I’ll preface this by saying that it’s bizarre. So, for those
who like the weird and nonsensical, this one’s for you. For those who prefer my more rational side,
well…perhaps there's some rhyme to my apparent madness.
Last night I was at a church in Wales. The church consisted of several small rooms,
and people would traipse through the rooms, and each one was like an artist’s
gallery or display. Most people frowned
or ignored me as they passed through my room.
I was wearing my MP3 player, listening to the Olympics, but the actual sporting event was a European-style touring car race. Through the
speakers in my particular room poured the old song “I Want to be a Clone”
from Christian Alternative Rock star Steve Taylor. A black, vaguely human figure lay on the
floor. Pasted over the head was a
two-dimensional picture of Steve Taylor’s face. And people were kneeling down to examine the
face and body. One man in particular
rose and announced that he didn’t like it, that he thought it was weird. (Hey, even my subconscious thought this was
weird). Then my MP3 player, still
playing the Olympic-touring car race, suddenly squealed and went off. A lady beside me examined it, and said that
its pneumatic pressure valve had blown. And then I woke up.
I’m guessing that the Church theme is a holdover from last
night’s dream (and yesterday’s blog). We
did attend a Church in Wales on this year's vacation, but it looked nothing like this. I didn’t watch much of the Olympics this
year, but last night I
did watch the highlights of the most recent round of the DTM German Touring Car championship. I haven’t listened to Steve Taylor much in
recent years, but his signature song must forever be “I Want to be a Clone.” That ties in with Dorsk 81's death in Kevin J. Anderson's novel Darksaber, which I covered in When
Your Favorite Characters Die: Part 1.
As to the failure of my MP3 player, either it has to do with
1) the pneumatic valves in modern race car engines, 2) I’ve grown bored with
the playlist I loaded several years ago, but haven’t gotten around to changing,
or 3) that the player seems to drain the batteries faster than usual. The squeal could have to do with the little
dogs next door, as one doesn’t just bark, but makes all kinds of squealing and
mewling sounds, as if it’s being dealt a mortal blow. Or it could have to do with Harry Harrison's novel The Stainless
Steel Rat Returns, in which Slippery Jim DiGriz must transport his brother and a herd of porcuswine (a mixture of pig and porcupine) to another
world.
As for the succession of rooms, and the art display, I can
only surmise that it references my pursuit of a writing career. For before I can be published, I’ll have to
continually submit query letters, book proposals, and manuscripts. After publication, publishers will expect me
to help pursue the public’s interest, and pounce on every opportunity I can to point
out to Joe Public, “Here, look at my work, it has value for your life, please
give it a try.”
It’s interesting how the subconscious grabs up all the
different aspects of my life and tries to fit them together. It’s as if I knocked over several puzzle
boxes, but as I try to decide which belongs to each puzzle, I’ve somehow lost
the pictures that show how each will fit together. Perhaps my subconscious mind thought it was
doing something important for me last night.
While last night’s dream lacks the coherence of the previous night’s
one, it seems to have built upon some of the underlying ideas and thoughts I’ve
been working through lately. Whether
tonight’s dream turns out to be weird or intelligible, I look forward to
watching what stories my subconscious mind will cobble together from the
disparate pieces of my life.
Mystified but entertained,
Dragon Dave
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