>>1087814
Okay, just give him your phone number then. Properly. Make sure he remembers it.

>>1087814

Wait, what? Not a good time?

Why? It's been days of this.

Should we go where he is? Would that work better? Fuck, we got paid, so we've got the cash to get a few bus tickets if need be.

"No excuses, Carter. I found something, in the physical world. Something powerful. If a mix it with this world... everything will fall into place. But I can't do it alone. You're the only other person who truly knows this experience - I need you.

Whatever is wrong, whatever you've lost, I'll do my best to bring it back. With this place and my project, I can."

Well not much you can do about that, can you? If he's going through something, you can't really force a meeting. Besides, would you want the first time you meet to be under bad circumstances? You're about to go into your new job, is it the best time for you?

>>1087853
He's probably got something going on in his personal life. Hell, maybe he's in the hospital at the moment.

There's probably something personal, maybe meeting is bad, but we can at least talk and text or something! I need more to go off than this avoidance! Why don't we swap phone numbers and emails at the very least??

Give him your phone number and maybe he can text you just once. You don't have to talk in the waking realm any more than that until he's ready to. Should be a reasonable compromise, right?

Tell him altight, but if he turns out to be the spooky metal man that shows up when you open your eyes disguising as cute little goatboy cuz he's lonely you'll be very upset he didn't explain earlier.

That being said, let's frolick through the dreamscape and will a lovely lake with our imagination!

Marlene Collins 2024/04/10(Wed)11:25 No. 1088445 ID: 2eb1da
File 171277351038.png - (185.51KB , 550x500 , 004.png )

Marlene: Not a good time? Look. You can’t drop it like that. This is day four for chrissakes! Give me a concrete reason to wait.

Marlene: I can buy a bus ticket and be right at your doorstep. I mean, I can’t do that immediately since I recently got my job back. But I have the means to!

Marlene: Otherwise I suppose you’re not real after all. Or a ghost.

Carter: I may as well be.

...

Marlene: I’m sorry--

Carter: No, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right. I guess it’s a mix of things. There is no absolute answer to why I’m... avoiding you. But it is my fault.

Carter: I’ve been alone my entire life; I’m somewhat of a shut-in. But everything is so easy here--the confidence comes naturally now. The intimacy of two close bodies. The desire to feel you--someone--in my arms.

Carter: Yet when I awake in the real world, I just find the thought so ridiculous to commit. I’m only kidding myself; we’re not two high school internet lovers. You have a boyfriend and ambitions, and I probably won’t fit anywhere in your life. Even as a friend in the real world.

Marlene: Is it agoraphobia?

Carter: tch--fuck if I know. I just don’t have a place ‘out there’.

Carter: Sometimes I believe I’ve imagined this place growing up. Maybe it’s a wish come true. I finally get my deserved reward after bearing all the loneliness and pain.

Carter: I wish I could stay here even when you’re gone.

Marlene Collins 2024/04/10(Wed)11:25 No. 1088446 ID: 2eb1da
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>A contingency plan would be good.
>Why don’t we swap phone numbers and emails at the very least?
I calm down a bit. I believe I understand what he’s going through. I can’t really force a meeting if he’s falling on difficult times. But I know with enough patience we will one day meet face-to-face.

I kneel down to him.

Marlene: Hey. I get it. I really do. I’ll try to back off a bit.

Marlene: We won’t know for sure if this may even be our last dream together. But if you can’t share an address or a number--why not a landmark in case we split?

Marlene: Or while I’m at it, I’m giving you my phone number now.

Marlene: And you better remember it. I’ll be quizzing you.

Carter: Alright. I’ll try.

The area code isn’t too important; if forgotten he can just look it up online. With the remaining 7 digits I try a mnemonic as best I can.

Marlene: And if you muster up the courage to leave home--you ought to stop by Brook’s Clove: just ask for someone named Emmylou, she’s my best friend. She’ll get in touch with me one way or another.

Marlene: If... for some reason we lose our phones, I guess.

Carter: Okay. Thank you. I’ll do my best.

Marlene: Come on, let’s walk a bit; this is a nice place. Maybe there’ll be a lake or something. Who knows?

Marlene Collins 2024/04/10(Wed)11:26 No. 1088447 ID: 2eb1da
File 171277356922.png - (213.46KB , 550x500 , 006.png )

We travel; it’s hard to tell if it’s been days or minutes. But it’s pleasant. Our closeness makes it feel like I’m on a first date. I feel both the autumn breeze and summer sun. It’s an evening with a never-ending sunset with Carter by my side.

