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Lovely twisty dreams
Dec. 14th, 2006 02:15 pmHad a few hours of the kind of sleep where you're vaguely aware you're lying there snoring and the builders have some very loud music on but on the whole you're sleeping. Had some excellent dreaming that way.
Featuring Team Torchwood, only minus Ianto :-( And Captain Jack was played by Peter Wingfield *happy dreamy look* Who, according to this dream, has the best arse in all available 4 dimensions.
Fun dream.
Dream-me was living in this huge old Torchwood House, with a bazillion wings and rooms and a great hall with a bridge over it it were that big. But most of the rooms were sealed off, black paint over the doors. Because they were gradually filling up with ghosts. This house didn't have the same relation to Time as the regular world. Nothing that happened there ever truly left. People died, but that didn't mean they stopped. All their earlier parts were still hanging around, somewhere.
So Team Torchwood were in a TARDIS, one they owned. Not a big blue box. And they needed somewhere to land, and it wasn't locking on to anywhere. But they managed to communicate with Torchwood House, which meant with me. They could talk and I could hear and talk back, no tech required. So knowing they needed help, I went to the central research room and cleared off the Pentagram. It was a complicated triple ringed thing with different numbers of points in each circle, so it needs a better name than that. But it had symbols on each corner that were specific to our TARDIS and therefore needed removing before a different one could use it.
But once that was done, their TARDIS materialised, and Team Torchwood poured out. Owen, Gwen, Tosh, all looking like usual, but also a big fat old man, a blonde who I think might have wandered in from late season B7, and Captain Jack as played by PW.
They step out, and their TARDIS fades out. Which is obviously a Problem. But I stretch out my arms, reach towards our resident TARDIS, and call up a stream of Time to beacon theirs in again. It arrives, this time solidly, though it castles with our TARDIS in the process and ends up in the opposite corner.
When their door opens, Captain Jack is lying on the floor next to the console, looking very much like John Barrowman.
It's kind of like the exact opposite of a locked room mystery. Because in that moment of fade out, it could have gone anywhere and anywhen. And there's someone alive anomolously instead of dead. Nifty!
Their TARDIS had a working chameleon circuit, which they'd switched to a form appropriate to their usual local setting.
A wheelie bin.
A single house green one, with a street name and house number chalked on the side.
There had actually been much debate about using that form, because whilst ubiquitous, it is also intended to be picked up. But, the deciding voices said, they put it right back down again. So that works out.
... Team Torchwood + wheelie bin TARDIS = win!
Our Torchwood House TARDIS had a peculiar appearance. Black laquered wood, looking a bit like a cupboard and a bit like a shrine, but mostly looking inside out.
On account of, in many ways, it was. It had gone all origami on landing, and now Torchwood House and some of the grounds had got wrapped up in a broken set of dimensions, fractured by a battle damaged TARDIS.
Which leads to some awesome possibilities.
But in practical terms, it was rather a problem to live with. ( Read more... )
To keep ghosts in or out of rooms yet allow the living access you needed a line of salt. This worked on Time ghosts because salt is, actually, very old. Sea salt or rock salt, doesn't matter, it's just been salt for a very very long time. Yet now it is in all these little fractured pieces. So it's like making a curtain of tiny tiny widths of unbreakably old Time, which to a ghost as can perceive it would be like trying to push through razor wire.
... The logic of this is problematic, since actually everything in the universe is universe age. Is a similar problem with that hide in a church rule. If the relevant 'age' was how long a thing had been in that place, they shouldn't have been able to see the Doctor to eat, because of him moving a lot. Yet they could. So age is relative to how long a thing has been in that form, that person, that identity. Which is an odd sort of a rule for a pure-physics universe. But makes the time ghosts possible, because instead of being old molecules, they're a discreet identity with a start and end point.
Salt started being salt ages and ages ago. Therefore salt is Old.
... Which I just thought was nifty.
None of this, however, is getting me closer to having done 600 words to hand in tomorrow.
