Amurehna

I had intended to do either one long post or a few when I returned, because I didn't know if I would have reliable internet access. It seems I do, though! And this one was interesting enough to post.

Part 1: Singing in Rome
There's a dead-end cobblestone street with buildings on the right side and dumpsters lined up on the left. The dumpsters are large for Italy, more like in America. There are people scattered everywhere, I can hear a radio playing and a girl singing along. The song changes, she stops, and a man begins singing in a charming tenor. When the song changes to 'Gonna Get Over You' by Sara Bareilles and the girl joins in, I start to sing too. She starts to skip down the street in time to the music, and before I follow her I realize that someone has covered the song, as it is higher than I'm used to.
People lined up along the dumpsters think that I am mocking the woman skipping away, so I stop trying to sync with her. When I walk back toward the dead end there is another woman, this one has long dark hair, tanned skin and black eyes, wearing a red tank top. I am singing 'Hate to See Your Heart Break' by Paramore, so when she says "Nice!"
I think she is talking to me. I start to thank her, and she quickly corrects me in heavily accented English.
"Singing, no. Look at where we are! Roma!" She laughs and lightly smacks my arm with the back of her hand. I am not offended, it is beautiful here.

Part 2: Running in Rome
The road is incredibly dark when we run to cross it and from where I remember the curb to be, I take a light leaping step to make sure I do not trip and fall. I run with my dad to the other side of an obstruction, where the sidewalk is elevated ten feet above the beginning part. We climb up.
"Do you think it's safe?" He asks me.
"I suppose." I answer. There aren't any people about.
"Maybe for you, I'm running around with money in my hand!"
I roll my eyes. I guess we're trying to find a bank? We find, once we climb up, that the rest of the street is destroyed and decide to turn back. Except it is too dark to see. So I take out my phone, thinking we can use it for light but he has moved ahead and is impatiently gesturing for me to follow. Oookay.
The obstruction is mostly white rubble with a stupidly wide ornate pillar and a rectangular piece of carved marble over the 'doorway'. I climb out after him, shove my phone in my pocket, and then try to hold onto the pillar without falling. It's too wide for me, since I am tiny. I slide down a little. I get to the other side and my dad is waiting in a super inconvenient spot so that I slip when I drop down beside him. He catches me, kind of, and swings me down to a flat grassy surface in front of the door. Somehow I've caught a hold of the decorative over-the-door piece and tear it off when drop. I let it go and it hits the ground, crumbling to tiny pieces.
"I probably could have put that down gently. Being a piece of history and all..." I say, frowning at the pieces. My dad shrugs his indifference.

Part 3: Lucid Rescue!!!
I am sitting in the very first seat of a public bus with a half full styrofoam cup of very american coffee. I stir the creamer in and take a sip. It is day outside but the bus window is tinted black glass. It's very peaceful and feels real. Even when I rest my forehead against the window. I don't immediately become lucid, it sort of creeps up on me. I frown down at my coffee, then at the window, and what is outside. This feels very strange.

"Obviously I am dreaming...there isn't even someone driving the bus."

As I think this I lean over a little and examine the driver's seat, it is hidden in shadow. I feel its potential to become something creepy, so I avert my eyes and take another sip of coffee. I suppose I could test it, at the very worst I'll get arrested for vandalism. Except this is a dream....soooo
I press my hand flat against the glass and push outward, the glass is now plastic and bows a little. Then I realize there is a bus driver, it's my dad.

"What are you doing?" He asks me, aghast.
"Flying sounds really neat right now." I tell him, then down the rest of

my coffee. It acts as an extreme stimulant and I shove the plastic out of the bus frame entirely. Then I start to climb out. I am not entirely lucid, part of me thinks this could be real, and it is that part that creates the seat belt which tethers me to the bus.
Outside the world is a wreck, there are cars/buses/motorcycles on every flat surface that could be used for driving as every person in Rome participates in a mass exodus from the city. It is this that convinces me I am dreaming. Also that I am already flying, but it feels like I am hanging from the bus. My dad appears in the window and grabs ahold of the seat belt with a triumphant 'aha!'. He tries to draw me in but my will is stronger. He looks worried.

