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Thinking Africamattically

Date: 24-Jan-2017/9:56+3:00

Tags: , , ,

Characters: me, Madonna, mom, woman

I was working on trying to assemble a bathroom door, in a place where it seemed Madonna was behind a small improvised bar making drinks. I asked her if she had any directions for the door, and she handed me some papers. I flipped through them.
I was non-lucid and somewhat nonchalant about the fact that this person looked to be Madonna, as if she was someone I "just knew".
me: (shaking head) "That's just coupons and an ad for a hardware store. Only useful if it's not expired."
Madonna: "Thanks for telling me."
me: "Uh, so, are you... uh, making drinks or just standing there?"
Madonna: "I'm sort of trying to make drinks, but I'm slow at it."
me: "Well I'll take a sweet martini like thing, that isn't a cosmopolitan."
Madonna: "What about something with Sambuca?"
me: "Um, I guess. I'm easily suggestible."
She handed me my ID and credit card and something else that was an "Express Lane Membership". But I realized somehow it was a fake joke card that you just pulled out to cut in line in front of other people.
I started levitating in front of a large spectrum of movie times or somesuch. There was some kind of sign saying "If you're mad to find out that your express lane membership got you in front of just one other person, you can have a refund...but there's some other benefits. You get discounts on all store items, access to special events..."
Where I was dropped was a place where some kind of egg shaped things would crack open to a silly putty you put on your feet, that you used to levitate to higher floors. It was a shopping complex and performance center of some kind. I wandered around a bit until I ran into my parents at a store that sold the foot-eggs.
mom: "Aimee Mann sings every night at their other store. You should go, it's not been very busy since you've not been around. Do you mind if I tell Lady Gaga I saw you?"
me: (becoming lucid) "Um. You mean, like if you tweet it at her or Facebook it at her? That's well and good, but if when I wake up you tell me you know Lady Gaga...that would be like me telling people I know Madonna because she made me a drink earlier. I don't and I have no idea what the hell is going on in this dreamworld."
She ceased looking like my mother at this point, but some other woman I don't recognize.
woman: "You're going to have to get used to things being different than what you think they are."
me: (angrily) "Used to what, there not being facts? Facts don't matter? So Donald Trump is right? :-/"
woman: (turning her back) "Sure. Africamattically"
me: "Africamatically?!"
woman: (articulating) "I said affirmatically, as in affirmation. I mean to say that how things go around you have a lot to do with how often you affirm them, and it creates its own gravity. In that sense he's kind of right. Of course, I'm really just being a devil's advocate about positive thinking because I'm in a good mood, I'm dating again. Maybe you should go upstairs and be affirmatic and see how it works with the girls there, there are some pretty ones."
She pointed at a board which was some kind of joke sign about penis size.
woman: "Why don't you try something new? Instead of being the smart guy, or the cool clothes guy, be the 'big penis' guy. Hey, it could be true. It's at least relatively true."
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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?