Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell ❯ Dreamgates ( Chapter 33 )

The Edulcoration of Duo Maxwell - 33/?

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Warnings: AU, yaoi, coarse language, violence, angst, cliffhangers, red herrings, mention of various vices, random bits of useless knowledge, occasionally explicit sex. Weirdness.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: None for GW, and I'm now quite convinced almost nada for Pretty Woman.

Disclaimer: I don't really need to be Captain Obvious here, do I? No ownership, no money being made, yadda yadda. Written for fun, not profit.

Archived at:
http://www.atsui.org
http://www.gundam-wing-diaries.150m.com/gw /Mookie/gwmookie.htm

Edulcorate (verb) - To free from harshness (as of attitude); to soften

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Chapter 33 - Dreamgates

Heero got up and blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision. He took one last look at Duo before slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom to remove his contact lenses. Instead of returning to bed after he was done, he walked out the room and onto the balcony. He needed some time to think about all that had happened over the past few days.

It was dark out there. The city was oddly dark as well, the only illumination coming from the moon.

He wasn't able to put his finger on what was wrong with that picture until he saw the figure on the ledge. One leg was drawn up to its chest, and the other dangled, the toes just brushing the balcony floor. A long dark braid spilled over one shoulder.

"It's about time you got here, 'Niisan."

Heero took a long, deep breath, then closed his eyes. When he opened them, she was still there.

"Sorry, 'Niisan, but I'm not going anywhere. Not yet."

"Kitty-chan," he breathed, this time afraid if he closed his eyes, she WOULDN'T be there when he opened them.

"Not exactly," she said. "But close enough for government work." She seemed to find that extremely hilarious, and started giggling in a way she hadn't done since she was eight.

"I told you I'd come back to haunt you if you ever pissed me off," she said, and he could just imagine the bit of devilry in her dark eyes. He'd once likened them to a dark walnut wood, like the knick-knack table his mother dusted religiously, but she'd snorted at that. "Full of shit up to here," she'd responded, holding her hand up to her forehead and parallel to the floor. She'd grinned when she said it, knowing how it bothered him when she cursed.

"Your hair," he said. "You never used to wear it like that."

She lifted the braid off her shoulder and examined it. "You're right. What do you know about that?" She dropped it and it fell back in the same exact position it had been in before she'd touched it.

"You're too hard on yourself, 'Niisan," she said. "It's going to be the death of you some day."

He sucked in a breath, and she shrugged. "I'm not going to pull any punches, 'Niisan. That's not why I'm here."

She looked out at the stars and he followed her gaze. "You come out here a lot." She wasn't asking. He nodded, and even though she wasn't looking at him, he knew she was aware that he had.

"Remember what I used to tell you, 'Niisan? 'When we get married'..." she trailed off, but Heero remembered. Four words that had represented far more than they meant in the literal sense. Words that may or may not have actually come true one day.

"Ever suffer a stereotype, 'Niisan?" she asked without turning around.

He thought about it. He really hadn't, not horribly. Other than the exotic slant to his eyes, he didn't look even remotely Japanese. His name gave him away, but all that meant was everyone thought he was good with math and computers, both of which were true. He supposed that the only derogatory stereotype he could have endured would be regarding the size of his dick. Contemplating that only made him think of Duo's question to him earlier in the week as he'd deleted his junk e-mail, and he wasn't about to bring that up to Esperanza.

"I hate that name, I told you that."

"How are you doing that?" He hadn't spoken out loud.

"I'm a ghost, didn't you know?"

"I don't believe in ghosts."

"That's OK. You don't have to. It's enough that I believe in you."

His legs felt weak. She seemed to sense it and turned to look at him.

"Being Hispanic and coming out of Jackson Heights, people tend to assume you're a thief or murderer or a drug dealer. Like they've seen one too many episodes of NYPD Blue and know nothing about what it's really like there." It took Heero a moment to realize she was back to the topic of stereotypes, so caught off guard by her last statement was he.

