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Wednesday, March 10, 2004 Strange Dreams I got up to turn off the alarm, but I notice that it's one o'clock in the morning. I shrug. Maybe the clock is wrong. I don't bother changing it and head on back to bed. Except that's not where I go. I find myself in a classroom at the top secret headquarters of Microsoft. The teacher is a wide-eyed monster with lavender skin with a penchant for ladies' legs. The students giggle moronically--in awe and brainwashed. Today's lesson is an examination of a sculpture of petrified shake-and-bake chicken. I don't get it. Some of the students invite me to join them for dinner. The restaurant has a tavern like setting with dark wood paneling and low lighting. My new brainwashed friends are excited. Someone is joining us. Someone famous. A figure walks toward our table. It's a transgendered version of Bill Gates. As I try to digest that bit of "fact", he/she/it suggests that we all go to the theater. The theater is an auditorium with seats ranging up in amphitheater style. The seats in front are filled and I climb the steps to the top. It's a long way up and suddenly I feel a little vertigo. I clutch the walls which suddenly move, rotating and spitting me out to the other side in a mirror image of the previous theater. Except here, people are dancing. I get lost in the tumult of raving bodies. When I "wake up" I find myself lying on the floor of a hotel in front of an open mini-fridge. There aren't any tiny bottles of liquor in the fridge. But there are deli sandwiches in there, slowly rotting. I close the fridge and head to the shower thinking that might enlighten me. But as I'm drying myself with the towel, I happen to look in the mirror and a strange face stares back at me. I've somehow swapped bodies with a Hong Kong starlet! While I'm trying to rub away what seems to be permanent eyeliner and eyeshadow, I hear the door to the hotel room open. I hear a man's voice saying that he's the date arranged by my parents. Oh no, my parents would never arrange a date for me. I yank open the bathroom door to see a short, fat, balding man (sort of like Danny DeVito and Wally from the Dilbert cartoon rolled into one) standing at the threshold. How the hell did he get the key in here? Once he spots me, he professes his undying love and then promptly flops onto the couch. He asks me why I'm running late. I say I overslept. He accuses me of reading the entire night. Reading? I calmly inform him that I was at a party with some friends and that if he wanted to be sure, he can call them. He then bellows that I shouldn't lie to him. Lie to him? He doesn't have any right to demand that of me. I don't even know him. I open my mouth to give the ugly little man a piece of my mind when I really do wake up. [posted by S. Y. Affolee on 6:07 AM : ]
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