Author Topic: The Power of a Name (A Short Story of Dreamworld)  (Read 1448 times)

Offline JoannaB

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The Power of a Name (A Short Story of Dreamworld)
« on: January 26, 2014, 09:39:52 AM »

(Note: This story, unlike others was woven out of dreams I have had combined with daytime imagination.)

Setting: a millinary shop inside dream world.
Characters: Three women at first

- Could you hand me that one? Yes, that one. Let me try it on. Look at myself in the mirror. Does it go well with my hair? Does it suit my personality? Ann is a good name, full of independence and leadership potential. I could be in charge with that name, and yet be merciful and just. It is a good name.

- Yes, it is. But it definitely does not go well with your hair, and your face would look dwarfed underneath it, your eyes are hidden under the brim of that name, and it looks as if it had been a hand me down from your older sister. I think Bonnie would suit you much better, such a pretty and charming name. Bonnie would neither cover your eyes nor fall off your head, even if the wind blew heavily. You could tie it with a ribbon under your chin for extra security.

- You guys are so lucky to get to try on your own names. My mother intends to take me to the high priestess tomorrow to assign me a name of my mother's choice.

- What?! But that's impossible. She will be able to always control you then. You will never really get to grow up. Your independence throttled. Your head confined in the palm of your mother's hand. Can't she see what mistake she is making?

- More to the point, can't you see what mistake you are making by letting her. You do not have to obey her in this you know. You can choose who you want to be. You can choose your own hat, and wear it proudly. Are you a mouse or a girl?

- I can't. I have tried, but every time I turn that way, I see death. A chandelier exploded on my head, not once but twice, covering my head with shards of glass. Then i was a body drowned in the bottom of a river, and not even a real body, just a mannequin whose head came off due to the river's current. A mannequin does not get her own name, and a hat will not stay on a head that floats away. Better to have my mother in control of me, than myself completely out of any control.

I also saw myself having a baby, but the baby was a monster, and the tears flooded out of her so vehemently that she flooded the entire room, and then the house, and then the town, until the entire world was flooded by my baby's tears. All because I had to take the toy away from her, using a mop I extracted the toy from my baby monster's cradle, and I tried to then mop up the tears, but there were too many of them. I wondered who the monster really was, was it really the baby, or was it me. No, I did not look like an octopus, and I did not glow in the dark, nor grow exponentially, but I acted the monster more than she did. The flooding of the world had after all been an unfortunate mistake, collateral damage, for which one could not hold the baby responsible. So you see, I do not deserve my own name, as I take the burden of the world onto myself, lift her up by the axle, and carry her, wheels still spinning, to the mechanics, but without hope of her being truly fixed.

- What you need is a name like Caroline, a name that would set you free, instill self confidence that you now lack. Let us look for a Caroline hat for you, and have your naming ceremony right here in this changing room, without a high priestess and without your mother. Those visions do not have to come true, you know, especially if you had a hat named Caroline. Those kind of things do not happen to Carolines.

Here, grab a hold of this ribbon which we will use to tie the name to your head. Imagine that the ribbon is a wire with strong current pumping through it, pulsating with a charge, connected to all other ribbons and threads and people and names in a Web. Reality is a web. Do you see its nature now? Do you see how it works? Can you reverse the current, to instead of bombarding you with power emit your own pulse in your individual frequency.

- Yes! I can see clearly now. The web is real, and this changing room is illusionary. I do not need a name. The high priestess and my mother are coming. They wish to stop me. The fools. Noone can stop me now. I choose who I am. I choose who I am with. I choose you to be male, one of you anyway, and the other I do not need any more. Dissolve. And you, kiss me. Kiss me hard to help me forget and then remember, lost and found in your embrace. The hat is not a hat any more: it is a canopy above us, and I name it George, so it can work better at what canopies do best.

Offline Rebel Seven

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Re: The Power of a Name (A Short Story of Dreamworld)
« Reply #1 on: March 22, 2016, 03:48:45 PM »
I miss these stories.....
Sol rests her head on her great celestial pillow, and I rise from my sun-soaked slumber to claim the night.