Had a dream about Gawr Gura last night; which is odd, because she isn't even my oshi.
It's not too peculiar. I dreams I was walking through a nearby residential neighborhood carrying plastic bags. I must have been coming back from a convenience store or something. Walking along the street, homes on my left and right, I heard the familiar cry, "Ohhh my GAAAHHD," followed by the signature screech we know well. The sound came from the house to my right.
The home was pretty run of the mill cul-de-sac American with a shotgun style typical of Florida homes. Other than the front porch and door, the perimeter was lined with wooden privacy fence. Unable to help myself, I decided to investigate. I crept up to the front porch and peeked in the window, between the curtains ajar, and saw a man sitting on a couch watching TV. He looked kind of like Adam Sandler, but I was uncertain. I then heard another screech coming from the left side of the house, echoing off the wall of the home next door.
Fortunate for me, the gate to the fence was left without a lock, and it was simple to lift the latch and quietly open the gate. Past the gate I could see the pulsing glare of monitor light against the fence further towards the back of the home. I tip-toed to the window and peaked inside. Within I saw no shark of course, but instead a roommate engaged in play, monitors busy with activity, mic arm extended, and she was so engaged. With her words and verbal expressions, she would physically act out as if she were speaking to someone physically there. This is something you sometimes see someone doing on the phone.
At some point, I forgot what I was even doing, entranced by my voyeurism. Gradually my grip of my bags loosened, and they dropped, emitting the sound those cheap plastic bags do when moved even slightly along with the dull clang of full, unopened monster energy cans purchased at 3 for $5. I froze, but she stopped. All her activity, waving and gesturing, froze in time as her chair began to turn around. I dropped to the ground and began collecting my things to begin my exit out the back.
The back gate however did have a lock and the moment I noticed it, I heard a click behind me accompanied by a strange voice, "What are you doing back here?"
I tried to turn around, but was my movement was cut off, "don't move, just answer."
"I-I- uhh," stammering and seeking a reasonable reply, "I was taking a shortcut. I live over on Queen Street."
"Shortcut," the unfamiliar voice sought detail.
"I've been cutting through this yard for months now. The house had been vacant for a long time," was my quick response; and it was true, the house had been vacant a long time. Though, I never cut through the yard even once before.
I heard another metallic click, "Alright. Well, it's not vacant anymore."
I turned around and met eyes with a brunette woman, thin, but tone, wearing a loose plain t-shirt and leggings. Her fingernails were dressed with chipped black nail polish and her feet, bare and wet from the grass, were sprinkled with mow clippings. I stood transfixed, "A-are you-"
She cut me off, "Don't worry about it. Get out of here."
I started toward the back gate, but turned back, "It's locked," but really I was taking every available second I could to study her. The voice wasn't what I knew, but I know I saw and heard her.
"Go the other way, dummy," she directed me with her pistol pointed toward the front gate.
I looked ahead and saw the same flashing glare against the wooden fence, "Sorry to interrupt," and I slowly made my way.
I heard her move through the grass behind me, likely ensuring my exit by following behind. At the gate I made one last glance behind me, meeting her, and she returned a knowing look, "Go on and scram, dungus," and in that moment a twinge of the shark came through in her voice. The downward pitch at the end caught some of it. Then the gate was close in my face, "keep poking around and I'll call the cops!"