Marlene: All this wasn’t here before. I wonder why.

Carter: No animals. No insects. Yet I can hear or strangely feel distant cicadas. Or ambience of a faraway highway.

Carter: Do you know where you’re going?

Marlene: I don’t know. Yet--I feel like I’ve been here before. I can’t describe it.

Our walk continues for miles every step. Carter gently nudges my shoulder and stops walking.

Carter: Marlene, do you see what I see? Over there. There’s a building.

Marlene: For real? No way.

Indeed I see a house.

Carter: Do you think someone’s there?

Marlene: I see no tether busting through the roof. Besides. I know who lives there.

Carter: What?

Marlene: I think I figured out where we are.

Marlene: That’s the house I grew up in.

well, what are you waiting for? Go on in!

Hopefully this pleasant place wouldn't throw something sad at you. Check it out

You can “see” it with your eyes closed? I wonder what it’ll look like if you opened your eyes inside it.

Something evil probably. You don't need to open your eyes though. Just get a feel for the building and what might be there to find.

Go inside and get lost in the warm nostalgic smell of your mom's home made sweets.

Approach with enthusiastic caution

Marlene Collins 2024/04/29(Mon)11:39 No. 1090010 ID: 2eb1da
File 171441598229.png - (244.22KB , 550x500 , 007.png )

>You can ‘see’ it with your eyes closed?
Marlene: This brings up more questions. I’ve always thought I could indirectly see you because I sense your presence--even going as far as to say you’re a part of me, like another limb.

Marlene: But my house... it’s not alive. It’s not a part of me at all and I didn’t notice it at first. How does an object end up here?

Carter: It’s only a different part of you.

Marlene: That makes no sense.

Carter: I mean--uhm, not by feel, right?

Carter: --but by memory.

Marlene: Well I’m obviously going towards it.

Nearing it, the building is somewhat incomplete; it’s not quite held together correctly. But it’s definitely my house. I suppose my fondest memories would be my childhood--so yeah. Despite its unfinished state in the dream, I still feel ‘at home’.

Carter: Marlene?

Marlene: Yeah?

Carter: Are you going to be okay?

Marlene: I think so. Come on, let’s go inside and see what the hell this is all about.

Marlene Collins 2024/04/29(Mon)11:51 No. 1090011 ID: 2eb1da
File 171441670786.png - (260.15KB , 550x500 , 008.png )

Marlene: Helloo? Anybody home?

Marlene: Mooom? Mads?

Marlene: Eleanor?

No response. I didn’t know what I expected. Such as the outside, the interior has its basic shapes down to recall each room--again some patches look unfinished.

It’s been too long since I’ve revisited home and I’m realizing that I’m forgetting some details. Minor things like the exact length of the hallways as if I was still seven. Or what was in the closets and pantries. Or all the hiding spots I've made with my siblings.

Marlene: Home sweet home, I guess. Feels like I have so much to catch up on.

Carter: It's a nice place. It isn't often that I’m invited to a friend’s house.

Marlene: Heh.

Well it’s a trip down memory lane. What sort of things should I reminisce about?
>my neighbors
>my bedroom
>the kitchen
>basement
>the town
>my family
>___

Remember the most traumatic repressed memory in your life. This is the safest place to unleash it.

Remember everything here is a metaphor. Whatever is here is a metaphor for your house, but not your house. More worryingly, what this place is might be broken, or damaged. Check your bedroom first. It might be some sort of... interface with your sleeping self. Reminiscing on family to check your old hiding spots might also be helpful to understand what's going on.

Why is it your old house, not Carter's?

Check bedroom.

Also, briefly talk to carter about the story youve been reading about on your way

>>1090011

Bedroom, probably, since it's likely to be the most concrete place. That or the kitchen.

Unless it was a hangout spot, I suspect the basement will have some bad vibes.

the bedroom, the most familiar to you, should be the most complete in this memory construct. See if anything stands out, something connected to an important or, perhaps, repressed memory.

>>1090011
The kitchen! Let's see if you can eat in here.

>>1090011
bedroom, maybe check for some old notebooks filled with poems or stories you've written growing up.

The basement!

