Poetry

I had a dream last night that Anonymous sent me a poem that expressed how my blog had changed his life for the better. He sent a photo of himself along with the poem.

I then had a dream in which these huge balls of red smoke were in the sky in my hometown. I was in a crowd of people looking at the sky. These balls would appear above the canopy of trees in my parents' back yard and would then be hurled towards the earth. We couldn't tell where they were landing, nor could we tell what they were. I said "I think it's fire" but then someone said "No, because there's no fire on the ground indicating where they've landed." The military soon appeared, and told everyone that we had to be rushed to protective camps. "Terrorists," they guessed, and forced us to move along.

I stared at the sky, wondering what was to become of Medway. I wondered why they'd chosen Medway as a target. The camp was a huge, white outdoor tent - imagine the type of tent you'd put up in your backyard if you were hosting a wedding.

I took my place amongst the frightened people. People were all lying down on their backs, just waiting. Nobody spoke. I located my VP in the crowd and said "I want to be near you, just in case we are the last two people left on earth and have the responsibilty of repopulating it. That way the species would have a chance of being tall."

I then realized that I had to go to the bathroom. The military was stern and would not allow anyone to leave the camp. I said "Listen, that is my parents' house. It's totally ok if I just leave for a second." They wouldn't allow me to leave. They could not be convinced.

Then, out of nowhere, Anonymous appeared! I recognized him from his photo. He said "I'll get you in there. It's the least I can do for you."

And then I woke up.

This is another instance of completely obvious and derivative dreaming. Fire in the sky, terrorists, not knowing what was going on. All based on Friday's weird experience of calm in the face of possible terrorism. Not being allowed to go into the house to use the bathroom was definitely a shout-out to Curb Your Enthusiasm (the episode in which Larry attends a pool party and the guests are not allowed to use the facilities in the house). The white tent was in response to Werner Herzog's The White Diamond, which I saw last night.

I am perplexed, however, by the sentimental dreaming about My Mundane Life In Song.

I am distressed that I am dreaming about blogs. And my blog in particular. What a waste of potential good dream content. Contagious media is taking over my neurons.

My subconscious is so uncreative.