"It's worse when your father has money. No one believes that there can be any intelligent Latinos out there," she spat. "So therefore his money must be dirty. No one says it to your face, but you know when everyone stops talking the moment you enter a room. For the longest time, I didn't even know why. I thought it was me personally that they didn't like."

She'd tried to explain it to him when she'd first noticed it, but that's when he'd been involved in pursuing his career choice, and hadn't given her concerns the attention she'd come to expect from him.

"You didn't trust my friends, 'Niisan. That hurt. I thought you knew me better than that. By not trusting them, you were saying you no longer trusted me. I felt like you'd decided that they were 'filthy spics,' too, and it hurt a lot more than any amount of disdain directed at me by the kids at Rutger's." Her voice took on a snooty affectation at the last word.

He had known that even on the day he'd left her for the last time, but he hadn't been able to come up with a suitable excuse for his hasty departure. He'd lied to her and said he was attending some sort of special school program, and she'd known he was keeping something from her. She'd taken in the wrong way, of course. On top of that, she hadn't understood why he was so adamant that she not associate with her current group of friends, none of whom he'd yet had the chance to meet and approve of.

"They were good people, 'Niisan. Not your type, of course, but deep down good people."

That hurt. He opened his mouth to speak, but had nothing to say.

"I know you have a tough time with people, 'Niisan. You really don't like to let many folks in. And I wasn't fair to you, either. I didn't mean it. I was just hurt that you didn't trust me. I didn't really think that you felt you were above me. Now, though, now I know why you couldn't tell me what was going on. I guess I didn't trust you as much as I thought, either."

"How do you know..."

"I know what you know, 'Niisan. That's how it works. Think of it as some sort of internal extrasensory perception. A telepathy between the conscious and the subconscious."

"You've gotten rather eloquent since..."

"Since I died? Yup. You can say it. I'm dead as a doornail. If it helps any, 'Niisan..."

He looked at her expectantly.

"It didn't hurt. One shot, right through the head. Died instantly. You've got to stop making it into more than what it was. There was nothing you could have done, even if you were there."

"I could have stopped it," he insisted.

"How? Throwing your body in front of the bullet? Even if you'd been fast enough..." she stopped at the look of determination on his face. "Fine, sure, whatever. Of course YOU would have been fast enough." She rolled her eyes to show what she thought of that idea. "In which case...then you'd be the one playing Jacob Marley right now, and I'd be Ebenezer Scrooge."

"I can't ever picture you as Scrooge," he smiled at her weakly, but she must have noticed, because she beamed at him.

"Bah, humbug," she snickered. "You weren't completely off base with your suspicions, by the way. They were good people, but they didn't have the savvy that you and I have. They weren't personally involved with the whole drug thing, but they were blind to it going on around them. Judged by the company you keep..."

He'd admitted as much to himself before he'd even left Berkeley Heights, but a fat lot of good it had done him. By the time he came back to apologize to her, she was dead.

She swung her legs around and sat on the ledge, both feet on the ground now, the braid dangling in between.

"Don't try to blame yourself for taking that second job, either. The two extra days you were gone wouldn't have made any difference. You can't save the world, 'Niisan. Even if the world includes me. You can only do the best you can to make it a better place, but people have to save themselves." She started tapping her left heel against the ledge she was sitting on. "It was a drug deal gone wrong, and it just happened to take place where I was getting gas for that shitbox of mine. It could have happened anywhere. Instead of a bullet through the brain - don't look at me like that, it's what happened - I could have gotten into a car accident leaving the place, flown through the windshield - yes, I know I should have worn my seatbelt more often - and died bleeding on the pavement, alone and suffering until I took my last breath.

"Nice visual imagery, by the way, those dreams of yours. You should have gone to Hollywood to direct horror movies." She looked around and laughed. "Well, I mean, I guess you ARE in Hollywood, after all, but I would never have expected to find you..."

"I miss you, Kitty," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her say it.

"I know you do." She closed one eye, looking at him out the other speculatively. "You remember Euripides, right?"

