercom and said into it: 'Nurse Daniel to foyer. We have a visitor for Patient 666.'

Time passed.

'666?' said Howie. 'Isn't that a bit . . . unfair?'

The secretary shrugged. 'It had to go to someone. And we certainly couldn't give it to Mr Natas, that would just be cruel.'

'Why? What's wrong with Mr Natas?'

The secretary grinned, without any mirth. 'You'll see, I suspect.' She looked over his shoulder. Howie followed her gaze.

There was someone very familiar there. He had a wild, crazy beard, which covered his mouth completely, and joined with his hair, leaving only a pair of eyes and a nose visible, which peered at him suspiciously. And he smelled like the love-child of a toilet and a cesspit. He might have been grinning or scowling; you couldn't tell through the beard.

It was Daniel Danciu. It was obvious from the first moment he saw him. Last time he'd seen him, he had a spam-arrow embedded in his head. He didn't now.

Howie decided not to mention it.

He grinned. Daniel simply gestured and said, 'This way, sir.' He walked off into an elevator. The doors of the elevator began to close.

'I believe you are missing the elevator, sir,' called Daniel from inside. Howie hurried after him, and slipped inside just in time.

Daniel was staring resolutely at the bleak metal sides of the elevator. Howie sighed.

'I know it's you, Danciu. You can't hide from me. I know everyone,' said Howie.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Daniel. 'My name is Daniel Craig.'

'Daniel Craig?' said Howie. 'Well, you can always dream.'

'I do not dream, sir,' said Daniel. 'With all respect, dreaming is just hoping with it's socks pulled up.'

'You used to dream,' said Howie with a sigh. 'We all used to.'

'I don't know what you're talking about, sir. Now, it seems we're here . . .'

The elevator slid to a halt. The doors opened, with a faint pinging sound.

A tortured scream met his ears immediately, followed by a spurt of manic laughter. Howie drew back in horror.

'Do not worry, sir,' said Daniel, strolling out. 'The screams are normal. I believe they are coming from Mr Herr.'

'Why?' said Howie, cautiously stepping out. 'What are you doing to him?'

'Nothing, sir. I suspect that is the problem.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Mr Herr tends to overreact to things,' said Daniel. 'He may be a trifle bored, or perhaps a bit peckish. I shall just stop along at his door.'

Daniel stopped at a padded door labelled 664. He took out a key-ring, and selected one in record time.

'You may have to stand back, sir,' said Daniel over his shoulder as the door swung open. Howie did so, and a second later a dart flew out and hit the wall, bouncing off.

'I'm playing darts!!' said an excited voice from inside.

'Very good, Mr Herr. What was all the screaming about, if I may ask?'

'Hungry, hungry, hungry, Mr Diddle. HUNGRY AS A HIPPO, I SAY. HUNGRY HUNGRY HIPPOS!!' There was a bout of coughing from inside.

'I believe I have a sandwich, Mr Herr. Egg, I believe.'

'I would like my dart back, Mr Dinwiddie. Thank you for the breadstuff. The wolves will enjoy it.'

'I'm sure they will, Mr Herr.' Daniel poked his head out for a moment, and grabbed the dart off the floor.

'Here we go, Mr Herr. Enjoy your day.'

'If only Esme were here. We could bake up a pancake in those days, I say!'

'Very good, Mr Herr.'

The door closed. Daniel waved a hand. 'Come along.'

'You give that man darts?' said Howie, running after Daniel.

'Completely fake,' said Daniel. 'What do you take me for, sir, a savage?'

'Oh, no. And who is Esme?'

'No one, as far as we can tell. Completely imaginary. From what we can gain from his ramblings, however, she seems to be adept at making pancakes, waffles, and related foodstuffs.'

They continued on past door 665. Laughter was coming from the room.

'Well, he seems to be happy,' said Howie.

'One of the least happy people I know,' said Daniel. 'That's Mr Natas' room. He believes he's the devil. We think he's working on his maniacal laughter. He'll continue like that until he goes to sleep, but only after we give him his teddy bear, as well.'

