Sunday, January 04, 2004
IN DREAMS: In lieu of a dazzingly new update, here's a classic one from last spring on the message board. I've always had a very unique relationship with my dreams, especially lately, when I'm rarely in them at all. Crack that one, Doctor Freud. Anyway, I feel it's best to post it here before Delphi crumbles to dust, which I've been assured will be any day now.
I'm at my city's shopping mall, and park my car in front of the Sears. It's only 1 minute past 9, but there are no cars in the parking lot; what the parking lot has a lot of are ANGRY MUSLIM CHILDREN; they dress like Afghani kids, but are shooting fireworks and throwing rocks at a service entrance like Palestinians, so naturally I think they're Iraqis (the news that day was filled with stories about Saddam's "little tigers"). I decide to cut out of this scene and head to the relative safety of the food court entrance.
There's a few people loitering around the food court, including several South Park characters. A guy makes a gun out of his hand and sticks his finger in my back, saying "Stick 'em up," and gets arrested immediately. I say to the officer, "Thanks," then add to the guy in an overly exaggerated sitcom voice, "and thanks for not shooting me! Ha ha ha!"
I go inside where the multiplex is, and there are about 50-100 people staring apprehensively at the box office. Kyle (from South Park, remember) has become convinced by the feature playing tonight (PENITENTARY) that the multiplex has been changed into an internment camp. I focus on a young woman who looks all in, and say "Can you believe this kid?" Then I notice she's been crying and her face is all red, so I hold her hand and say, "Don't worry, it'll work out. These things ALWAYS work out." I couldn't help but notice I recognized her from somewhere. When I woke up, I remembered she was in one of those godawful amateur Internet porn movies.
Then I realize I forgot why the hell I'm there in the first place, so I decide to go home. A couple dozen people spontaneously decide to accompany back to my car, singing Bob Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door." Then we round the corner and see the children. The people with me start screaming the HEAVEN part of the chorus. "Knock, knock, knockin' on HEAVEN's dooooooor."
The kids see us, and while I'm struck by the solidarity of the jerks' singing, I can't help but notice that not only am I in the lead of the pack as the kids start gathering their rocks for what I assume is an oncoming assault, but the people who were with me are now about three feet behind me.
AND THEN...I woke up...
Do you think my subconscious is trying to tell me something about political discussions?
I'm at my city's shopping mall, and park my car in front of the Sears. It's only 1 minute past 9, but there are no cars in the parking lot; what the parking lot has a lot of are ANGRY MUSLIM CHILDREN; they dress like Afghani kids, but are shooting fireworks and throwing rocks at a service entrance like Palestinians, so naturally I think they're Iraqis (the news that day was filled with stories about Saddam's "little tigers"). I decide to cut out of this scene and head to the relative safety of the food court entrance.
There's a few people loitering around the food court, including several South Park characters. A guy makes a gun out of his hand and sticks his finger in my back, saying "Stick 'em up," and gets arrested immediately. I say to the officer, "Thanks," then add to the guy in an overly exaggerated sitcom voice, "and thanks for not shooting me! Ha ha ha!"
I go inside where the multiplex is, and there are about 50-100 people staring apprehensively at the box office. Kyle (from South Park, remember) has become convinced by the feature playing tonight (PENITENTARY) that the multiplex has been changed into an internment camp. I focus on a young woman who looks all in, and say "Can you believe this kid?" Then I notice she's been crying and her face is all red, so I hold her hand and say, "Don't worry, it'll work out. These things ALWAYS work out." I couldn't help but notice I recognized her from somewhere. When I woke up, I remembered she was in one of those godawful amateur Internet porn movies.
Then I realize I forgot why the hell I'm there in the first place, so I decide to go home. A couple dozen people spontaneously decide to accompany back to my car, singing Bob Dylan's "Knockin' on Heaven's Door." Then we round the corner and see the children. The people with me start screaming the HEAVEN part of the chorus. "Knock, knock, knockin' on HEAVEN's dooooooor."
The kids see us, and while I'm struck by the solidarity of the jerks' singing, I can't help but notice that not only am I in the lead of the pack as the kids start gathering their rocks for what I assume is an oncoming assault, but the people who were with me are now about three feet behind me.
AND THEN...I woke up...
Do you think my subconscious is trying to tell me something about political discussions?
|| Eric 9:40 PM#
