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Bambos and Bambots

Date: 8-Jul-2008/17:35+3:00

Tags: , , , , ,

Characters: me, girl one, man, woman, concerned man, doctor, ranting guy

I was watching some kind of strange remake of the Iron Man movie, in which there was a gruesome car accident in a convertible on a typical city Highway. People were flung from cars and literally pulverized into paste, and somehow I was transitioned into an ER or operating room where things were shuffling around on a table...with eyeballs and other parts. Knowing I was dreaming, I decided I needed to buck up and be brave and look closely.
The table seemed more like claymation of worms and other odd shaped things. I saw a skull staring at me and rattling its jaw, but instead of being scared I put it on a pile of clay and tried to get it to animate the clay and dance around with me. Which went all right, but I went hunting for some normal people and found a couple of girls in a room.
me: (suavely) "Hello there ladies..."
girl one: "You're very attractive!"
The girl grabbed me and started kissing me, but this led us to start floating backwards until we landed in a room which seemed clean but institutional. We separated and suddenly I was speaking to a guy who was praising my abilities in dreams.
man: "I've run into people from my graduating class, and I've never seen anyone anywhere close to as good at this as me...not until you. But somehow you put all the memories together."
me: "I'm not quite sure why that is. I've had no training, myself. But I've started to wonder if there's some kind of symbiotic partnership between me and something that has had training, y'know, like Jonathan Livingston Seagull type stuff. Can't really tell...no evidence to back that up...it just feels that way."
man: (laughing) "I like this guy."
I turned around and started taking a little more stock of the room. There were two sets of doors toward a long hallway. A woman was leaning up against a phone and had kind of an amused look, and started to talk to me.
woman: (laughing) "This is so weird. I had to pee...but when I went in the bathroom, and something came out of me as a brownie. And I didn't think I was going to be able to make it back in here, but then there was this grilled cheese sandwich...and when I took a bite of that I stabilized and seemed to take care of it. Okay, weird again, but it actually was pretty good. So maybe it will help you."
me: "If it comes to that. But I can take it from the way you're talking about the nonsense going on in the bathroom that perhaps we're on the same page here, about things not making sense."
I started challenging the people in the room there if they were alive, and if they had bodies on Earth of any kind. One man appeared concerned about the woman.
concerned man: "No, she...she died, had cancer. She was my mom."
A brightly and officially dressed courier bolted into the room and handed me a thin cardboard envelope which contained medical records. It was sealed. I didn't know what to do with it, but someone in a doctor outfit took it from me and filtered through. Then handed a paper to her. We all looked over her shoulder as she struggled with it.
woman: "My name is...my name is...Bonnie. Bonnie West."
concerned man: (whispered, to me, about the doctor) "Ask her about the kids!"
Note I didn't know what he meant, I thought he meant to ask the doctor about having kids, which as I wasn't interested I didn't bother with. She answered anyway, as if she either heard the question or knew I was thinking about it.
doctor: "The kids are out of control here. Plain and simple as that. If one of them runs into you here or attacks, just give them a good knock, as hard as you can."
me: "Yes, yes. I need to learn how to fight, more generally speaking. I'm getting tougher but still lose a lot of fights in dreams."
doctor: "You can't be fighting all the time. You'd never get any sleep. You might as well just do crossword puzzles instead of sleeping."
me: "Well, while we are on the subject, what's with the injections? Why am I so often being attacked with needles? I can take a few of them, but now it's like I'm being turned into a pincushion every time."
doctor: "The blowdarts and needles--those would be the bambos."
Her saying this term drove one guy in the room into a frenzy of ranting.
ranting guy: "Argh, the Bambos and Bambots! Dammit, they're everywhere...you can tell if they're around by looking for the symbols. I can't stand them."
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?