I console him, "Don't worry! I'm completely lucid! I'm going to go on a trip, you can even come with me."

He doesn't look so inclined.

"But Julie, the fanny pack!" He says, thrusting his hand toward me. Ah, yes. I am wearing it, and it holds his money

and identification within. I'm not offended, I laugh.

"Oh, I see how it is."

I unbuckle the fanny pack and, holding one strap, I swing it to him. When he has a hold of it, I release the seat belt and the strap, and start to fly away. He tries to follow me out and falls. I don't believe anything bad will happen, so he is only stunned.
With an exultant cry I race into the clouds, heading toward a mossy green mountain range, all the peaks are flat and have ruins on top of them.
The sky is beautiful with large white clouds.
I can't recall all of this. At some point I begin to lose altitude and land in the water. The dream becomes brittle and when I try to rise into the sky, it becomes night and the clouds turn to crumpled masses of creamy paper. Startled by this development I fall back into the sea that has eaten Rome.

There's a lapse, I have made it back into the sky and after flying a great distance I find a u-shaped cobbled street

corner with houses on either side. It is still night, this part of the city is above water. There is a man and a woman trying to torture information out of a man, I catch part of their questioning, and land out of sight. When he refuses to respond they simply say they will go searching for 'her' since they know she is nearby.
When they leave I sneak over to where he lays prostrate on the cobbles, I didn't like the sound of the other two. The man is thin, of medium height, with sandy hair and beard, and blue eyes. He's wearing a blue polo and jean shorts. I pull him onto my back and make a run for it. I jump, as though to fly, but I can't seem to get into the air. I jump down an alley gasping words like "up! fly!" but of course they do nothing, I come to an elevated porch with a flight of stairs, the area below is obviously in water, and there's a mossy stone hill.
His face is right next to mine, he pants next to my ear.

"What are you doing?" He asks.
"If I can get enough altitude I can fly us away."
I can clearly feel his concern.
"Here, it'll be easier if you get on piggy-back."
"Are you sure..." Even in his disoriented state he has noticed I'm quite small.
I laugh, "I'm stronger than I look. Don't worry about it."

He lifts one leg, then the other, into my waiting hands and I hoist him onto my back. His legs feel misshapen. I take a running leap down the stairs and for a moment I think I'm going to fly, then I crash down hard enough to hurt my feet.

"Fine, I guess we're running." I say and take off up the hill. He feels heavy on my back and my legs start to burn.

I curse aloud trying to convince myself in gasping whispers that since I'm dreaming, weight isn't real. It doesn't work. We only make it to the other side of the hill when he writhes suddenly on my back, makes a strangled noise, and vomits thick black goo all over my neck and shoulders.

"Put, AH, put me down!"

I do as he asks, feeling the goo start to harden and burn. I take his thin face between my hands, I need to know his name.

"Hey! Who are they? What's your name?" I ask. His eyes fix on mine.
"Ah, Nathaniel. Nate. They, ah, I was traveling with my--" he starts hacking and forgets what he's talking about.

"Nate, you were traveling with your wife? Karen?" It's a completely wild guess.

He gives me a confused look. "My wife? No. My daughter. Kate."
Nate and Kate. Cute. At least it started with a K.
I hear a woman's voice nearby, calling to her companion. A glowing white arrow appears in the water next to us. The cobbles are hard under my knees.
The goo burns more and with a startled yell, I fall over next to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I say to him.

"Thank you for trying." Then with the last of his strength he pushes me from him, I slide across the slick stone and

flop over onto my side into a thick patch of shadow. I know he hopes they will think I am dead and leave me alone.

I hear the woman again, taunting Nate. She tells him that his wife stole shirts on a sojourn into Africa.
"Who steals from Africa?" She laughs.
I see a little blonde-haired girl (Kate) in a zebra-print dress with a pink ribbon around the waist.