Marlene Collins 2024/05/16(Thu)13:51 No. 1091062 ID: 2eb1da
File 171589271535.png - (192.42KB , 550x500 , 009.png )

>Why is it your old house, not Carter’s?
>Remember [...] Whatever is here is a metaphor for your house, but not your house [...] What this place is might be broken, or damaged.
Riiight. Nothing is as it seems here. Maybe it’s more than a memory of simpler times. There’s a reason why it was plucked from my mind and showcased. As I ponder my way up the stairs, I give Carter a quizzical look.

Marlene: So, tell me. How come the dream is centered on me? Where’s your house? Where’s your cryptic metaphor?

Carter: If I knew, I’d answer ya.

Marlene: Thought as much...

Carter: Well--it could pop up. It could manifest as... an adult section at a blockbuster or a McDonalds ball pit.

Marlene: I suppose I’ve had my fair share of traumatic moments in a ballpit.

>Bedroom, probably, since it's likely to be the most concrete place.
>Check bedroom [...] briefly talk to Carter about the story you’ve been reading on your way.
The stairs spiral up. I’m doing my best to remember anything shocking in my life. My household was as pleasant as any can be--so no traumatic spankings or belts. I keep the conversation going.

Marlene: I’ve been reading a story lately.

Marlene: It’s about a boy who experiences many parallels of his life. The things he could’ve accomplished and the lives he ruined for himself.

Marlene: And he’s sometimes in the middle with nothing ever happening in his mundane life. Like a limbo. And everyone moves on without him.

Marlene: He tries to deal with it; knowledge from one life can help another life.

Marlene: But sometimes he feels hopeless with too much on his mind.

Carter: Sounds daunting. What do you think of it? Any good?

Marlene: It’s good. There’s something about the main character I can relate to--somehow. Maybe I’ve thought about the choices I’ve made and whether there’s a Marlene better or worse off.

Marlene: Little bits of stuff like that. Perhaps you’ve thought of a better path--and the possible chance that it could be real, all happening simultaneously.

Food for thought.

Marlene Collins 2024/05/16(Thu)13:52 No. 1091063 ID: 2eb1da
File 171589274559.png - (287.65KB , 550x500 , 010.png )

We reach my bedroom--it looks just as it was over a decade ago. We must be in a memory before high school; mom had rearranged it by the time I entered 9th grade.

Marlene: And here it is. My own corner of the house. It feels a lot smaller than I remember.

>Check for some old notebooks filled with poems or stories.
Hey, yeah! There should be some journals I’ve hidden from mom. It’s the first thing I check for.

Marlene Collins 2024/05/16(Thu)13:52 No. 1091064 ID: 2eb1da
File 171589277030.png - (250.79KB , 550x500 , 011.png )

Ah dammit; as if I could really remember every single word I’ve written. I was excited for a moment there. Some details in my bedroom are crystal clear in my mind--like the posters and polaroids on the wall, and other details are blurred or incomprehensible: such things I overlooked.

As for my journal, I do remember some lines that stuck with me to adulthood. Then there are memoirs of embarrassing moments. There are even doodles, particularly of a local monster myth in the woods--aptly named the Hartwoods Monster. And then the middle school crushes.
There are cringy teen stories; one set around medieval fantasy lovers Tryce and Lye as they----actually I forget what their story was all about. That part is blank and muddled for it’s been an abandoned story long, long ago. All that remains are the faces of those characters.

Carter: Read some to me! I never kept a diary in case there was any chance my parents would find it.

Marlene: Alright, I’ll try. But you’re gonna regret it.

“Cindy says I make two faces a year. I told her out of all the faces she could make; it had to be ‘bitch’.”

Carter: Hahaa. Gottem.

Marlene: I never cared about her--but nowadays I wonder where everyone’s gone in their adult lives.

I rummage past some pages.

‘When I fall | When I go down deep | Wanting you here with me | My sweet waterfall.’

Lyrics of made-up songs. Yet they still pop in my head now and then. I flip ahead a few more pages.

‘The mouth is a powerful ingress.’

Marlene: That sounds very wrong in hindsight. I don’t remember the context behind that one.

Carter: Lol.

‘I gave Liam a note during class but he passed it on to Ashton ahead of him. It was meant for Liam, that stupid idiot. I’ll wonder if I should ask him to the Spring dance.’

Carter: Did you ask him out?

Marlene: I never got around to it. I wimped out. But that’s all in the past now.