They arrived at door 666. There was a shift in Daniel's beard that might just have been a smile. 'Now,' he said. 'The gentleman ClouD.'

He unlocked the door, putting his finger to his lips: be silent.

The door swung open.

Inside was a boyish man, around twenty. He had long, messy blonde hair, but none on his face.

'You've shaved him well,' said Howie in a quiet voice.

'What? Oh, no. He just hasn't developed facial hair yet, it seems. It's rather puzzling.'

'Maybe it's Internet Prepubescence,' said Howie, looking sadly at his old friend.

'IP? We're quite sure that he does have it, but every time we try to tell him, he protests about being labelled. And what can you say to that?'

'Nothing,' said Howie, shaking his head. 'Absolutely nothing.'

ClouD had a laptop in his, well, lap. He was continuously pressing keys on it, and a constant stream of muttering escaped his lips.

Howie and Daniel drew closer. 'What is that he's muttering?' whispered Howie.

'We recorded some of it once,' said Daniel. 'As far as we can tell . . . all he's saying is the word “Moderator” over and over again.'

'Oh dear,' breathed Howie.

ClouD suddenly snapped his head up. He focused on Daniel for a moment, and grinned. Then he looked over to Howie. His eyes lit up.

'My fellow staff member!' he said. 'I have been moderating! I have been keeping the noble laws of Dreamviews upheld!'

'You remember me?' said Howie, smiling grimly.

'Of course!' said ClouD. 'You are a staff member, like I am. I am a staff member for Dreamviews.'

'Yes,' said Howie sadly. 'Yes you were.'

ClouD leaned forward, as if letting go of a deep secret. 'I think you confused are and were there, fellow staff member. Because I am a staff member for Dreamviews. I am a Moderator.'

'Dreamviews hasn't been up since the Crash,' said Howie kindly. 'We all know that.'

ClouD frowned. 'The Crash, fellow staff member?'

Howie looked to Daniel for help, who nodded at the laptop in ClouD's hands. Howie slid beside ClouD and looked at the laptop.

The screen was empty apart from, scrawled in blue marker: Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member).

ClouD looked up at Howie, grinning madly. 'Did you know that A Roxxor is actually Seismosaur, fellow staff member? I've banned him, with my Moderating powers. Because I am a Moderator for Dreamviews, fellow staff member.' He pointed to some writing below “Dreamviews”.

Scrawled there were the words: A ROXXOR IS ACTUALLY SEISMOSAUR. HE IS BANNED.

Next to it was a badly drawn hammer, hitting a stick figure in the head. And below that: I HAVE BANNED A ROXXOR (WHO WAS ACTUALLY SEISMOSAUR!!!)

'Well done,' said Howie kindly. 'How are you doing, ClouD?'

'My welfare is of no concern. I am moderating Dreamviews,' hissed ClouD. He turned back to his laptop.

Howie drew Daniel to one side.

'He's obsessed with Dreamviews!' he said.

'Despite not knowing what Dreamviews is, sir, I would be forced to agree,' said Daniel, shaking his head at ClouD.

'We promoted him because it sounded like a good idea at the time. We never knew this would happen!'

They both stared in silence at ClouD's frantically tapping fingers.

'Is it all right if I have some time alone with him?' said Howie.

Daniel looked affronted for a moment. 'But-' he began.

'Please,' said Howie.

Daniel hesitated. 'All right,' he said. 'But just a few minutes.'

'Of course,' said Howie. With any luck, a few minutes would be all he needed. Daniel left, leaving them alone.

Howie sat in front of ClouD again. 'I need a favour,' he said after a while.
ClouD paused for a moment. 'A favour?' he said.

'I need to know where people are. I need to know what they're doing. People from Dreamviews.'

'Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member)?'

'Yes,' said Howie quietly. 'I'm rebuilding it. I'm raising Dreamviews again, ClouD! Bigger and better!'