His look of scorn told her what he thought of that question, and she stuck her tongue out at him like she did so often when he'd say something that particularly annoyed her.

"'Circumstances rule men and not men rule circumstances,'" she quoted blithely.

"Bakakusai. No man is incapable of shaping things to suit himself if he has the self integrity and determination to do so."

"Hmmm," she replied thoughtfully. "And yet...things are happening that seem beyond your control." She reached a hand out as if she could touch him from this distance, holding it aloft for a moment before letting it drift into her lap. "You don't really want this, do you, 'Niisan?"

By 'this,' he knew she meant the track his life had taken.

"No."

"Good answer. You've been rather...'wicked and vulgar,' wouldn't you say, Hiro?"

He caught the pun immediately and winced.

"It was an accident," he said defensively. At the look of amusement, he added, with a hint of desperation, "and temporary. It was never my intent to do this forever."

"Self integrity and determination," she mused.

"Sometimes you have to work with what is handed to you," he offered by way of explanation. She shook her head.

"So I see you've tossed my affections aside for another." She placed a hand to her forehead dramatically. "Rubbing elbows with all sorts of people, aren't we?"

"Relena is just a friend."

She looked at him with extreme disappointment, like he'd completely missed her point.

"'Niisan, 'niisan, 'niisan," she scolded. "What am I to do with you?"

He looked at her and she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger, then placed it over her nose.

He frowned. Why did that gesture look so familiar?

"It'll come to you eventually," she teased, then sighed deeply. "You really need to purge yourself of this woe-is-me crap, 'Niisan. It's unbecoming. I want to see the sarcastic, smug bastard that learned Spanish just for me. The badass who didn't take any shit from anyone. The friend who gave me piggyback rides when my brothers were too busy, and the one who chose a career just because he thought it would protect me from the big baddies."

"I didn't...that is..."

She was grinning from ear to ear.

"What was that, 'Niisan?"

"I didn't...I wanted..."

"Cat got your tongue? And what a naughty tongue it is, 'Niisan." She laughed at his obvious discomfiture. "So what you're telling me is...Heero Yuy did something for himself? Chose a career he wanted? Put himself first, for once in his life? There's hope for you yet."

"I got to choose my colleges, too," he protested. "And after graduation...I wanted to...make a difference. Not to a nameless, faceless corporation, working in a law firm." Not living in Osaka, thousands of miles from you, Kitty.

"Funny thing about that law firm, huh? Would you be surprised if I said I was the one who arranged for Hitomi-san to be here in Beverly Hills this week?"

He looked skeptical, but startled as well. "Did you?"

She laughed. "No, sorry to say. It would have been cool, to manipulate the fates that way, though."

"I don't believe in fate."

"So it was just coincidence that 'Jiisan's friend and business associate was there, at the right time and the right place."

"I don't believe in coincidences, either." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he'd just contradicted himself.

"That's right. In your line of work, there's no such thing as a coincidence."

She slid off the ledge and stood, arching her back and stretching. "So, 'Niisan. You don't believe in destiny. You don't believe in coincidences. Seems to me you want it both ways."

Duo's words from earlier that day echoed back at him.

"Yesterday," she said.

When he looked at her, her blue eyes were shining brightly. "It was yesterday. Not today. Past midnight, ya know."

He frowned. Something wasn't right with this picture.

"Ever hear about the red threads of destiny?"

"Of course."

She laughed again. "Yeah, that is pretty obvious. If you didn't know about them, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. So you know that-"

"Two people destined to be together are bound by a red thread. Yes, I've heard it."

She shook her head. "Not only that. When a child is born, invisible red threads reach out from the child's spirit and connect to all the important people who will enter that child's life, not just his or her soul mate. As the child grows, the threads shorten, bringing closes those people who are destined to be together."

She held out her hands as if showing off a grand prize in a game show. A series of red threads became visible, all of them streaming out of Heero's chest. One led behind him. Some led out beyond the edges of the balcony, somewhere in the night. Several others seemed to just disappear into the mist. When the hell had the balcony become filled with mist?

