Dreams. How much do they mean to us? Determining behaviour, setting the mood for the new day. Of course, it's all subjective. I've often heard of poor people who don't dream at all. And what's to say, I myself have had periods of complete "calm".
But I digress. What's this all about? Well, because everything that will happen next seemed to be a dream, but turned out to be the real reality.
***
I opened my eyes and jumped out of bed. It wasn't the first time I'd been awakened abruptly, but not in my room with blurred vision?
I repent, and it happened, although I don't feel the familiar light nausea that accompanies a hangover. And the rest of the symptoms are still there - no order! And seriously, why am I blind as a mole?!
There was a time in my life when my mum took me to an ophthalmologist to have my eyes checked, and he gave me some "miracle" drops that turned the whole world into a blur. It's a fuckin' great feeling, I recommend it!
And here come the memories, after a quick wake-up and a look round the room, and they started to seep in. What? Dreams, what a load of bollocks. And then there was an old man who looked uncannily like comic book legend Stan fucking Lee! He was a hell of a bloke.
Well, as a dreamer, obviously, I don't know what he was like as a person. But for Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man, he got a lot of credit. And Steve Ditko, of course, the same kudos.
Ehhh, that character meant so much to me as a kid.
I remember the legendary '94 cartoon. A masterpiece. A masterpiece. They don't show that anymore. Cheap toys common in my homeland, but so close to my heart, especially when you're a cunt. Then the first two films from Sam Raimi. Never got round to the third one. Maybe because it no longer felt like the "madness" of the noughties that reigned in the comic book films? The Dark Knight was a thing, too.
And then they started to stamp everything out as if they were trying to fulfil a plan. And of course, what used to be quite narrowly focused became a mass phenomenon. With all the pros and cons that come from such an event.
I confess, I have always treated such, frankly speaking, "pseudo-fans" with contempt. So what. Of course, the whole superhero theme, a fierce roast. It's a hoot.
Why bother?
But, you know, when you're a little kid, your parents fight in the kitchen every night and all you've got is a Spidey poster. You realise that this guy in a ridiculous colourful suit, invented by some unknown guys from America in the 60s, is some pure entity who can set the RIGHT example in our complex and often messy wrong world.
Whoa. Something's got me in the wrong place. Somehow the stream of consciousness caught up with me abruptly. I'm shocked. Okay, what am I talking about?
Why the fuck did I wake up in the middle of nowhere and start thinking about my fucking childhood?!
Started rummaging round the nearest objects and came across a pair of glasses by the bedside table. Interesting.
Putting on the eyepieces, I took a clearer look at my surroundings. The usual room: a bed, on which I slept, at the very edge of the wall, and a door along it. Between the piece of furniture and the exit was a box or a basket, whatever. There is a table to the right of the door. On it, as it should be a computer, a system, keyboard, mouse, headphones and other things. But it's ancient, I had a similar set, but in 2006, give or take. All right, to the right of the desk is a cupboard. To be fair, it's quite large and solid. There are some scientific posters and some plates on it, we'll sort it out later. At the end of all this goodness is a window.
Turning my head to the right, I saw something else like a cupboard, but built into the wall and part of it. I don't know what the fuck to call it. But this structure also had a mirror. Great.
I jumped up, but quickly pulled myself together, because it was nighttime and I didn't want to wake up the unknown inhabitants of this house, and went to the mirror.
What I saw shocked me.
In the reflection I was looking at a brown-eyed brown-haired man, rather thin, with dishevelled hair and a surprised expression on his face. His glasses were still on his face. I raised my right hand and the reflection repeated itself. I stuck out my tongue, same result.
IS THAT ME?!
Where is the familiar portrait of a blue-eyed blond in the mirror? And why do the features of the guy in front of me seem so familiar?
Okay, I'll dream about it. I've had very, very vivid dreams before.
It's not the first time. Anyway, I come back to a warm and cosy bed, and there is a new day, study, work. It's all familiar and familiar. But it was fun, really. It was with such thoughts that I plumped down on the bed, wrapped myself in a blanket and padded the pillow and decided to fall asleep. (In my sleep, yeah!)
As it turned out, in vain.
After an indeterminate amount of time, my head began to explode. Here I am, that blue-eyed blond, celebrating my fifth birthday at the amusement park. And here I am Peter Parker, unpacking a chemistry set given by Uncle Ben. A first grader going to Grammar School and a student running away from Flash Thompson and his cronies. A university student and a hopeful rising genius. Dead and alive.
Opening my eyes abruptly, I just stared at the ceiling, tears streaming from my eyes a few seconds later.
Two lives. Both equally important and equally short. Denis Ivanov and Peter Parker, both dead and both reborn in a man right now choking back bitter sobs.
So many things! My life and my family! My mum, my grandmother, my grandfather. WHY?! I was only twenty-one years old!
I lay there and clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my skin, clenching my teeth and biting my cheeks to keep from screaming.
And then there's Peter! So he's dead and I took his place? That bloke was ten times better than me! Yeah, he had his faults, but he was a good man. And so was Dan... they're not me anymore, are they? Or am I not them?
Jesus Christ, I had a headache. I got upright and grabbed my head. There was a sardonic chuckle.
- It's an idiot's dream come true, isn't it? Became Spider-Man.
No, still Peter Parker. Well, as a sailor used to say, "It's too late to run when the sharks have finished their legs." Tears can't help it. We'll get through this.
Now I'd like to go and wash my face to recover a little, but I don't want to wake up my aunt and uncle.
Yes. Uncle and Auntie.
Stop reflecting!
I'm slapping myself. Pull yourself together, you wimp and think. You've been watching, playing and reading everything about the arthropod web-slinger for nothing! You're the master of this field, so think!
Wow, that helps a little. Right, now it's really time to start moving the gears.
I am, in some strange way, in the body of a character I love dearly.
Yeah, not a standard move for tonnes of fanfics from my world....
All right, no jokes, no jokes.
I found myself in Pete's body... my body. I'm him now, so I need to get used to it and deal with the difficulties of self-identification.
I woke up, judging by my shitty vision, before the spider bite. Yes, there were periods in the comics where Parker's powers disappeared, for various reasons. Except that that doesn't include a fully alive and kicking Uncle Ben. You can also dismiss the option with the events of all the films. At least because of the complete dissimilarity of the appearance of the heroes of the film and my face. At most ending with flashbacks.
For example, Mary Jane Watson is really the niece of my neighbour Anna Watson. And MJ and I played a lot as kids, but she moved away with her parents when she was six and here I am 16 and haven't heard from her. There's a discrepancy with a lot of other sources of information about Spidey's life.
Gwen Stacey's situation is similar. Nothing about her at all, which could mean that the meeting will take place at university, like in the comics. Or maybe she just hasn't transferred yet because of her father's change of service and assignment to New York. Also, maybe she's not even in this reality?
I'm not fooling myself into thinking I'm in THE Peter Parker, it's a slim chance. I may well be in one of the countless variants woven by the Great Web of Destiny.
Or if there is one in this world. It doesn't matter, there are too many variables, let's see how it goes, and we'll start drawing conclusions from the events. With these thoughts I leaned back on the pillow and closed my eyes.
This time there was nothing. Just a stream of thoughts that never left our hero.
***
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