Some thoughts and a dream.

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As I was reaching sleep's terminal velocity, reviewing Hannibal, some things struck me.  If you make it to near the top of your field, whatever that field is, one of two things has to be true.  You are, or have become, a socio/psych-path or your are useful to one in a general manner.  If you are preferred by a top-dog, most likely you are two other things.  First, you are generally useful.  Insightful, inventive, entertaining, though the larger the number the descriptives, the greater the chance at success.  Now, depending on the field, the draw from the general public, will usually indicate the depth of the depravity.  How far will, say, a rock-star or politician go, versus say the head of an one-off academic professor or even college dean?  Some of it is due to mechanical wealth, access, and such.  Some of it is based on other allowances or aspects, such as access to power.  And, men being men, that won't always make perfect sense.

There are various depths of that, even among those men.  Some men are naturals, some men have to be broken into it.  Some men are willing to outright murder, others wouldn't do that, at least not themselves.  Some, even, wouldn't allow death, though would be quite willing to do almost anything short of that.  Men?  Yes.  Women are only being allowed in because, no matter their -pathy, they aren't of that sort.  Puppets.  They fall in line very swiftly.  If you see a high-flying woman, look for the strings.  That can be true of men, I haven't seen it not true of women, not yet or personally, if I haven't always found who holds the string(s).  It's just the way it is.  Can't beat em'?  Own em'.  Though I think their inclusion was a part of their plan all along.  Not a good thing, mind you.  A necessary one, even for them, for very specific reasons.

Beside the common ones, once in a while there is another sort.  Call him a tyrant.  He not only has the bones to be among the most daring among them, he has the skills and other assets that allows him to know the others... their natures, their skills, their failings... seeing along their whole line.  Further, he can access their skills, folding them into his lines or simply destroying them if they don't fit his system preferences.  Rare indeed, but out there.  Older, often, but not always.  A dragon does not, ever, become a dragon just by aging.  He becomes a dragon by starting as a worm, and eating other worms.  The greatest of these have not just done that, but have eaten even other dragons, and then great and then ancient, dragons.

I had to ask myself which I was.  I had made it into the ranks.  Eyes from above and below were on me.  My pace was rather wicked and quick, until I fell.  I wondered, from where I had accessed, and all that had transpired, if they would... pounce.  From above or below mattered little.  That didn't happen.  I was given a warning, or several, and ignored.  The end just never came and the time passed for it.  My threat was neutralized, hidden in a type of dirt, buried without the body.

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The dream.  No, this isn't anyone I know.  The tracks, to my knowledge, do not fit.  So, if it is too close for comfort, that is purely incidental to the dream.  And it is just a dream.

A man and his son visited.  They came in, as kin.  I had been tinkering on tech, then napped a bit and had a dream within a dream about a sex crazed female FBI agent flirting me into a man-storm.  In the dream within a dream I figured out how to fix the tech (for in real life, in the first level of the dream), and figured my way out of consorting with the woman... barely.  Don't trust women who come on too strong, I don't anyway... even in dreams.  I was implementing what I had dreamed, as a tech solution, when the visitors arrived.

They had a breakfast spread with them.  Potatoes, eggs and maybe bacon in that, wrapped in aluminum foil.  They had brought, as well, some sort of orange juice.  They sort of invaded my home, though in a manner that I am quite amenable regarding.  Any man can be a brother, should he choose, and dare, to be.  Not just a dream thing.  More "sophisticated" or less matters not a bit.  Only as much dare as it takes.  I am a dragon, that is true as well, if not of my natural sort.  A dragon with a King... a brother I myself dared to entertain.

The man and his son were bright of personality and potent of nature.  They had come to believe that I was, potentially, of a nature worth risking a connection.  There had been some questions, and doubts.  And some of those remained.  But enough time and testing had satisfied some of their doubts, enough of them to engage in fellowship.  The father had tamed, much.  I had thought him married only once, but it seems he had twice been wed.  None... well okay one man, but he doesn't have many sons or that I know of... has been married twice hereabouts.  Yes, I admit I could be ignorant, just...  Well, and there are other things about the story that don't seem of locals... probably.

While the meal was being set out, I remembered something I could add to it.  Nothing fancy, just a bit to encourage the endeavor.  No attempt to overshadow, just joining the process in a token but real way.  As I was getting that, the conversation began.  The father started talking about women, wives, finding them and such.  Oh, well, I had plenty to add.  Being on that track, as I am, for my part.  He had smoothed out, from the sounds of things, from his first, and certainly second wife, and from the passage of time perhaps.  A wild one, he had been.  I could tell, but from the addition of what his son had to say, it became quite clear.  I can't be certain why the visit, though the conversation lead me to believe there was some discovery occurring.  For whom, or why, was yet to be settled, though I don't think it ever was perfectly settled.  I don't need, or even always have a want, to always know all reasons.  Though, as I indicated, whether I know or not, I am... suspicious, just not antagonistically... merely curiously... usually.  Depends on the intensity of the reason for suspicion.

The father, but definitely and more strongly the son, had some suspicion that my tales belied a nature that might be contrary to relations with women, right relations.  Suspicion is no less in my nature than the natures of other men and more so in women, if less of a devotion among women... or different reasons for depth as womenfolk are?  Some things I will never know as I live and breath.  But I do suspect.  My fancy words, excessive seeming thinking, writing, and... 'parfummed' baths... among other things... left a few doubts.  All good.  In these, as all times, best to check.  But checking with a punch in the nose is less sure.  Some queerfolk can punch back quite dandily.  No, a bit of checking from afar, then a bit more close work was needed.  Even then, one can't be sure, only surer.  But that is as good as it gets here.

We had a grand visit.  I exposed my nature as a hunter of my own style.  In the dream, I let it be known that I had hunted men, and women, if for very different reasons.  That I had hunted men, at one time, in part, for a living.  And that I had also hunted many women, if more in a lost life looking for something I didn't understand.  Both things had changed.  Still in the market for a wife, but with new contemplations and devotions through faith, a critical element I had not had before.  The father didn't fully understand, on one hand.  He had risked much and gotten away with only being scalped once.  I suggested that his options as to changing women out has probably been limited.  I asked if he had lived among many women, so many that none would know the next, if he could have settled.  That sort of made sense to him, then.

The meal was good.  Much understanding, or enough, transpired.  The dandy was seen as less of a fancy Dan and more as a cautious, educated, man.  Still a bit refined for absolute tastes, but no lightweight midwit either.  I would, if they were choosing for a woman, do.  And I could be tolerated, in time perhaps even appreciated in spite of, perhaps because of, my nature.  There is nothing like having brothers.  Not all of them, or sometimes any of them, are of blood.  Not a brother I have is, was, or ever will be.  Not even, fully, that of Christ.  And yet, for His part, in His time, and for my part, even as I am, so it is.  Yes... brothers.