She was laughing again. "Told ya, it's Hollywood, 'Niisan. Those threads that seem to vanish into thin air connect you to people whose fates you haven't yet realized tie into yours."

She waved her hand dismissively. "And don't tell me, I know. You don't believe in fate."

"I should have been there."

"Oh, for the love of...not this again. Get over yourself, 'Niisan! I thought we just covered this. You're doing nothing more than wasting the little time we have here. Listen, and listen good, because I don't want to have to come back and smack you around. You were right where you should have been. If you want to look at it another way, maybe someone else was prevented from suffering because you were where you were at the time instead of holding my hand while I crossed the street. You know I'm right, too, but you refuse to accept it, because if you do, you have to admit that there was nothing you could have done. I forgave you, 'Ro, not that you needed me to. Now forgive yourself. And if you MUST be sorry, madre de Dios, at least be sorry for something you have control over."

He sighed. He hated when she was right.

"I thought you didn't speak Spanish," he said, for lack of a more intelligent response.

"I've seen Zorro," she quipped, then relented. "And like I told you, where we are right now, I know what you know."

Her eyes became sad. "'Niisan, was it really that terrible?" She was referring to the night Quatre had found him in the alley. He wasn't going to get off that easily, it seemed.

"I wasn't really going to use it."

"I gotta tell ya, you scared the piss outta Quatre."

"You've never met Quatre."

"No, but you did, and that's all that's needed for this conversation to take place."

His brows wrinkled in confusion, causing her to laugh at him again. "You have this all figured out, 'Niisan. You just refuse to accept it. Hey, where did you ever learn how to say 'brat' in Spanish anyway?"

Even dead, she had a knack for changing the subject without warning.

"You obviously didn't listen to a thing your brothers said to you, did you?"

"I KNEW you hadn't learned that in Japan!" she crowed. "It didn't seem like something you'd have picked up over there. You should be damn pleased with yourself, then. I remembered when YOU said it, even though my brothers probably used it a hundred times or more."

He couldn't help smiling at her. This had to be the most bizarre conversation he'd ever had in his life.

"Know who you are an awful lot like?"

"Who?"

"Wufei Chang."

He didn't bother bringing up the fact that she hadn't met him either.

"How so?"

"Nuh-uh," she shook her head. "I don't have to tell you. You already know."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"I ever tell you how cute you are when you do that? It's like you have nothing better to do with your hands, and it doesn't matter anyway, because your hair, 'Niisan, is perpetually messy."

"Thanks," he said dryly, earning himself yet another laugh.

"What do you think of Chang-sama?"

He scowled at the form of address she used, and she grinned. "Gotcha," she winked. "So answer the question."

"He's got a mean right hook."

She ran a hand through her bangs. "Look, now you've gotten me doing it." Her eyes met his again. "Ya know, that was a perfect opportunity for 'kiss-booboo-make-it-better' and you couldn't even get that right."

He shook his head, and she reached out and smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"Didn't think I could actually touch you, did ya?" she smirked. "I can do whatever I want. Well, whatever YOU want, I guess."

He closed his eyes. His head was starting to hurt.

"Hey, 'Niisan," she said.

She repeated the thumb-and-forefinger gesture and winked again.

"Give you a hint. Remember the night you and Quatre went to Rage?"

Rage was a gay nightclub in West Hollywood that Quatre had convinced him to go to on the assumption that he'd manage to get a feel for the different 'types' of gays there were. Average guys who just happened to like fucking other guys. Homosexuals who treated their sexual orientation as a cultural lifestyle, as if it defined who they were on every level. Ambiguous and ambivalent gays. And those firmly entrenched in the closet, acting like they'd been dragged there against their will, kicking and screaming the entire way.

