This is the second Sith-related shopping mall dream I've had

So, I was playing Star Wars - Force Unleashed on my Wii and then I had a dream that I was Darth Vader in a swanky boutique shop in a mall purchasing a fancy package of toffee (or was it taffy), but I left my debit card on the counter for a moment and somebody saw my name and discovered my super secret Sith identity so I had no choice but to whip out my lightsaber and kill everyone in the building. I'm not sure what the Great Magnet is trying to tell me here. Either I should take out a shopping mall, or avoid candy due to my diabetes. It's one of those.

My bankruptcy hearing is today, so if I never blog again it's because I was found guilty and am locked away in debtor's prison (I assume they still exist).

RTT

It’s time for Random Tuesday Thoughts. In my case they are so random that they are appearing on Friday. That’s okay, though – it’s still a day ending with the letter “y”, so we’re cool.

For Earth Day I decided not to open a multi-national plastic producing conglomeration, detonate any nuclear weapons, or defecate in a public swimming pool or McDonald’s deep fat fryer (nobody would ever notice the latter). I doubt any of you did half as much to save the environment. Bear that in mind the next time you want to whine about my using plastic grocery bags (especially since I use them in lieu of buying regular trash bags).

When I awoke one morning, I had a brilliant idea to pitch to my company that would improve employee productivity and morale – BYOT (Bring Your Own Trout) Day. Once a week, everyone would bring their own trout to work. By the time I finished shaving, however, I had forgotten why this was such a good idea. I have to work on that last part.

I saw a cute and tiny Asian bunny in the parking lot when I returned from lunch (read: nap) today. Despite shouting “Bunny!” and hobbling after her, she didn’t stop and offer to engage in carnal relations with me. Why can’t women take a compliment in the spirit it was intended?

This morning while doing my wound care ritual, I removed the bandage from the back of my knee only to have it peel away a section of skin. So now I have to bandage even more of my leg. I love the healing process.

In closing – Bunny!

People Who Should Die, #293,538

Jerkwads who pick people up predawn from my apartment complex and signal for them to come out by HONKING THEIR FECKING HORN!

There are over 600 units in my apartment complex, and offhand I can name one person who didn't need to get up at 5:00 AM this morning.

Of course, it may not have actually happened. It occurred during one of my nightmare marathons wherein I dream bad stuff is happening then I think I wake up only to discover it's another dream that feels as real as the last one. This morning I dealt with wrecking on roads made of tar and sand, followed by a bizarre apartment configuration, then I talked to friends and told them about the dreams (and repeatedly poked them to ensure I was awake), and then I awoke to find a guy dressed like a jockey standing next to my bed. I'm still not completely convinced that I'm awake now. Feckin' DST.

Sleepytime

Last night I dreamed I lived in some place ruled by a general who wanted to induct all the children into his army for re-education. The people protested by having their children commit suicide rather than obey. We gathered at what I can best describe as a bizarre open-air ironworks factory circa 1950’s. I was in my late teens and lined up with the children to die, although I had no parents with me and did not believe the military induction to be worse than death. First, the children of the wealthy and influential lined up on a low stone wall and threatened to hang themselves if the general didn’t back down. He didn’t and some stepped into oblivion, although others cried and continued to make threats. We stood sweating under the sun as the two sides shouted rhyming slogans at each other and sang songs about death being preferable to the other side’s ideology.

Then I was sitting in a theatre, an old man, watching a grainy black and white documentary about that bleak day. The narrator said it was a horrible day eventually leading to revolt, and that the survivors should be forgiven if the events drove them mad. No kidding.

Back at the factory, the soldiers had cut down those who died and the parents ordered in the common children to stand behind the wall and resist. The children rushed forward with eager faces as if the entrance gates to the amusement park had just been thrown wide. The general ordered a firing squad, but told them to avoid shooting the remaining children of the wealthy. I lined up but didn’t make it into the factory with the first group. All except the ones lucky enough to be behind the children still standing on the wall with nooses around their necks were shot. Immediately, the parents ordered in replacements, shouting encouragement and telling us all how proud they felt.