ClouD looked down at his laptop. 'But Dreamviews is alive,' he said. 'In fact, Carousoul just posted a rather amusing comment. I have responded with “Lul”.'

'Of course,' said Howie. 'It must have slipped my mind. I still need people, though. We're . . . having a get together.'

'A get together!' said ClouD. 'Of fellow people from Dreamviews (of which I am a staff member)!'

'Yes. I need names, and locations. I know you wrote them down. You liked to make lists of your “Top People”.'

'I still do, fellow staff member,' said ClouD. 'I do believe I have a list in here somewhere . . .'

ClouD began to rummage around in his pockets. He withdrew a crumpled piece of paper. Howie reached out to take it, but ClouD pulled it back and sniffed it carefully. 'Minty!' he said, and handed it over. Howie sniffed it carefully. It did not smell minty at all.

'Thank you for this, ClouD. My eternal gratefulness.'

'Can I come?' said ClouD. 'To the meeting? To see my fellow staff members?'

'I doubt they'll let you come,' said Howie. 'But just in case . . .'

He ripped a corner off the list, and wrote and address down. He handed it to ClouD.

'Go there before the 8th of November, if you get the opportunity. That's the meeting place.'

ClouD nodded sagely. He secreted away the address somewhere in his grubby clothes, and turned back to his laptop.

With a remarkable sense of occasion, Daniel poked his head through the doorway. 'Time's up,' he said quietly. Howie nodded. He turned to ClouD, who was staring madly at his laptop.

'Good luck, friend,' said Howie. 'Live long and prosper.'

'Live long and prosper?' said Daniel, as they exited the room. 'Really?'

Howie coughed. 'It seemed appropriate,' he said haughtily. Daniel gave a short bark of laughter.

'It seems to me,' he said, 'there's not a lot of life going on round here, and absolutely no prospering.'

'Do you want to come to the meeting?' said Howie. 'You'd be a good asset.'

'I do not know what you're talking about,' said Daniel. 'This way, sir . . .'

And Howie left, to the mad laughter of Mr Natas.

**Invader** · 02-22-2009 09:44 AM

Hahahahaha, brilliant. I enjoyed that thoroughly.

Next to it was a badly drawn hammer, hitting a stick figure in the head. And below that: I HAVE BANNED A ROXXOR (WHO WAS ACTUALLY SEISMOSAUR!!!)

Write moar!

**ClouD** · 02-22-2009 10:16 AM

Absolutely EPIC. Win win win.

**Kiza** · 02-22-2009 10:20 AM

You two are my new favourite people.

**Vira** · 02-22-2009 10:27 AM

Write more or I shall never give you a cookie!

**Sandform** · 02-22-2009 11:24 AM

The laughter ensues. And then is attacked by a valiant knight of sanity.

Poor knight, he never had a chance to combat the laughter which emerged in light of the insanity in your writing.

**Kiza** · 02-22-2009 11:26 AM

I'll take that as a compliment.

And V, I have enough cookies. I have no need for more. But more shall be written, in any case.

**no-Name** · 02-22-2009 05:02 PM

This is amazing.

In before move to DV favorites, absolutely incredible.

MORE MORE MORE!!!

**panta-rei** · 02-22-2009 09:34 PM

Awesome. Keep it up.

**Techno** · 02-22-2009 09:40 PM

Good work, sir.

**Xox** · 02-23-2009 02:44 AM

Kiza, I'm impressed. Moar plz.

**Kushna Mufeed** · 02-23-2009 03:21 AM

Yes! I'm loving this!

I can haz role, plz?

**Kiza** · 02-23-2009 07:08 AM

Belated thank-yous for the enthusiasm, guys.

Many of you shall have roles. You shall see. New update (chapter, installation?) today, if all goes well.

**Kiza** · 02-23-2009 09:33 AM

Unexpected speed has forced this out like a premature baby.

Ahem.

Cats, Cats, and More Cats

The morning light shown in through the safely madman-proof windows of the Interweb Institution For the Differently Sane. It shone in on Mr Herr's salty, salty tears; he had dropped his complimentary lollipop.