That night he'd still been reeling from that kiss Quatre gave him. He'd never been kissed by a man before, and he knew that Quatre was trying to get him to loosen up, despite his ostensible purpose for bringing Heero there in the first place. The blond did have a point, though, because if Heero were serious about servicing the male clientele, he needed to be able to read them, to get a preliminary feel for their personalities. Quatre also pointed out that he could always refuse to take money from a john, should he decide that things might get ugly. Little did Quatre know that at that point in time, Heero felt he needed - no, deserved - that ugliness.

That's when he started to feel a bit protective of the other man. Quatre was so openly trying to...Heero supposed 'court' was a good word to use...to court him, that it would have been painful if Heero hadn't admitted to a certain amount of attraction for him in return.

It was the real reason he'd consented to having sex with him. He'd realized that he was attracted to another man, which came as a bit of a shock. And he really had wanted to enjoy his introduction to male-male sex. Having his first time with someone he found sexually attractive, as well as someone he thought he might be able to trust, was suddenly very important to him.

It wasn't until after he and Quatre had sex that Heero had remembered that he had a penance to serve, and he'd shunned any further contact, for the most part. He preferred spending time with Quatre when Trowa was in attendance as well, which was damn near impossible since they lived together.

Quatre had backed off, refraining from any overtures, and had suddenly discovered a new love, one of gambling. If he wasn't working, his poker games kept him away from the apartment when Heero was there, but he still came home every night.

They'd returned to Rage a few times after that, Heero treating it like a sexual seminar, even going so far as to get into discussions with the transvestites on drag revue nights. He didn't mind Rage, because it was an 18-and-over club, and therefore no one had ever asked him to present identification. Quatre might have gotten carded if not for the fact that he was with Heero.

"You see, 'Niisan? Everyone has a skeleton or two. You don't have a monopoly on this bullshit, warped need for atonement. You can spend your whole life punishing yourself, 'Niisan, but it will never bring me back."

He'd expected her words to send a spike of pain through his chest, but all he could do was nod. How could he argue with that?

"Follow your emotions anywhere," she sang, "is it really magic in the air?"

He looked at her. It sounded nothing like her normal speaking voice. In fact, she sounded like an entire band, complete with music. A club mixed version of some vaguely familiar song was coming out of her mouth, as if she'd just swallowed a stereo.

"It's just an illusion..." she continued, delighting in his puzzled expression.

"How are you doing that?" he asked.

"You heard that song at Rage. I don't always fly off on a tangent, you know. This is just your subconscious, bringing it back at an incredibly perfect moment in our little discussion. I can't explain everything that happens here, but seeing as you're the one who brought it up, think about it. Just because it's a clubby kind of song, doesn't mean the lyrics can't have meaning. In this case, you have to ignore the melody and focus on the words. Don't let the music distract you. Searching for a destiny that's mine..." she trilled, laughing again at the perplexed look on his face.

"You should believe in destiny," she said, pointing to the red threads that were suddenly visible again. "I think you were destined to meet Quatre. No," she amended. "YOU think that. If you didn't, I wouldn't have said it."

He wanted to sit down, but settled for leaning against the doorframe instead.

"You do care for him, 'Niisan. The same way you care for that blond chick. But not the way you-"

"Relena," he interjected.

"I know what her name is," she said, frowning at his interruption. "Remember? If you know it, I know it."

He ran a hand through his hair and winced as she laughed at him again.

"Aaaah, 'Niisan," she said. "You look so damn fuckable when you do that." Her voice had dropped several octaves as she said that last part.

His jaw dropped open, but she wasn't looking at him, instead playing with the end of the braid, running the end of it over her lips almost seductively before dropping it. It hit her leg and bounced once before curling about her calf like a serpent. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the ledge, looking cold and angry for a split second before the look of amusement was back.

"For someone who hates to let anyone touch him, and I mean that in the spiritual sense as much as the physical sense, you seem to care for a great number of people. It's not a crime, you know. The song is right. Except...is it really an illusion? For that matter...am I?"

Her body became translucent, and for a heart-lurching moment he feared she would vanish.

"Quatre loves you," she said. When Heero's eyes widened, she chuckled. "Or he thinks he does. Not sure on that yet."

