A Repaired Vial – Blood in the Repair Shop

Update to Dream Journal 29-06-16

last night I thought I had no dream left in my memory, yet, when I wish to get on with the next item on my agenda I am hit with a pretty vivid scene from the dream that I know I had.

I went into the middle of Diagon Alley where a new store had just opened up. I’d been waiting for it for yonks and finally,it was here. “MtG: The Repairs” was one of my favourite store. You could take all of your old Magic: The Gathering (MtG) cards to them and they would rebuf them and restore them to mint condition. How they did so, I have no idea. I had three cards I wanted to repair after my most recent purchase, so off I hurried down the winding streets to what would inevitably be my favourite new store.

I burst open the door knowing that everyone inside would be far more geeky and introverted than I was. It was a joy to enter a place where I could feel at home even if I would be kicked out of there for loitering at some point. The store was a real beauty. Every single card to ever have been released was featured on the walls, perfectly sleeved and in mint condition too. They were all arranged in order of release starting by the door, travelling in collumns from left to right. This store owner knew what his customers wanted. Just looking at the systemised symmerty the surrounded me I felt satisfied. Everything was in its place, everything had been meticulously arranged and it was utterly beautiful.

I strode over to that store clerk feeling like the world was in my grasp, handed him those three cards I wanted buffed and shot him a smile. “Creep.” he shot back. “Sorry, but we don’t rebuff these cards. They aren’t worth it. Look at the set, I don’t like the new releases and so they aren’t worth it.” Flabbergasted I stumbled backwards. I had no words. This place was meant to be perfect, how could it have a guy like him in charge of it?!

Disgruntled and annoyed I decided to peruse the comics and games they had on sale. They were stacked in the middle of the room and, like the cards, meticulously placed so as to inspire peace in the mind of the obsessive and compulsive. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a familiar figure. She had her nose in a ‘New Who’ choose-your-own-adventure type book. I was not expcting to see her in a geek store like this. My mood had returned to joyous as I cried out: “Sirrah!” Arms out wide I expected to be greeted in an equally pleasant manner. Instead, she glared up at me like I was a devil she had sworn to kill. Whipping out a black card with a tornado on the front, she dropped the book and in one swift motion, span round at a thirty degree angle. Her turquiose dress flowing in the wind.

She was fast. Faster than I had anticipated. I let my guard down around her and she had just sliced open my abdomen with a piece of stiffened paper. Watching as my intestines lumped out of me into a pool of blood and guts I fell to my knees. I felt no pain. I felt no remorse or anger towards Sirrah. I felt at peace.



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