It shone in on room 665, where Mr Natas was currently counting. He was currently up to 650, and was feeling quite apprehensive.

And it shone on room 666, where there was nothing but the sound of frantic typing, and a low-key muttering. The muttering seemed to be some sort of chant:

'Dramaviews, dramaviews, drama, drama, drama . . .'

ClouD was having fun. A fight had erupted over seemingly nothing, as was the custom on the Internet. He was currently writing a stern reply to both parties, but secretly laughing.

He might have been making it too obvious he was laughing, however. Perhaps the large caps LULZ in parentheses were a bad idea.

Well, even if they figured it out, they couldn't persecute him. He was a staff member. For Dreamviews. They were just lowly members. He gave a maniacal laugh, for the feel of it. Mr Natas next door responded with style, blowing ClouD's laugh out of the roof, and beating up it's parents.

ClouD watched it go, and waved it goodbye. Then he turned back to his laptop. Holes in the roof were nothing. Misspelled accusations of homosexuality were much more exciting. He finished off his post:

Please stop fighting.

I will give exactly seven reasons for this request:

1.You are disturbing the pigeons.
2.You are disturbing me.
3.Therefore, logically, I am a pigeon.
4.Coo, coo.

I'm going to have to lock this thread. Stop being idiots. Also, get me a sammich. I'm hungry. Less crunchy bones this time. The strange men in white coats disapproved. The reason why I can lock this thread is that I am a moderator, and you are not. Ergo, I am better.

Deal with it.

Where's that sammich?

To conclude, I am a pigeon. To lighten up the locking of this thread, I have imported a humorous picture of a cat:

(I believe this is funny because the cat is a “ninja” due to it kicking the dog in the face. Apparently he is a ten of them, as well. Possibly this is due to a temporal anomaly. You will enjoy this picture. I order you to.)

If I am a pigeon, how can I talk?

ClouD looked his post over. Yes. Everything seemed to be in order.

He turned and rang a bell hanging from the ceiling frantically. There was some scrabbling on the other side of the door, and a nurse poked her head in cautiously.

'Yes, Mr ClouD?'

'Fetch Daniel. Story time!'

The nurse looked puzzled. 'Story time?' ClouD fixed her with a gaze as cold as Hitler's very soul.

'Yes,' he said. 'Story time. Daniel will have fun. I will have fun. Fun shall be had.'

'Yes,' said the nurse nervously. 'Yes, of course.'

ClouD clapped his hands frantically as she left. He turned back to Dreamviews, and moderated.

Sometimes he wondered why everyone around him kept insisting Dreamviews didn't exist. They acted as if he was insane. Like he was some sort of madman.

He typed: 'It's alive! It's alive!' into an empty text box, then wondered why he had.

There was something in his pocket. He could hear it in there, whispering. He pulled it out. It was the address that his fellow staff member had given him. He stared at it for some time.

He would go there, he decided. As soon as he escaped from these people. They were obviously crazy, keeping an innocent man locked up.

There was a knock on the door, and a call of 'Are you decent, ClouD?'

ClouD considered this. He hazarded a guess at 'Yes.'

Daniel Danciu entered, carrying a tray. It had an orange on it, sliced into quarters. Daniel lay the tray down in front of ClouD. ClouD eyed them for a moment.

'Do you feel lucky, punk?' he asked one of them.

'No!' it replied. 'But I do want you to eat me!'

ClouD complied with it's request.

'Let's tell a story!' he said to Daniel, once he was done. 'I'll start: a million intertwining universes, falling, breaking, creating . . .'

Daniel sighed. Sometimes, things got old. But he had to play along. What else could he do?

*

Howie had woken up on the wrong side of the bed; the one with all the cockroaches. To be fair, the other side of the bed wasn't exactly the right side of the bed either, due to all the snails.

It wasn't a motel six. It was the kind of place that strived to be a motel six. But it was somewhere to sleep, for the moment. It wasn't somewhere you stayed. It was somewhere you left.

