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ellarienThis was a weird one, complete with setting and a protagonist, though it didn't get quite as far as having a plot.
There was a city that was recognizably the one where I grew up, but it was mostly in ruins, the houses shuttered when they weren't heaps of rubble. Aliens were living in the gardens, in huts that looked like oil barrels with big doorways cut in them; the more elaborate dwellings involved more than one barrel, and I spotted one that had a staircase running back through the window of the house behind it.
The protagonist was a young man who was on the verge of leaving home to set up for himself; custom required that he did this without ever directly discussing it with his family, but there seemed to be some kind of tacit understanding with his dad, which resulted in him being slipped bits of advice and useful gifts. He was getting married, too, and carried a ring that he was going to offer to his prospective wife.
When the journey began, the conveyance -- something bus-like or taxi-like, probably horse-drawn -- was shared with an old woman who turned out to live in a tumbledown terraced house, which marked her as extremely rich. After dropping her off, the vehicle trundled on, and presently came to a place where there were only ruins and rubble. I woke up as we were struggling uphill, across the bridge over the railway line.
Possible sources: Ian MacLeod, Galaxy Quest, mangled images of the French Quarter.
There was a city that was recognizably the one where I grew up, but it was mostly in ruins, the houses shuttered when they weren't heaps of rubble. Aliens were living in the gardens, in huts that looked like oil barrels with big doorways cut in them; the more elaborate dwellings involved more than one barrel, and I spotted one that had a staircase running back through the window of the house behind it.
The protagonist was a young man who was on the verge of leaving home to set up for himself; custom required that he did this without ever directly discussing it with his family, but there seemed to be some kind of tacit understanding with his dad, which resulted in him being slipped bits of advice and useful gifts. He was getting married, too, and carried a ring that he was going to offer to his prospective wife.
When the journey began, the conveyance -- something bus-like or taxi-like, probably horse-drawn -- was shared with an old woman who turned out to live in a tumbledown terraced house, which marked her as extremely rich. After dropping her off, the vehicle trundled on, and presently came to a place where there were only ruins and rubble. I woke up as we were struggling uphill, across the bridge over the railway line.
Possible sources: Ian MacLeod, Galaxy Quest, mangled images of the French Quarter.