THAT EVENING

I just finished Peter Beagle's long-awaited novel Summerlong, in which Persephone runs from her abductor-'husband" Hades. She disrupts, as gods and big ideas do, the lives of ordinary mortals. Though I couldn't see why Joanna couldn't forgive Abe; both cheated under extraordinary pressure, prodded by gods; and he clearly loves her. Yet she left. I don't understand such jealousy. But then humans often baffle me. Persephone made more sense. Even Hades in his dour way.

Of course I have an excuse; I'm autistic. What's yours?

Then I read a My Little Pony fanfic by Norm de Plume. Rarity the vain artist addresses a surprisingly humble prayer to Princess Luna, goddess of dreams:

“Grant this foolish pony a small measure of your joy, Luna,” she murmured. “And let me bring that joy to those I want to be with tonight.”

THAT NIGHT

I'm trying to get my car out of my parents' driveway. Traffic cones trap me; the sidewalk becomes a narrow lane. Can I knock down some markers to escape? No. Big stone blocks under them, like chunky heads with orange wizard hats. Slow, trapped... drive west seeking a way out of this narrow stone-bordered lane.

Up a hill. Reach the left shoulder of Highway 1, bordering the Pacific. Just beyond, sea-cliffs plummet. Hit an oval dead end. Too narrow to easily turn my car around. May have to back out. For miles!

Now the lane's narrowed even more, to a mere foot trail, and I'm manhandling my car over humps and crests, worrying it'll hang up entirely. Each time, just able to get it moving--so far. I carry it now as much as it carries me.

Hikers all over--road, meadows, beach, halfway up the cliffs. Even when no one's in sight, I hear them. Nearly all men. Disappointing.

A hundred feet below me, rock coves. Whalespouts out to sea.

Just over this latest crest is a couple hiking by. Only they don't; they laugh at me and block the path. "He's not normal" says the pretty, snotty girl to her guy. "No, he isn't, is he?" he replies, following her lead as (I can already tell) he always does. As I try to pass, he sneers and blocks me with a shoulder.

She does more. She gives me a scornful little shove.

Bad timing, unless she truly meant murder. I'm right at the brink of the cliff, and feel my center of gravity go past the point of no return. She's killed me--AND left me time to realize it. I can't quite reach her, but her boyfriend's arm is close enough. Let's see if I can pull myself back at his expense. No. I'm already too far gone. But I'll take him with me. I want her to die, though, not him so much; and she IS holding tightly onto him, pulling. I think there's a fair chance she'll fall with us.

Below I see deep water, not rocks. There's some chance I'll survive.

Will they? You know, I really don't care.

NOTES NEXT MORNING

Well, I asked Luna to advise me! Her answer: a nightmare where normal people are fatally vicious and stupid. Did this couple even mean murder? Either...

1. Luna's warning that I still see through childhood eyes; I assume total strangers will persecute me just because my schoomates did. But adults are more mature. Right?
2. Luna's warning that I'm naïve about real hazards from neurotypicals who persecute weirdos like me without even understanding the consequences. Trumpism!

I suspect it's the latter--real danger from normals. I've had repeated lessons in the last few years:

1. I was attracted to a woman I'll call Rita but backed away without quite knowing why. Berated myself for getting cold feet. My friend Johnny snapped her up. Later I learned Rita had a massive jealousy problem, couldn't STAND him having any female friends! Not lovers, just friends. Fights... Two-thirds of my close friends are women. Narrow escape, it seems.
2. At the end of Summerlong, Joanna got so bitter she left Abe. Both had briefly strayed (influenced by magic), but... Abe clearly loved her. I was baffled she didn't stay with him and demand changes she wanted. I think intense feelings of jealousy and betrayal are a neurotypical thing autistics like me just can't get; we tend to be naïve.
3. I was equally naïve about my ex-girlfriend Cheryl's highly subjective reality ("What I feel is true; don't distract me with evidence!") Though I partly blame the NVC movement.
4. My sister Miriel had similar problems with Santa Cruz "friends" who weren't. Hounded her outa town as some kind of evil witch... Hmm. They were NVC cultists too.
5. My other sister Althea met a professor with a cult following in her small college. When she didn't join his groupies and kiss his ass, he hounded her out of the college.

I think my whole nerdy family tends to underestimate the power and danger of conformity, jealousy, pecking order, stupidity and spite.

MONTHS LATER

Now, rereading the journal, I notice this theme, "You trust neurotypicals too much!" has been recurring for weeks. Here's a dreamlet a week earlier:

I'm a Post-Magicrash Spirit
Dreamed 2017/8/31 by Wayan

I'm a spirit in the redwood country of Northern California, in the future. There are only scattered post-armageddon villages these days. It wasn't a nuclear war or eco-collapse that brought down civilization--it was a wizard-war! Magicrash? Spellopalypse.

It's made the survivors conservative. Tradition warns folk against consorting with "demons"--labels us spirits tricky & hostile. They blame us for the catastophe. True, it WAS magical, but WE didn't cause it--human mages did! They used us as weapons, against our protests. And then blamed us when it all fell down.

One Hoopa or Yurok girl (a high percentage of survivors were Native American) decides to rebuild. She wanders, tries to reconnect villages, get them to agree to clear the old roads enough to allow wagons, and start trade again. She consults the local spirits... including me. "Will you allow this project, or are you still angry at humanity?"

I say "the Ancients caused great destruction because they recklessly TOLD us what to do and didn't listen. You ASK, and you listen. Your project is cautious and sensible. You won't find us dangerous or hostile."

Of course not. I'm attracted to her. Not just cute, but admirable. It took real courage to risk her own people's anger, and according to the widespread lies about us, she's risking her own life just to contact us at all. It was neither spirits nor humans who cause the crash. That division is artificial. We're all on one side, here. The real divide is between listeners, whether of flesh or spirit...

...and reckless jerks.

So... with recurring dreams like that, I think Luna's warning me that my childhood wariness is not a neurosis to get over, but hard-won experience based in reality that I need to take more seriously. Trump's proven just how nasty normal people can get.

Also: it was Princess Luna I asked for advice--the dream-goddess of a world whose very motto is "Friendship is Magic!" If she says to beware certain types... listen!

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