There was one complimentary sachet of coffee. The stuff inside looked like tobacco, and ended up tasting of tar.

A wonderful start to the day.

Now, who was next? Howie scrabbled for the list poor ClouD had given him. He looked to the top name-

-but a name caught his eye. A name starting with s. It was right at the bottom of the list, under the subheading “Really Strange People.”

That would work. The man was valuable, despite appearances. He looked at the address scribbled next to the name: 3120 Felein Street. That was just like him.

He didn't lock the door on the way out. There was nothing to steal.

*

It was a messy garden. Howie got the feeling that it didn't have to be a clean one. There were some messy bushes that looked as if they were designed by God after a bad night, and a rusted bicycle, in which a few magpies roosted. They looked at him warily.

There were the creatures, too. They were all in various stages of skittering about, and they were all very disturbing.

This was where he lived. The One of The Cats. Howie had never been here. Slayer hadn't liked people meeting at his house, for some reason.

He could see why. Slayer's house could turn a red-blooded, bible-thumping American into an extremist terrorist, just by looking at it.

Howie opened the gate, which promptly fell over.

Why was here? Slayer wasn't really the first person you'd go to in a crisis. More like the last, just after Satan himself. But he had the Secret. The Secret within his eyes. Look into those tortured things, and you'd see the Secret, in all it's glory.

Howie was sure he heard a few disturbing little crunches as he walked up the dusty path. He absentmindedly wiped his feet on the welcome mat, which didn't look very welcoming at all.

He knocked on the door. There was an eruption of scrabbling, and a persistent hissing noise. Howie nearly turned and walked away then. But this was important.

Some unintelligible shouting came from inside. More scrabbling, more hissing.

The shouting became relatively intelligible. Howie thought he heard, 'No, no!'

The door opened a fraction. An eye peeked out, which widened as it saw him. The door closed.

'Slayer!' called out Howie. 'I know it's you in there!'

'I know no slayer!'

'No capital letter!' said Howie. 'You know how it's pronounced.'

There was a pause, punctuated by muttering, and the constant sound of hissing. Then a sigh.

'Damn,' said slayer quietly. 'Come in, if you must.'

The door opened fully. Slayer scowled at him. Howie grinned back.

And then he saw the cats.

They were everywhere. They rested on couches, on a television, on bookcases, on cupboards, on each other. The hissing had been coming from two cats by the door, fighting. They might have been having fun, if your idea of having fun was violently digging your claws into your opponents face.

Two were mating in the corner. No one seemed to be making much of a fuss.

'Oh,' said Howie. There really wasn't much he could say, apart from 'Oh god, oh god, oh dear god!' which might just have been considered impolite. He managed to tear his gaze away from the room, and onto slayer.

He was wearing a toga. A damn toga.

'You're wearing a toga,' said Howie.

'Like an Egyptian?' said slayer eagerly, while ushering Howie in.

Howie paused for a moment. What? 'I . . . guess,' he said slowly. Slayer grinned.

'Good,' he said. It was very dark in the room. Howie said so.

'Would you like some light?' said slayer. 'I believe I have a light switch in here somewhere.' He edged past a mysterious box, jumped over a few cats, and ran his hand along the wall. 'I don't use it much, you see,' he added. 'Apart from when I need to take a clearer picture of the cats. Found it!'

A lone light flickered on, and Howie nearly jumped in surprise.

The walls were covered in cats: lolcats, normal pictures of cats, drawings of cats, pictures of slayer looking at cats, pictures of slayer drawing cats, pictures of slayer looking at pictures of slayer looking at cats . . .

'Coochie coo,' said slayer, who was kneeling down and scratching a cat under the chin. 'Hello Miggles. And you, Big Jim. And little Jim, of course. And you, Mitzie.'

Mitzie . . . hang on!

'Mitzie?' said Howie. 'You named a cat after her?'

'Oh yes,' said slayer. 'Who's a good girl? You are, you little scamp. No, you.'

