I have the usual complement of dream themes: danger, tedium, anxiety, repose, adventure, wish fulfillment, wish denial. But there’s one very specific genre of dream that I have … well, for all I know I have it all the time, but I only remember it about every six months, when I wake up in the middle and think about its plot, which makes me recall it fully on fully waking. And I don’t really know anyone else who dreams like this.
These dreams detail my involvement with or opposition to a conspiracy, or a tangled conspiratorial plot. Sometimes there are multiple conspiracies. One of the most vivid years ago cast me as part of an armed gang of paramilitaries assaulting a riverside restaurant in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. We had all been psychologically conditioned not to know anything but the next step in our plan; when we achieved an objective, we suddenly remembered the subsequent step. (This was a pretty neat trick of my subconscious, giving it versimilitudinous cover for making it up as we went along.) After we took over the restaurant and imprisoned the patrons and staff, some of us abruptly donned scuba gear and swam out to assault a passing luxury riverboat. Left back in the restaurant on guard duty, I remembered with satisfaction that the passing boat contained then-Vice President Al Gore, and we were going to kidnap him.
Last night I had one of these dreams for the first time in a long while. I believe it was partially influenced by Harry Potter mania but obviously ended up in a very different place. I lived in a world where magic operated in a very mechanistic way — used for power sources and machinery and personal convenience as opposed to spectacle — but there was still opportunity for magical deviltry. There was in fact an enormously powerful magical guy who was on the brink of achieving a horrific level of power and killing off a lot of people. Maybe all the people. He wasn’t a Voldemort type interested in taking over; he was more bestial and murderous.
Anyways, it was decided he could not be practically stopped because his only vulnerability required using a piece of his own body in a counter-weapon. But nobody was strong enough to chop off a piece of him. He was just too badass. But a way was discovered — a SCIENTIFIC way — to send an individual to an alternate world where maybe the bad guy wasn’t a badass, get a piece of him, and come back to defeat him. This scientific way involved (in awakened retrospect) a hilarious amalgam of sci-fi cliches. I had to activate a series of devices installed into a compact car, then do some stuff on a laptop while inside the car, and adjust a bunch of controls on a harness I always wore. Feels like elements of Back to the Future, Stargate, and some comic books in there. Problem was, this process took about fifteen minutes to complete, and starting it caused havoc in the local universe… stuff catching fire and exploding outside the car, gravity reversing, tsunamis appearing from nowhere. So I had to race through the whole SCIENCE without making a mistake and before external conditions destroyed my supercar.
After several tense jumps to different universes, I kept running into the bad guy, but he was still too powerful to take down. But then I jumped into a world where there was no magic! Perfect! And whoa, the bad guy version in this timeline was actually female, friendly, and attractive! We hit it off immediately and I felt very conflicted about trying to chop off a piece of her. But this conflict was rendered academic when it turned out the woman was a super-scientist and just as evil as her other versions! She figured out and duplicated my universe-jumping technology and planned to use it to become super-powerful! So now I’m fleeing through more universes fighting off magical badass guys while being pursued by scientific badass woman. I ended up in a universe where success seemed dimly possible because the local evil badass was not super powerful yet. But it turned out this was because, in this universe, he was only eight years old. Was I cold-blooded enough to chop a piece off an eight-year-old boy? We’ll never know, because I woke up, and wrote this post. I’m thinking a pilot on FX maybe? Spike?
It’s hot as balls. Plus: You are forty years old, eating dinner at Rosa Mexicano on the Upper West Side at 6:45 so you and the wife can catch an 8:25 Harry Potter and be home in time for a not unreasonable babysitting bill. The cargo pants are not going to materially degrade your hipness reading, which is pretty much already nailed at the wrong end of the gauge tonight. So enjoy those cargo pants!
Pretty sure you’ve always wanted to see me naked.. Well.. I’m feeling pretty adventurous today so go to crap(dot)crap (switch [dot] with .) then sign up and find my profile under the username ‘crapcrap’. I hid my face in the pictures. but I want you to guess who I am and then hit me up on Facebook lol. Good luck.
Note that I replaced certain elements of this anon ask with “crap.” But what caused me to remark on this is the drive to Facebook at the end. I guess that’s tacked on there to make the whole thing seem slightly more legit and coquettish, but I wonder how many sad sacks have made weird overtures to their unsuspecting Facebook creeper objects as a result of spam like this, thinking they were finally getting close to reciprocal creepery. SAD CIRCUMSTANCES FRIDAY
vruz: I read this aloud and I hear one thing with my ears, then my brain listens, and it translates it into something more like “keep poor coloured kids who can’t afford proper air conditioning outside of my view”.
I have a new title for you Chris Mohney, how about “just say no to fucking racist idiots”?
This made me stop and think. After all, I have nothing against poor black children as long as they’re sufficiently air-conditioned. Why am I so racist against them when I see pictures of them in the media when they are presumably not air-conditioned? I mean, I didn’t even know they were poor, just from that photo! But you’re right, why else would you play in a fire hydrant? You’d have to be nuts! Or poor! Or a kid! Or, I guess, black! Or some combination of these. A teachable moment for all of us, really, who are getting a little too granular with our racism.