Very short chapter. Almost could've written "bump" and added the same amount to the thread (j/k, it's not that devoid of substance), BUT the next chapter will be his fight with the Mauville gym leader Wattson. The title of that chapter will be Cinderella Man.
Okay, here's Dreaming
A Dream Disturbed
Roger wants to know. He's with us because he's interested in the advanced statistics behind his psychic pokemon's predictive powers, not because he first valued us as companions. Even now as we're sitting in his living room sharing his beer, he's thinking "this is a necessary event" not "this is a good time".
Knowing is a drug. It gets you high, your mind craves it, your body craves it like a vitamin.
I'm thinking of vitamin Knowitol.
"I don't think we should be drinking while you explain this to us, Roger," Will points out before throwing his head back to finish another one.
"It's pretty simple. I could tell you in your sleep and you'd remember. I'm giving you this camera and these voice recorders and I want you to take as much footage as possible."
I'm picking up the DX720 handheld camera and clumsily fiddling around with it to find the "on" button.
"Are you trying to test the equipment or molest the equipment, Mike?" Will asks.
I crack a wide smile. I'm not that interesting of a drunk. I just become more easily amused.
"We shall record what you say, Roger. Then when we are completely sober, we'll have a record of it." Will and Janine are smiling and looking at me as I lay sideways on Roger's reclining chair with the camera sideways in my hand and a focused eye peering through the lens.
Shortly after saying this, I fall asleep. It's a combination of the five beers and exhaustion from the rest of the day.
I'm in an office, wearing pajamas.
"Do you have extra pants here? I need them for an interview."
The lady at the front desk asks me if she looks like she's wearing pants.
I say that I can't see because she's behind the desk, and then I try to walk around.
It's somehow so difficult to get around the desk and I lose sight of her for a moment, then I'm not looking for her any more. Do I still need pants? The man in front of me doesn't seem to mind.
"Come this way, sir."
And he leads me around the corner where a desk sits in an empty room. Empty besides the desk and the man sitting at the desk. He's ignoring my pajamas. Maybe I'm exuding a confidence and professionalism that has somehow allowed me to transcend all physical assessment. This man walking in front of me sees a knight in pajamas. Do I have some aura about me that removes all doubt about my level of diligence, poise, and ability?
"This is not a place for pajamas, son."
No, I don't. Aura theory squashed. I'm an ******* in pajamas.
"Where do you see yourself in six months, son?"
I went to a class for this. It was called "Interviewing". I passed, but somehow it didn't stick.
"Six feet under" comes out without any conscious thought.
"As in dead? You see yourself dead in six months?"
"Yeah."
A waitress brings a water to our table. It's the same waitress from the restaurant yesterday. She's still not interested in what's going on with me. Automatically, she places the glass down and then turns around, pulls a pen and pad out, circles about, making her rounds, jotting other orders now. But we're the only table. The only desk in the room.
"Where do you see yourself six years from now?"
"What's the next stop for a derailed train?" I retort. "Didn't you hear my first answer?"
always be supremely respectful of the interviewer. A personal component exists in the professional world that is just as important as your credentials. It's why they called you in for the interview.
-pg. 123, Interview Etiquette
"What can you offer this company if you're only going to be around for a few months, then? Why are you here?"
"I make good fertilizer. Before and after death."
"That's crude."
"Yes it is." I realize that I'm dreaming now. Does that mean it's almost over?
Or am I already fertilizer?
You're a tall drink of water, but then you're piss.
You're a talented trainer, then you're fertilizer.
Something from the outside usually creeps in and interrupts the dream. The windows in this one room are letting a lot of sun in. I don't remember the windows being this large when I walked in.
The light is getting brighter and for a half second I'm wondering where the man at the desk went as I open my eyes and realize I never left Roger's living room. Will is standing by the blinds, leaned against the wall with one hand twisting them open.
"We should get going. It's almost one."
"Oh ****, really?" The adrenaline rush overcomes my inertia and I get up off Roger's recliner. How the **** was I sleeping? My back feels terrible.
Will and I are walking home down a dusty road. The sun is right above our heads. I'm carrying the camera, Will's got a bag with other recorders in strapped over his shoulders.
[REC]
"Will, do you think the after life is like a dream? I mean, is it just..." Before I can finish
"I think the afterlife is a dream we have now."
"I hope not. In my dream last night I joked about my own death, but I just don't know how I really feel about it. Do I really believe I'm dying? I feel it's really sinking in now. I'm just feeling really heavy about it right now, you know?"
"Don't get down. Don't worry about it right now."
When am I supposed to worry about it?
I raise the camera up from my side and try to take in something worthwhile.
"When are you going to try again?" Will asks. "Let's ****in' get out of Mauville, man."
Is he trying to distract my attention away from death?
"I will challenge Wattson the very next chance I get."
"Ha! I'm glad to hear it! That's tomorrow, Mike."
One shot of panic. Quick, chase it with some reassurance!
"Well, I've had a lot of practice just by making money for rent since my last battle. I should be fine."
[/REC]
".