In the future (or maybe present), we toured the set constructed for the documentary, which was built next to the rusting carcass of the original factory. People asked me to identify places where I had stood and praised me for being a hero. I didn’t feel like a hero, just somebody who wanted a nap. I politely pointed to the spot where I stood where I survived by cowering behind a teenaged girl who couldn’t bring herself to step off the wall.

The stench of sun-dried blood and clouds of flies surrounded us as we stood under the afternoon sun. I knew that I would survive because I remembered the flashes forward, but the waiting was almost unbearable. The parents ordered us to sit, sing songs, lay across the bodies of the fallen to prevent their removal, and then stand again to bravely face the firing squads to see who would back down first. Instead of moving down the line like a good boy, I stayed behind the girl and told the others to go around. Some were thrilled to be allowed to die for the cause, but a passing girl gave me a look that said she knew she was going forward to die in my place.

Then I rolled over and found myself the year 2015 in a band competing for the top of the charts against a group called Jefferson Tophat. Apparently Jefferson Airplane reformed one more time.

Sleeping for me is essentially a traumatic experience.

Muse

I had planned a lovely post for today. I awoke trying to decide which was more important - a large scale method for delivering physical products, or emotions trapped in dimension and time. For example, which is the greater concern - the ability to transport a billion hard drives to Pluto, or the amount of anxiety trapped near the third circle of Fault just off Io. I remember that this decision would have a critical affect on the Satan Fetus and was not to be taken likely. Then I went to the bathroom and finished waking up and the preceeding no longer made as much sense.

So, consider this a meme. Use my initial thoughts to blog your own post on this subject.

Doom

This morning I awoke feeling emotionally drained, which means I had another of my marathon nightmares that feel completely real. The only things I remember clearly now were eating a bowl of Corn-Pops from a flower pot, murdering Demond Wilson (Lamont from Sanford & Son) in my combination kitchen / garage, and then being investigated for animal cruelty for leaving my dog indoors while I tinkered on my Ferrari/bicycle in the shrubs. The feds confiscated everything in my apartment, including cabinets and lights, and said I would be going away for good if they found anything weird and related to animals. Upon awaking, I remembered having the sincere belief that I faced life in prison because my computer hard drive contains a short story I wrote about a land threatened by Giant Atomic Chickens*. Cool side note - my dream hard drive was contained in a glowing blue drawer and looked like a black leather-bound book with an iPod perched on top.

So, the Great Magnet has warned me that my future is bleak. I've already been kicked out of various bars, colleges, churches, and shopping malls for basically being me, but I've never done any serious jail time or been fired. I arrived this morning dreading the worst and got plucked into a meeting before I even had a chance to boot my computer. During this meeting I tried to defend my position on how I can't do my job until higher paid people further upstream do their jobs, then I returned to my desk and got embroiled in one of those fun "don't ask me - tain't my job" series of e-mails wherein I was copied, not because I had any info to provide, but because too many people know who I am. Then my supervisor invited me to his office, which never happens, so I wandered the corridors looking for his new office, wondering how long I can last on unemployment.

Anyway, the bad news: everybody here says I do fantastic work and they've just given me a raise, back-dating it so it appears in tomorrow's paycheck.

I was finally given a key to my new cubicle (they're just moving me to consolidate some group) and in the drawers I discovered a raffle ticket to win a new Ford Mustang. Unfortunately, the drawing was in November of 2001**. NOOOOOOOOO!!!! Curse you, Fates. At least the doom is over. Time to go spend my new raise on some Japanese food.

* In case you're wondering, that one hasn't been published yet. A lot of editors don't share my artistic vision.

** Which is really curious since the cubicles were just installed here at the end of 2005.