The image above is my depiction of a vivid nightmare from last night.
As far as I can recall it started out with me being chased by a criminal through a desolate and dark part of New York City, among decrepit buildings and abandoned warehouses. I was running for my life, taking turns and corner, trying to escape certain death at the hands of this dangerous and mysterious pursuer
Eventually I came to a small park who's tall trees blotted out any remaining light. The park was inky black. I stopped, feeling helpless and considered just dropping next to some small brush. But I elected to climb high into a tree and blend in with the foliage. The criminal arrived and passed through , unaware of my location.
I waited in the tree until morning and finally climbed down. As the early morning fog lifted, I found a subway and slipped in among the commuters. I remember feeling great relief that I was among life again and heading for another borough. I would certainly never see my pursuer again.
(Sidenote: I probably should not have been watching "The Shining" before I went to bed last night.)
Continuing my dream, I arrived home to my family's neighborhood. The neighborhood was perched on either side of a narrow but deep crevice, at the bottom of which lay a river. The homes were a honeycomb of dwellings and compartments, much like you'd see in the ghettos of Rio. They towered precariously above opposing cliffs.
And they were under attack.
Emerging from the crevice was a massive red Hydra monster with no eyes. It had many tentacles that acted independently, swiping groups of fleeing people and dropping them into it's terrifying mouth.
My friend Cindy Thoennessen, who I used to work at Charlex with, was there and told me the only way to kill the monster was to stab it in the throat at a vulnerable point. In order to get to the exposed throat, though you would have to not only dodge the monster's lethal flaling arms, but throw yourself off the cliff to reach the beast's throat. There would be very little chance of surviving even if successful.
I went to a nearby market and asked a shopkeeper for a knife. He gave me what seemed to be a rather overly large pocket knife as big as my forearm, with a switchblade.
Before I returned to kill the monster, I paused and solemnly contemplated giving my life so that my family and others could live. Once I had accepted this sacrifice, I went toward the cliffside.
But the monster had already been slain.
It turns out another ex-Charlex workmate, a computer animator, had simply thrown a bucket of dirty water on monster. It had the effect of acid and the beast disintegrated.
I remember standing there feeling very awkward. I wasn't jealous of the other victor, but I remember feeling depressed that I had mentally accepted my death so that others could live, and then was not able to follow through. It was a hard state to return from.
I came across a great blog today: Stuff White People Like . If you're white or just a really assimilated immigrant as many of my friends are you'll first laugh at this list, then it'll die down to a weak chuckle as you realize how deadly accurate it is, then you'll laugh again because the odds are that out of the 85 or so entries, chances are you only share less than half. So it's okay. You're not so easily typecast. Or at least you'll tell yourself that.
