I'm sorry I haven't written to you lately. The mirages of you came back and have been with me continually, so I almost forgot that you wouldn't know what was going on around me. Even now the mirages are looking over my shoulder and demanding that I cease treating them as separate people from you. I really need to get some rest.
I don't remember when a new nightmare pattern started, but it must have been on, slightly before, or slightly after Christmas. Days blend together if I spend them in the mines, unfortunately. They also blend more than they should when I'm out of touch with reality. I've not learned to handle the new dreams yet and can barely handle the old ones. This may take a lot more practice.
The new dream pattern, which alternates with the usual dream patterns, involves the Gearbox family. It starts out with me as one of Zaida's siblings at the little mill, and I make up my mind to be a good daughter for the blonde lady, but I just keep being my dysfunctional self all day long. Even though she tries to be patient, eventually I wear her down and make her cry. It floods the whole mill, and we all get swept away. I lose sight of everyone else as the saltwater carries me to Steelhead Shanghai. There a wall of mimmoth souls pushes me away to the island of the head-stealing sea monsters. Some of the dreams end there, but others go further to where they eat my brains and get sick and die.
I don't think the idea that the forcefield around Shanghai is made up of vengeful mimmoth souls is entirely farfetched. Perhaps their plan is to squish me against something until I die of flatness, just as I did to many of them.
So that explains why the mirages came back, anyhow. But I'm sure you would rather hear about recent events. I'm in Winterfell now, hiding among the trees and shrubs just as I used to when I was tiny and wanted to avoid punishment. I'm avoiding punishment now, you see. Recently (though I can't say how recently, as the sun never moves here), I went to another dance at Mama Valdy's. I still haven't seen Valdy herself recently. I think I might have made her a wreath out of mimmoth skulls around Christmas, but I left it out near her home for her and I'm almost certain some wild critter took it away before she did. She probably doesn't even know (or notice) whether I've been in Steelhead at all. I don't think there were very many people at that dance party, but it was hard to tell with all the mirages competing for my attention. The mirages of you were, in fact, very talkative. I could barely hear any of the music over their voices. But I did see that a man I didn't know came in and played a fancy form of checkers with Ms. Aaoee-sama over ownership of an aircraft. They both looked very serious, so I made sure not to interrupt them.
The party ended almost as soon as they finished, and everyone left except for the man and the barmaid. Then they talked about how scary Ms. Aaoee-sama was. The man was really, truly afraid she would hurt him. The Jaegerlady told me she's "not as dainty as she seems". She can't be a bad person if she's Valdy's friend, can she? I don't know what to believe or who to trust now. She seemed so nice. She was always so polite and friendly! Why do people around here keep climbing off their pedestals? It's been such a confusing year so far (if it's still 1890, which it may not be anymore).
Then the man turned to me and asked me to come with him to the airship in Shanghai. I don't think "There's an invisible wall that keeps me out of that part of town but doesn't affect anybody else," would have been a good answer. In any case, I cannot imagine what abominable thing I must have done to make a near-stranger want to talk to me in private. I don't want to imagine it. I didn't want to imagine it and I didn't want to find out. If it were only a mild punishment I had earned, he would have gotten it over with right then and there. I do not want to know what someone without the heart-weakening ties of blood to hinder him might be capable of enacting on the wicked. I still had the Landmark Miss Gearbox gave me in my pocket (as it's rather small and I'd forgotten to remove it), so I slipped my hand in while he was waiting for me to come with him and click-clacked it. I just poofed away without a goodbye or an apology. I'm so sorry. In spite of what I say, in spite of my resolutions and my seeming sincerity in keeping them, I just keep running away from people. I should probably study the neurology section of Do-It-Yourself Construct Construction and see if I can get some idea how to remove that part of my brain. It is only a hindrance to my functioning as a responsible moral agent.
I don't know what to do now. I thought I could not bring myself to leave Steelhead, possibly due to my overactive imagination making me feel unrealistically connected to other people, but I just left. This could be important. Maybe I will be able to find a way home from here. It looks like there may be other towns on the other side of the water in some directions, so I might be able to progress a little bit toward you. I'm not sure if I can swim that far, but maybe I can build a raft.
There are mimmoths looking at me. It makes me sad and kind of frightened. I wonder if they know what I've done to their friends. They must know, since I'm wearing a shawl and boots made out of mimmoth fur. They must think I'm very evil. I hope they don't try to hurt me. Do you think the mimmoth-soul-wall will follow me and block off a part of Winterfell?
I don't think Valdy and Ms. Aaoee-sama ever started up a mimmoth farm. Either that or they decided I wasn't trustworthy enough to talk about it to. That's reasonable. I don't trust myself as far as I could throw myself.
I wonder when my birthday is. It must be January either now or soon. It will be difficult to throw a party for myself with all the most important people, as I'm not sure where I can send invitations. For that matter, I don't know how to throw myself a party. I could blow up some mimmoths as refreshments, but beyond that, I'm completely lost. I don't even have anything nice to wear. That beautiful black gown I got from the charity bin is in tatters and has become browner than my hair. I can't keep anything nice, can I? Sometimes I think that if I ever did something right or failed to spoil something, the universe would become confused and implode.
Never mind, the mirages of you just explained it: I am merely overlooking their flaws as a psychological defense mechanism. Fair enough.
To conclude, I am disappointed with myself on many levels, but almost equally disappointed in The Grid. I miss being at home with you and always knowing what was real, who was trustworthy, and what to do. It's been a very stressful year full of uncertainty without your counterbalancing wisdom. The mirages help me feel a little bit better, but in the end, they're nothing more than figments of my imagination infused with memory. They're yelling at me to go to bed now, so I might as well make some effort to sleep again. I don't think it will work, but they're very insistent. So, farewell, wherever you are. I hope you have a wonderful new year.
Love forever,
Your Shaqad
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