'Is there somewhere I can sit down?' said Howie weakly.

'Sit down?' said slayer. 'Oh yes. Sitting. With chairs. I may have something around here . . .'

In the end, it turned out to be an upturned box. “Pictures of cats” was wrote on the side. Howie took a picture out of the box. It showed slayer, and a lot of cats. He took another, and another. They all showed slayer, with an ever-increasing amount of cats.

Slayer came in, bearing a tray of dry biscuits and some suspiciously looking water. 'I'm sorry if this isn't that good,' he said. 'I'm afraid my time and money is rather taken up with the cats.'

He laid the tray down on a tiny card table, and drew up a box for himself. Howie opened his mouth to talk, but was interrupted as a particularly large cat jumped up onto his lap with scrotum-crushing force. It pawed around his lap for a while, then sniffed him. When he had found him satisfactory, he settled down. Howie lowered his hands to pick him up.

'Unless you want reconstructive surgery,' said slayer. 'I would advise you let him stay there.' He was carefully eating a biscuit, and staring at Howie curiously. 'Big Jim does get rather angry.'

Howie raised his hands carefully.

'First of all,' he said. 'The toga. That wasn't the point of meeting you, but . . . well, you're wearing a toga.'

He shouldn't have asked it. Slayer's eyes lit up, as an opportunity to inform someone about cats presented itself.

'Bast!' said slayer. 'The Egyptian god of . . . no, you guess!'

Howie's heart sunk. 'Cats?'

'No, she's a goddess of the sun. But she is a cat! Isn't that exciting?'

'And you've dressed up like an Egyptian,' said Howie flatly. 'Because you wanted to be like her.'

'Oh no,' said slayer. 'I've dressed up like an Egyptian for a fancy dress party!'

'A fancy dress party?'

'Yes! I'm holding it here,' said slayer.

'Oh? Who's coming?'

'Well . . . Big Jim, Little Jim, Stinky Sam, Pleasant Sam, Mitzie-'

'-you mean it's you and the cats?'

'Yes,' said slayer. He frowned. 'Is there something wrong with that?'

Howie paused. He could start a discussion here, but that wasn't the point of the visit. He was getting off track, and into dangerous territory. Very dangerous territory. He could swear slayer was breathing heavier than usual.

'No,' he said. 'Not at all.' He picked up a biscuit, and nibbled on it absentmindedly. 'I've come here about Dreamviews, slayer.'

Slayer froze. 'Dreamviews? I don't want to talk about Dreamviews. Not since the Crash, Howie! Not since asher took us and sold us!'

'But-'

'No! Dreamviews is dead!'

Howie leaned forward. 'I'm rebuilding it, slayer. I'm getting all the core members, and I'm rebuilding it again! We'll have it community run, not an asher-tyranny. We can have all new rules! “At least one cat girl is required in each thread”, maybe. I'll make a whole thread for cat-girls. Hell, I'll make a whole subforum for them!'

Slayer hesitated. Howie could see the hope clicking into place. A whole place for cat-girls? Wonderful!

'I'll think about it,' said slayer. 'Come back in the morning.'

'Just “come back in the morning”?'

'Yes,' said slayer. 'It is time to feed the cats.' Slayer stood up, taking the tray with him. 'Come, cats,' he said over his shoulder. A roar of meows met Howie's ears. A river of cats formed, biting, scratching, yowling. They followed slayer into the kitchen.

Slayer turned back for a moment. 'I advise you to go,' he said. 'This may take some time.'

Howie left. The gate was open.

**Vira** · 02-23-2009 09:55 AM

XD PURE GENIUS! LOL! I love it all! I can't give you cookies so a....this will do! -Glomps-

**Howie** · 02-23-2009 09:18 PM

Where on earth did the creativity surface to write this Kiza?
What inspired you?

Wow.

**Kiza** · 02-23-2009 10:21 PM

Just from watching Dreamviews members and their . . . let's say quirks, because other words may be unkind.

New installment is already being written. If all goes well again, there should be another approximate midnight release.