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Don't Worry Pluto, I'm Not a Planet Either

Date: 31-Aug-2008/7:12+3:00

Tags: , , , , ,

Characters: me, him, voice, girl, her

I was reading something about Pluto's de-classifcation as a planet. It was actually a more broad range of things that were being removed. All space object classes less than 10 meters in width were being removed.
Somehow I was floating in space and passing Pluto, which was in this case only 10 meters wide. It wasn't a planet, it was a crystalline shaped mechanical object. It began to spin and morph, and as it did my body began to be in pain. I became more lucid as I floated near a kind of space station.
My instincts told me I had a light saber, so I pulled one out. There was some kind of sign or logo that said "Kill All Shapeshifters". Using the light saber I cut a hole into the side of the space station, but then realized there was a door. This led to me fighting several people who were trying to kill me with green lightsabers (mine was red)...but I fended them off using an odd mix of slicing them up and telekinesis.
Finally I met a large Samoan-seeming guy who was too tough to be harmed with either technique. He started trying to inflict real pain on me.
me: "Ow!"
him: "Oh we're just getting started!"
me: "Okay, stop. I don't really want to fight, I'm just fighting because I was attacked. I give up."
him: "You can't give up!"
me: "Yes I can. Here I go."
I invoked my reflex to wake up. When I did, I was looking at a flat screen which had the guy who I'd been fighting on it. On screen facing me, he shot at me with some kind of gun, and I somehow vaguely felt it as he laughed.
him: (on screen) "Good night!"
Surveying the room I was in, there were a lot of bunk beds. I felt like I was floating, and, the screen I had been looking at was on the ceiling.
me: "This place... it looks... very..."
voice: "Nerdy?"
me: "Yes, and it's like a summer camp or something. Or it's underground."
As I gained my bearings and became able to walk, I started to fear I was trapped in a bunker of some kind. But I walked to a window and saw an ordinary enough suburban view out of it--I was on the second floor.
me: "This doesn't look much like the future."
voice: "We don't like to use the future to describe this, that's a word we use for other things."
Note I had a vague notion that at some point I had gone to a menu and downgraded something from 'future' to 'contemporary', it could have been another dream entirely.
Wandering into a dining room type area, I encountered a girl who may or may not have been the source of the voice. She was wearing a tank top.
me: "Okay what is going on here? That thing with the lightsabers, is that a video game? How did I get into it or out of it? My ordinary life isn't like this, have I swapped bodies with someone who plays the game? Or do I play the game and get brain damaged to where I don't remember things?"
girl: "Oh, then you've got it too. Same thing happened to my friend. It's that game."
me: "What game?"
her: "Dark Earth."
Note This is the second instance of Dark Earth. The first was when someone approached me as a representative who was to speak with me about being from a Dark Earth Colony.
me: "Okay, I've 'got it too', well how do I stop it?"
girl: "Stop playing the game. Then it stops."
We moved into a computer lab. I saw a few white MacBooks, but there were hundreds of rows of black computers and people sitting at them.
me: "The technology, the immersion for the game... how does that work?"
girl: "You look at the screen and you run the program, it's called Time Machine."
me: "Time Machine? That's what they called the backup software for OS/X."
girl: "Yes, that's something I heard about, interesting."
We walked up to a computer that had a piece of masking tape on its screen and she tapped on it for a second. Its machine name was something like jurass.
me: "Why the big lab? Can't everyone have their own computer?"
her: "We don't like it that way. We prefer the hustle and bustle."
There was a police officer who passed me as I faded and started to wake up.
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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?