Marlene Collins 2024/05/16(Thu)13:53 No. 1091065 ID: 2eb1da
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Carter leans on the edge of the bed, scanning the room in its orange glory. The house holds together despite its unfinished patches seeping through the walls.

Carter: So. Have you accepted your traumatic past and moved on yet?

Marlene: Tch, not yet. But do you hear that?

Carter: Hear what, exactly?

Marlene: I think it’s coming from outside.

There’s a ringing of chimes. Distant laughter of children. Spokes and chains. I look out. I can’t quite make the details, but something is out on the street. I peek my head out.

Marlene: Hey! Hey who’s out there?!

The figures don’t respond but talk to each other; I can’t make out their words.

Carter: What’s going on?

Marlene: We need to get back outside, quick!

Marlene Collins 2024/05/16(Thu)14:02 No. 1091066 ID: 2eb1da
File 171589332123.png - (253.60KB , 550x500 , 013.png )

Carter: Wait, Marlene! What did you see? Who were you yelling at?

Marlene: That’s what I aim to find out. We can cut through the living room. Come on!

I usher Carter along with a tug of his wrist. Running around the house gives a vibe of muscle-memory as I imagine myself as a little girl. Even rushing down the stairs with my heels thumping against the creaky wood.

It was then we move upon an unexpected sight: A row of bunk beds stretch down the room. Now I definitely know that wasn’t here before. Everything looks old and dusty. I hear footsteps down the aisle--a combination of small and large hoofs.

But as the house constantly shifts and churns--I don’t know how long these blips will remain here.

>go outside to see the figures on the driveway
>explore further into the hall of bunk beds

The figures may already be gone - out of sight means out of mind in dreams. Explore this bunk bed broadway.

probably not a good time to think about it, but those lyrics you wrote could actually be used in the song you're making with the band somewhere.

If someone else is out there, they could be important. Go out to see what they're on about

>>1091066

Check the figures. Something about them was enough to grab you; that's more important than funky dream-logic.

Also do you remember this room of bunk beds? If not, ask mister Carter cause it might be his memory now.

But yeah, examine the bunk bed room. I think the people and driveway is no longer out there if this isnt your living room anymore.

>>1091066
check the figures, ignore the weirdness of the backrooms and head outside, odds are it could be either a memory from you or Carter's

Those figures weren't memories. They could be people, or some sort of mechanical process activating. Approach with caution. Their eyes may be open.

Maybe the house is starting to shift into Carter's past and memories now?

Check out those mysterious figures!

>>1091066

I think we found Carter's cryptic metaphor.

Marlene Collins 2024/05/30(Thu)17:37 No. 1092144 ID: 2eb1da
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>Do you remember this room of bunk beds?
>[Is] the house starting to shift into Carter’s past and memories now?
I pause for the briefest moment to see if I can recollect anything instant on the mind. It could be Carter’s own memories, but I don’t think I’ll pursue this path anyway. I won't press it yet.

I’ve been in summer camp and a week-long school trip in the Appalachia--

>Check the figures, ignore the weirdness of the backrooms
>If someone else is out there, they could be important.
>They could be people, or some sort of mechanical process activating.
I tug Carter’s wrist to get moving.

Marlene: Come on! There could be people outside! Actual people!

Carter: B-But I don’t...

Carter: ...I can’t sense anyone like I sense you.

Whatever inner feeling I have about the outside, I hold my attention towards it--I don’t want to lose it.

Marlene Collins 2024/05/30(Thu)17:48 No. 1092145 ID: 2eb1da
File 171711648637.png - (319.21KB , 550x500 , 015.png )

We step outside onto the front steps; I can still see the figures huddled up, and running across the sidewalk. In fact, I can hear them more coherently. The sound of three girls push a bike.

???: Come on! You have to push your feet down! Push it down!

???: I am! I am! It’s not working!

???: You have to lift it up too!

???: And faster!

???: I’m gonna fall! Stop! Stop! Stop! Stoooop!

The one riding the bike wobbles and tumbles over. There's a yelp and the other girls catch up.

Watch and see how this plays out.

Poke the memory before it fades.

Do you know these girls? This seems like it could be a formative memory, though maybe not yours.

Hmm, say, has anything changed about the landscape?

>>1092145

Marlene, is that you? As a kid?

Did you have sisters / friends who taught you how to ride a bike?

Either it's a fond memory of skinned knees in your childhood, or it's three out of place entities trying to get some sort of device working. If the former... why?