Dream Reaver
Apr. 21st, 2008 04:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfield"At twenty years of age the will reigns; at thirty, the wit; and at forty, the judgment."
- Benjamin Franklin (Founding father, Philadelphian, lover and polymath)
I don't usually remember my dreams. But this one from last night was different. It was present day, in Karachi, Pakistan. As a matter of fact, it was April 21, exactly. I know this because the central action of my dream involved me arranging a birthday present for my friend Ethan. Somehow I was able to get him a stand-up comedy gig, opening for the Flight of the Conchords. (I know! What a thoughtful and creative gift! That's the kind of guy I am.) But Ethan got really upset at me, not because of the Karachian venue, but because it didn't leave him enough time to prepare. So I decided to take the gig myself. That afternoon (it was an afternoon concert), in the blazing desert sun (it was an outdoor ampitheater), I was ready to go on when these Pakistani rebels started shooting at us ("us" being the audience and me; I don't remember now if Ethan was there, too) across this wide gulch. So we started shooting back. I don't remember shooting, personally; I just hid behind some concrete pillars (or stucco, or whatever it was). I felt pretty safe there, until the enemy outflanked us. Before I could move, this guy in a green T-shirt (now that I think about it, he looked a lot like Bret McKenzie) came up next to me and shot me in the chest. That's when I woke up -- but not in a panicked sweat. I was calm and peaceful, like I was on the receiving end of a hug.
It was weird.
So happy birthday, Ethan. I hope you'll be happy with a simple gift certificate.
- Benjamin Franklin (Founding father, Philadelphian, lover and polymath)
I don't usually remember my dreams. But this one from last night was different. It was present day, in Karachi, Pakistan. As a matter of fact, it was April 21, exactly. I know this because the central action of my dream involved me arranging a birthday present for my friend Ethan. Somehow I was able to get him a stand-up comedy gig, opening for the Flight of the Conchords. (I know! What a thoughtful and creative gift! That's the kind of guy I am.) But Ethan got really upset at me, not because of the Karachian venue, but because it didn't leave him enough time to prepare. So I decided to take the gig myself. That afternoon (it was an afternoon concert), in the blazing desert sun (it was an outdoor ampitheater), I was ready to go on when these Pakistani rebels started shooting at us ("us" being the audience and me; I don't remember now if Ethan was there, too) across this wide gulch. So we started shooting back. I don't remember shooting, personally; I just hid behind some concrete pillars (or stucco, or whatever it was). I felt pretty safe there, until the enemy outflanked us. Before I could move, this guy in a green T-shirt (now that I think about it, he looked a lot like Bret McKenzie) came up next to me and shot me in the chest. That's when I woke up -- but not in a panicked sweat. I was calm and peaceful, like I was on the receiving end of a hug.
It was weird.
So happy birthday, Ethan. I hope you'll be happy with a simple gift certificate.
