I was in the future and we had discovered life from other galaxies.  It felt like I was watching myself on a big screen but at the same time I was actually participating within the “screen.”

I was sitting within a spacecraft, soaring through [outer space].  It was like one of those alien spaceships one sees on cartoons – a saucer-shaped thing with a clear, round dome covering the travelers inside.  I watched from inside my spaceship as an alien crawled across this glass dome – along the outside.  It was strange and fuzzy – mostly a tan color with a dark brown belly and black fingertips.  It had large, round eyes and reminded me of both a monkey and a strange, exotic marsupial.  It even had a long, black-tipped tail resembling a monkey’s.

Far behind this alien monkey, I could see a bizarre galaxy that glowed with a burning yellow color with a few [red] flames […] in the center – like a strange, twisted sun.  Extending from this galaxy was another galaxy, almost exactly like it, except smaller.  Around these two galaxies the stars swirled – tiny, white, brilliant specks […].

I was sitting next to a man who was also looking at all this from within the spacecraft.  He was an astronaut, a scientist, or a reporter, or maybe he was all three.  […] he held up some sort of plastic stick to take a sample of the […] galaxies, and he simply held the stick up to the glass dome of our spacecraft, touching the tip […] to where the galaxies were so far away on the other side of the glass.  And then it was as if he was bringing a stick away from a [candle flame], for the plastic instrument was alight with the galaxies’ fire burning at its tip. […]

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I saw the stars again not too long ago.  I was walking to my friend’s house […]. He lived with his mother and younger sister in a one-story house with a pink roof and candy decorations.  It reminded me of a gingerbread house.

On my way over, I looked up into the night sky and saw those […] stars […] above the rooftops and trees.  I […] stared at those […] pinpoint stars in their clear-cut constellations, with […] silver lines connecting them together to outline the star formations.  I remember seeing the [Big Dipper] distinctly […].  Some of the silver lines turned to flashes of crimson that streaked across the darkness.

[…] I remember thinking, It’s just like what I saw in my dream […] The Eskimo and the Stars.

Then I ran up to that gingerbread house and knocked hurriedly on the door.  My friend’s mother and younger sister appeared and I told them to look at the sky […].

And we […] stood there along with some of the neighbors who had come out onto their doorsteps to marvel at […] the stars.

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The Eskimo and the Stars

I remember seeing a lot of My Little Ponies dancing […] animated and full of color.  It was like I had fallen straight into a cartoon of My Little Pony.  There was one that […] was white with a purple mane and just one silver hoof in front, while all her other hooves were white.  When she dug this silver hoof into the cartoon dirt, the hoof sparkled […].

At some point, [I found myself in] a cold, wintry landscape covered with a thick layer of snow and ice.  Cutting through the middle of this frozen landscape was a great chasm bridged by a […] little wooden bridge that was old, rickety, and worn down by the ice that clung to its surface .  All this was beneath a sky that was pale blue and grayish – stark […].

I saw an Eskimo girl riding through the snow […] on a great wooden sled that was not like a sled at all.  It was huge […] – much larger than the girl – composed seemingly of a loose, shaky bunch of wooden crates and wooden boards that shook violently as this odd sled skimmed across the snow at a dangerously fast pace.  A large chunk broke off the back of her sled and […] I remember wondering whether she was able to handle the sled by herself […].  This small girl took the leather reins in her hands and pulled on them […] – and for an instant I thought that she would be okay.  But then [the] […] towering sled skidded across the ice and tipped over, sending the girl plunging into the abyss […].  She clung to the edge of the other side of the rift, her brown gloves gripping at the ice. […]

The next I remember, I was running beneath a clear night sky […].  I had a feeling that I was running towards the stars and if I reached them, I could be free, and it felt like I was getting closer […].  I sang to the stars as I ran […].  I knew that there were a few trees scattered among several modest houses behind me – that I shouldn’t be running from these things – but I had to run – the stars drew me out.  I was also aware that there was a little girl running behind me, trying to keep up.  She was small and afraid and she didn’t want to run.  It was hard to run, the houses and the trees drew me back, but I pushed forward […].

It felt like I was getting closer to where the sky arched over the earth and the closer I got to the stars the more vivid their constellations became to me.  They formed […] sparkling shapes […].  Silver lines connected the stars across the night sky, defining the constellations […].  A few of these silver lines became flashes of brilliant scarlet that streaked across the blackness – thin, red lines that seemed to rain onto the earth.  I watched as these constellations shifted before my eyes as if I was standing inside a kaleidoscope of stars.

A red streak flashed in the sky and […] an identical streak flashed beside me.  I heard the little girl behind me call my name frantically.  “We’ve gone beyond the bounds!” she cried.  […] Perhaps she was the Eskimo girl […].  I knew she was my friend and that she was telling me we had to go back.

And so we went back […] to the trees and the little wooden shacks.  Inside one of the shacks was a pair of bunkbeds […] directly after one passes through the front screen door.  It was a dirty place.  I sat down on one of the bunkbeds – the lower bunk – while the girl sat in the other lower bunk.  Instead of mattresses, there were those Japanese bamboo mats – “ta ta mis.”  The blanket was made out of wood too, as was the house and the […] bunkbeds.  As I sat down,  I remember thinking about torture and punishment, but I was more annoyed than afraid.  I […] knock[ed] a China bowl filled with dead insects onto the floor […], where it tipped over and spilled its contents out.  Those things had been on my bamboo bunkbed and they were used to torture us.

It wasn’t long before two men burst into the room and screamed, “You’ve been out of bounds!” […].  They talked with each other to decide who would administer the torture.  But then they didn’t seem to care anymore.  They seemed more like friends or acquaintances than captors.  I pointed at something out the window to distract them and they […] left.

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