I know, I know, talking about one’s dreams is self-indulgent narcissism, but it’s a tradition at the blork blog. As such, here are brief descriptions of a few recent dreams.
Barack Like Me
I was Barack Obama. I don’t mean I was Barack Obama, I mean I was inside the head of Barack Obama. As in, had I looked into a mirror, I would have seen Barack Obama looking back.
And yes, I was the President of the United States. And how did I wield this magnificent power? I walked out of a darkened board room (very 24), and before the Secret Service guys could get stop me I barged through the security gate (going the other way) and walked over to a vending machine in the public area of whatever building I was in. I bought a bottle of water, waved at some goggle-eyed bystanders, and went back through security and into my meeting.
I was designing a rifle that shot bullets that looked like the swirly onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square, Moscow. The cutaway drawing of the design is quite vivid in my memory. It makes absolutely no sense in the waking world, but in my dream it was a revolutionary concept.
We got nuked. Not microwaved; nuked. I don’t remember the details, but there was a sense of urgency in the air, and then a flash in the sky and ka-boom, an enormous mushroom cloud rising up into the atmosphere about ten miles away. What I remember thinking was “Hey. I’m still alive.”