I'm not fussed about that, really, it's only tiny weighting, but I have to do something. So. /ramble
Featuring Team Torchwood, only minus Ianto :-( And Captain Jack was played by Peter Wingfield *happy dreamy look* Who, according to this dream, has the best arse in all available 4 dimensions.
Fun dream.
Dream-me was living in this huge old Torchwood House, with a bazillion wings and rooms and a great hall with a bridge over it it were that big. But most of the rooms were sealed off, black paint over the doors. Because they were gradually filling up with ghosts. This house didn't have the same relation to Time as the regular world. Nothing that happened there ever truly left. People died, but that didn't mean they stopped. All their earlier parts were still hanging around, somewhere.
So Team Torchwood were in a TARDIS, one they owned. Not a big blue box. And they needed somewhere to land, and it wasn't locking on to anywhere. But they managed to communicate with Torchwood House, which meant with me. They could talk and I could hear and talk back, no tech required. So knowing they needed help, I went to the central research room and cleared off the Pentagram. It was a complicated triple ringed thing with different numbers of points in each circle, so it needs a better name than that. But it had symbols on each corner that were specific to our TARDIS and therefore needed removing before a different one could use it.
But once that was done, their TARDIS materialised, and Team Torchwood poured out. Owen, Gwen, Tosh, all looking like usual, but also a big fat old man, a blonde who I think might have wandered in from late season B7, and Captain Jack as played by PW.
They step out, and their TARDIS fades out. Which is obviously a Problem. But I stretch out my arms, reach towards our resident TARDIS, and call up a stream of Time to beacon theirs in again. It arrives, this time solidly, though it castles with our TARDIS in the process and ends up in the opposite corner.
When their door opens, Captain Jack is lying on the floor next to the console, looking very much like John Barrowman.
It's kind of like the exact opposite of a locked room mystery. Because in that moment of fade out, it could have gone anywhere and anywhen. And there's someone alive anomolously instead of dead. Nifty!
Their TARDIS had a working chameleon circuit, which they'd switched to a form appropriate to their usual local setting.
A wheelie bin.
A single house green one, with a street name and house number chalked on the side.
There had actually been much debate about using that form, because whilst ubiquitous, it is also intended to be picked up. But, the deciding voices said, they put it right back down again. So that works out.
... Team Torchwood + wheelie bin TARDIS = win!
Our Torchwood House TARDIS had a peculiar appearance. Black laquered wood, looking a bit like a cupboard and a bit like a shrine, but mostly looking inside out.
On account of, in many ways, it was. It had gone all origami on landing, and now Torchwood House and some of the grounds had got wrapped up in a broken set of dimensions, fractured by a battle damaged TARDIS.
Which leads to some awesome possibilities.
But in practical terms, it was rather a problem to live with. ( Read more... )
To keep ghosts in or out of rooms yet allow the living access you needed a line of salt. This worked on Time ghosts because salt is, actually, very old. Sea salt or rock salt, doesn't matter, it's just been salt for a very very long time. Yet now it is in all these little fractured pieces. So it's like making a curtain of tiny tiny widths of unbreakably old Time, which to a ghost as can perceive it would be like trying to push through razor wire.
... The logic of this is problematic, since actually everything in the universe is universe age. Is a similar problem with that hide in a church rule. If the relevant 'age' was how long a thing had been in that place, they shouldn't have been able to see the Doctor to eat, because of him moving a lot. Yet they could. So age is relative to how long a thing has been in that form, that person, that identity. Which is an odd sort of a rule for a pure-physics universe. But makes the time ghosts possible, because instead of being old molecules, they're a discreet identity with a start and end point.
Salt started being salt ages and ages ago. Therefore salt is Old.
... Which I just thought was nifty.
None of this, however, is getting me closer to having done 600 words to hand in tomorrow.
I'm not fussed about that, really, it's only tiny weighting, but I have to do something. So. /ramble