Her hair shimmered, turning a pale gold shade before settling back into its dark, near black, color.

"He can't."

"Why is that so hard to believe, 'Niisan? You're lovable, deep down, you know. Quatre is also a little bit scared of you. He seeks escape in his poker games, in a sense, but also knows that you'll nail his hide to the wall if he gets in too deep. You're damned attractive. You represent all the strength he can't see in himself, not to mention he craves attention."

"But Trowa..."

She nodded eagerly. "Uh huh. I'm glad you noticed, too. Of course, it goes without saying that if you hadn't, I wouldn't either..."

They were both silent for a moment. She picked up the end of the braid and started playing with it again.

"Did you know that for years, I didn't know you had a last name?" She twirled the length of hair and looked at him. "I mean, I knew you did, it just...it never felt like I was missing anything. You were always just my 'Niisan. Know how I found out what it was?"

He shook his head.

"That day we got a package delivered to us because no one was home at your place."

He remembered that day. Kitty had run over with the package, taunting him with it, because it had been addressed to him. Had pretended she wasn't going to surrender the precious package. She'd been quite disappointed to find the parcel contained nothing more than a book his grandfather had sent him from Japan.

It had never occurred to him that, while he'd known all four of her names from the beginning, she'd only known him by one.

"Time is running short," she sighed. "I don't have time for this reminiscing crap, which means you don't, either."

When he looked ready to protest, she shook her head. "You can always practice the whole SILD thing later, complete with reality tests. There's something else you heard but forgot. The subconscious is a lot of fun to play with, you know. You might not even remember all this."

"No..."

She grinned at him. "You want to see me again, work on that technique, 'Ro. Now let's get down to brass tacks. I've only got a little time left. I'll even give you one of those reality tests right now."

She walked over to him and placed her barely visible hands on his shoulder, those deep blue eyes the only seemingly solid part of her body. She moved closer and cupped his cheek with one hand.

"I've always wanted to do this," she said, and kissed him.

His eyes slid closed, and he accepted the kiss. He hadn't expected to actually feel the contact, but she was warm and alive against him. The kiss wasn't very deep, in that it didn't involve the use of any tongue, but it was full of emotion. He moved his lips against hers and wrapped his arms around her.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes an ambiguous shade of blue-hazel.

"Wow," she said. He dropped his arms, and she stepped back.

"This means we are married now, 'Niisan. You know what that means, right?"

He shook his head.

"You will." She held up a hand and he saw the red thread that connected the two of them, from heart to heart. She strummed it gently. "You are so very easy to love, 'Niisan."

"Watashi," he sighed, then felt a grin tug at the corners of his lips. "ORE no ichiru."

She laughed delightedly. "That's more your style," she said. "Watashi, geeeez. Don't pretend you are the dashing young gentleman with me, I know you too well for that." She stopped toying with the threads.

"I may be dead, 'Ro, but I live on as long as I have people to remember me." She touched a finger to his cheek. "I have to get going, but I'll be watching. You never know when I might stop by for an unexpected visit, so get your shit together."

"I will...just give me a few more days, but I will..."

"I know you will. I trust you, remember?"

"Kitty..."

Suddenly the braid vanished, and her bangs fell over her forehead dramatically.

"Snap out of it, Yuy," she barked. "You've basked in self indulgence long enough! We don't have time for this shit! So get your head out of your ass and do what needs to be done!" Her commanding tone of voice made him unconsciously straighten his posture and reach for his hip.

She laughed at him, and this time she looked exactly as she had the day they'd parted on such bad terms.

"One last word of advice, before I fly off into the wild blue yonder," she said. She walked past him, and paused at the doorway leading to the suite.

"La traición no puede existir a menos que viva la confianza allí primero. Keep that in mind. It might help you understand some things later on."

