Things to Run Away From Really Fast

★★★☆☆

01/09/11

I just found a Star Wars game for my phone. I decide to try it out, so I'm tilting it left and right, figuring out the controls. Spacebar is jump.

I'm in the game. My surroundings are a dank green, covered in vines and rot. This was a school once. I try out the jump command, disappointed when I realize I have only first-level force jump. It doesn't matter; I'll be able to get around just fine.

Obi-Wan's shade appears beside me to explain my mission. This is strange, because I'm pretty sure I'm a past version of him. The force ghost fizzles out and disappears, exploding into four green blobs of goo. They reform and immediately begin to scuttle about, taking shape as Gravelings, mischievous reptilian creatures that arrange the accidental deaths of the people around them.

I strike with my single lightsaber, v-stepping in and twisting away after I cut through the torso of one of the gravelings. The creature goes still in shock, before it disintegrates in a flash of red sparks. With a sweep of my lightsaber, the others are scuttling away. I finish them off with force lightening.

Later, alone in an empty room, I suddenly realize that I'm dreaming. It feels like waking up. I try to remember my goals, but I come up blank. Fine - I'll run. I love to run in dreams. I take a running start and leap from a four-foot ledge.

In one reality, I can feel myself flying.
I drift away, into the blue, blue sky, heedless of the ceiling that used to be there. Simultaneously I'm falling, landing. I can feel the remnants of the other reality until all four of my limbs slowly reach the floor. I lay my forehead onto the cold cement and just breathe.

I see Zoe, walking away into a crowd of faceless people. I call out to her, chase after her. Her blonde hair swishes as she half turns, keeps walking.

We're sitting side by side, looking at the massive crowd milling about through the mall. She's counting the cash in a till.

"There's something you want to tell me," she says, flipping through a pile of five dollar bills.

"Yep."

She scowls, but doesn't turn to look at me. "Well?" she asks, "What is it?"

"You could say," I smile faintly, "That I have slightly more than platonic feelings for you."

Her hands go still. "Oh."

"But that doesn't matter," I say, leaning back.

"And why is that?"

"Because," I say, and I stretch my hands out in front of my face, "None of this is real."

And the dream dissolves into static.

Running. Scare Factor: 3.