applesaucedream | This is My Island in the Sun [Open to All]

The Rift wouldn't say it's sorry for the fit it threw the other day, because the Rift never needs to apologize. It is (mostly) perfect, and all of its decisions are well reasoned and just. Obviously. But perhaps it has fallen into a bit of a post-tantrum sulk, because this dream is milder than one might expect. In fact, it's downright nice.

The dreamers will find themselves in an archipelago of small islands - most only a few acres in size - connected by narrow strips of sand or pebbles. The surrounding waters are calm. Little waves lap against the shorelines, and no rising tide will cut the islands off from one another. The islands themselves seem to have been lifted from every climate zone on Earth and several from beyond. Some are tropical, some colder and home to hardy conifers, some mossy and boulder-strewn, some covered in multicolored sand and odd, coral-like trees.

Most of the islands boast some kind of manmade or otherwise non-native structure, be it as small as a bench or as large as a pavilion, though there are no houses or shops to be seen. It's more like parkland, just civilized enough for a nice picnic. Some of the islands even have little grills, and a sufficiently motivated dreamer might be able to rustle up some hot dog or burger fixings if they poke around a bit.

And they'll have an extra pair of eyes to help with their searching, because their beloved dæmons have returned… again. Or perhaps they're being introduced for the first time. Regardless, it's the bi-annual dæmon dream party!

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The Balladeer arches an eyebrow. "Have you thought about not standing where people sit?" Look, he really IS sorry, but it seems like a basic precaution to take if you're inches tall.

"I think so," the bird replies, ignoring what looks to be a brewing argument. "I look like one, don't I? But I only got here a few minutes ago, and we don't know very much about birds. Are you a - what, a coyote?" That seems likely, it's a pretty cowboy-ish animal.

"Don't you sass me!" retorts Jed. "I know my rights, and ain't no tenderfoot gonna come sit on me and tell me it's my own dang fault!"

His canine companion, meanwhile, remains perfectly cordial. "Looks like! Funny I never realized it before, seems kinda obvious now that I would be."

"It's just a suggestion." The Balladeer shrugs, still rather less upset than the tiny cowboy. "You'd probably run into a lot less of this."

"Does it?" the parrot asks in rapt interest. "I suppose so. I think I was always parrot-y, even before I was a parrot. Or me." You know what she means, don't you? You're like she is.

"Yeah, well --!" Jed gets a good running start at a retort, but seems to quickly run out of steam in the face of the bigger man's calm, logical argument. "Well, that may be so," he admits with the air of one who is still going to find issue somehow. "Bet you think you're real smart, don't you?"

"Oh, I ain't been me but for a few minutes now," admits the coyote readily. "Back home it's just him. Name's Clementine, and he's Jedediah."

The Balladeer cocks his head slightly. There's no real good way to answer that, is there? "I'm the Balladeer," he says instead, following up on the other conversation going on.

"And I'm, ah." The parrot cocks he head up at the Balladeer for a moment. "I'm a parrot."

It seems a little unsatisfactory, but the two of them exchange a glance and mentally agree to dismiss it. Now's not really the time to deal with that. "Nice to meet you." He guesses. "You're not...actually in New York, are you?" The Rift could certainly bring a tiny cowboy into the city, but that sounds like an extremely dangerous place for someone his size.

"Well, yeah," says Jed. "I'm over at the museum, where I've always been. Why, isn't this --"

And cue the belated realization that he's not in the museum. Jed startles as he really looks around himself for the first time, spinning in place to see all his surroundings. "But that ain't -- how'd I get here?!"

"The museum?" The Balladeer cocks an eyebrow; now that sounds like an interesting story. But he clearly doesn't know anything about the Rift, so he tries his best to sound reassuring. "You might still be there, I'm not sure. This is just a dream." He's met plenty of people in these things who never actually got stuck in Manhattan themselves - Teddy Roosevelt, for god's sake.

"That's why we're here," Beth comments to Clementine. "I'm pretty sure."

"Museum a' Natural History," confirms Jed, worry creeping in at the edges of his pride.

"It's daylight here," Clementine points out, nudging him with her nose. "Can't be real."

Jed nods, reassured but not reassured. He doesn't usually sleep and that means he doesn't usually dream, but at least it's possible. "So how come you're talking to me and tellin' me it's a dream if it's a dream? Seems to me most people in dreams don't know it."

The Balladeer exchanges a glance with Beth. "...yeah. I've been there."

They're gonna have to talk this out later, but it'd be rude to speculate on the tiny cowboy's story right in front of him. Ruder still to listen in and confirm. So alright, he'll just explain what he does know. "These kind, the shared ones, they happen pretty often around here. Once you've been in a few you start to recognize them."

For example, talking animals following everyone around aren't usually a sign of the real world.

"Where is here?" asks Jed. "Other'n an ocean, I can see that. You made it sound like you were in New York, too." Is it just because he doesn't sleep much that he doesn't know about this shared dream stuff? Sleeping when he's able to be awake just always seemed like a waste of time to him, he can sleep when he's inanimate.

"You been in many?" asks Clementine.

"I am in New York. This is just - " He sits back on his heels, looks around, and shrugs. " - a dream about islands, apparently. Never seen 'em before." Most of these dreams don't seem to draw from anyone's experience in particular. As far as he knows, at least; if they are, god help the slapstick comedy person.

Beth tilts her head. "Four or five. Most of them have been nice! There was one with a lot of treehouses, I liked that best."

"Huh." Jed considers this, hands on his hips as he looks past the Balladeer and gazes off down the beach. "Islands, huh? Can't say I ever been on an island before."

"Manhattan's an island," mutters Clementine and Jed flaps a hand at her as he makes a shushing noise.

"Don't get all technical. Can't say I ever been on a real island," he reiterates. "So what I'm thinking is we quit this jabberjawing and we get exploring, whaddya say? I might even forget that you tried to sit on me if you play your cards right."

This is My Island in the Sun [Open to All]

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