She took two more steps into the suite, and disappeared.

~~~~~

Duo felt Heero's body stirring next to him, and he cracked his eyes open. It was dark in the bedroom, but he didn't think much time had passed since he and Heero had fallen asleep.

Heero was still pressed against him, and he mumbled something.

It sounded like he was counting cats in his sleep. Most people used sheep, but whatever.

He closed his eyes and pulled Heero more firmly into his embrace, then dozed off again.

tbc

~~~~~

For some reason, I can just see Bugs Bunny, head and shoulders out of his rabbit hole, chewing the end of his carrot and looking at the viewer, saying, "Odd, ain't it?" while some secondary character runs around with a sign displaying a picture of a bolt and a baseball.

OK, these notes are extensive and somewhat irreverent. You've been warned.

Dreamgates is the title of a book authored by Robert Moss. To give you an idea of the book's contents, the cover touts "An Explorer's Guide to the World of Soul, Imagination, and Life Beyond Death." Excerpt from the back cover: "Dreamgates teaches unique ways to use dreams as the portals to the worlds beyond physical reality...You can encounter departed loved ones and wise otherworldly beings..."

SILD - Sexual Induced Lucid Dream. Reality tests are ways to determine whether or not you are actually dreaming, like looking at a clock, then away, then looking at it again to see if it has changed. They are to be done when you think about sex or your lover while dreaming. There are supplements and drugs that can be taken to help initiate or enhance the various types of lucid dreaming, the concept of which I may or may not have played fast and loose with. It depends on what you think really happened in this chapter as well as how literally you choose to interpret SILD. (Calls forth the mists to shroud self in a très cliché cloak of mystery, complete with cheesy B-movie soundtrack.)

Random excerpt from a blurb on SILD, that is taken WAY out of context: "...Chocolate contains phenylalanine in large quantities, that are converted into tyrosine that is again metabolized into the love hormone dopamine. So chocolate may also give more dreams with sexual content..."

A few bits of demographic info for ya, based on the 2000 census. Jackson Heights has a median income of $35,310 and a "racial balance" of 63% white, 42% Hispanic, 17% Asian and 4% Black (yes, they total over 100% because some families are counted in more than one group). In comparison, Berkeley Heights has a median income of $107,716 and a racial balance of 90% white, 4% Hispanic, 8% Asian, and 1% Black. Of course there are other races that I've neglected to include, but I did say I was only providing a "few bits" of information on demographics here.

Euripides - Greek playwright, born circa 480 B.C. He wrote The Bacchae, which tells the story of Pentheus, King of Thebes, who is determined to put an end to the worship of Dionysus (Bacchus in Roman mythology). There were a few stories about Dionysus moving into a city, being resisted, and then wreaking havoc in retribution, but Euripides' The Bacchae is one of the most well known. It's said that Dionysus is at his most destructive, and the worship of him the most dangerous, in this play.

And what is Dionysus the god of? Aaaah. Dionysus is the god of fertility and wine, but also the patron god of the arts. He has a dual nature. On one hand, he brings ecstasy and and joy. On the other, brutal, unthinking rage.

The adjective bacchanalian comes from Bacchus, and means "of, relating to, or suggesting the ancient Roman religious rites marked by orgiastic revelry and drunkenness that were held in honor of Bacchus, the god of wine" (my thanks to Merriam Webster once again).

Oh, hell. Might as well go for broke and include the definition of orgiastic, too. It means either "tending to produce wild emotion <orgiastic music>" or "of or having the character or quality of an orgy."

Don't you feel smarter already? I know I do!

Bakakusai - absurd, ridiculous

In Colombia, making a circle with the thumb and index finger (like the gesture for "OK") and placing it over one's nose means "homosexual." Keep that in mind next time you're in Bogota.

'Jiisan (or ojiisan) - grandfather

Ore no ichiru - my ray (or sliver) of hope. Watashi is a more polite form of "me" or "I" than ore, which is only used by men and may or may not be considered impolite, depending on the audience.

Don't own Rage, situated on Santa Monica Boulevard, or the song Just an Illusion by Imagination. Let's face it, I am barely in possession of my sanity.