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Don't Worry, It's Only a Ton

Date: 6-Dec-2004/15:05+3:00

Tags: , , , ,

Characters: friend, me, woman, voice, someone

I was in a strange factory, and trying to get some secret information from a friend.
Note A skeptic of the idea that any connections between people exist in dreaming, he has challenged me to extract his high-school nickname out of a dream.
friend: "stupid boy...goofball...it is along these lines"
I tried to follow up with that some more but decided it wasn't really going anywhere, and his form had changed to some person I didn't recognize. Both he and I were wearing several name tags, and my own designated me as an "Administrator".
Exploring the factory further, there were many computers and people doing weaving or other crafts. Encountering an attractive woman who was assembling something, I interrupted her.
me: "Excuse me, I'm not really sure how to conduct myself here. What's considered to be unacceptable behavior in this environment?"
woman: (depressed and woodenly) "It's not acceptable to enjoy f---ing."
Note As much as it bothers me to censor words here in the journal, I guess it might be wise to, but she was referring enjoying sex not being acceptable.
me: "Well that doesn't sound like a very pleasant policy. Who says you're not allowed to enjoy that?"
She took me to a window and pointed out a building that was called the Humbert House, which was where the oppressors lived. It had a Marquee up with some writing I couldn't read. As I tried to, a voice came over a loudspeaker.
voice: "Okay, they're about to launch a 20,000 ton attack."
Worried, I herded a group of people together near some computer terminals.
me: "All right, everybody...we've got to get down."
someone: "The announcement said ton, not megaton. We'll be fine. It's worth the risk, we get paid well."
I noticed there were computer terminals and went on trying to look for a web browser. They gathered around me and twittered nervously.
someone: "What are you DOING? Are you crazy? None of these computers are even connected."
me: "Where can I find a 'connected' computer."
someone: "The one on your desk is connected, but...what are you doing here in the first place? They monitor everything."
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copy write %C:/0304-1020 {Met^(00C6)ducation}

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?