Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Down the 700 steps to deeper slumber…

I don’t know what city I was in when the dream started.  It looked like southern Florida, except the weather was drier.  I was being held captive in a medium rise, semi-luxury hotel, with a view of a sea of trees from the 14th floor. 

The green was a rich deciduousness of a river hollow in mid-July slowly undulating in the wind.  From that height it seemed that broccoli waves slowly crashed into the base of the building as the breeze blew through. Nearly all of the antagonists looked like a cross between Mike from Breaking Bad and Ed Harris.  They had guns, lots of guns, and while cordial they were very clear we were not allowed to leave.


I actually thought to myself in the dream that it was really dumb to let us keep our phones and allow us access to wireless internet as everybody seemed to have a laptop.  In hindsight (as dreams often replay scenes over and over) I believe there was a Stockholm Device activated in the room, as nobody mentioned the hostage situation in all their phone calls to loved ones or updates to social media. "Oh, hi, Mom. . . No, we're just hanging out at this hotel", "Do not order room-service in this hotel. #HelpYelp!".

I never knew why we were being detained, none of us were anything but what we were in the waking world.  Friends, acquaintances, family, and so on were all spread across several rooms in a blocked off floor of the hotel.  The leader of the group was the most embarrassing cliche' of a terrorist with long robes, crazy eyes, unkempt beard and quite literally a lit black spherical bomb under his turban.  This cartoonish madman had somehow obtained a nuclear weapon and was intent on detonating it in downtown Dreamtown, USA.

Now is when things get disjointed and weird.  Crazy McTerropants leaves with his cartoon bomb and we are left to our own devices.  There is a scuffle, a firefight and I'm pretty sure I gunned down actor Burt Young who was a thug but father to one of the other prisoners. . . but I digress

I had a superpower.  Or at least a nearly supernatural talent of transportation.  I could instantly know the best route to get someplace, what plane to catch, what bus to hop and even which taxi to skip to avoid a future collision.  I then spent the rest of the dream logged into Travelocity, arranging flights out of the city for all my friends and relatives before the bomb went off.

You will note that nobody, not even me, ever mentioned to the authorities that there was a terrorist plot (because, dream logic).  After giving specific directions to everybody as to how to most quickly leave the city and reach safe distance from the oncoming fallout the dream came to a close.  The final scene before I awoke was myself and my mate clinking champagne flutes on a comped first class flight to Hawaii while a mushroom cloud rises out the window in the background.


The End

(What the Actual Fuck?)