I was laying on my back on a bed, and closed my eyes but could still see the stucco-type ceiling with a 3-D texture of white paint. Checking to see whether it was real or not, I felt my eyelids to see if they were possibly cracked open—but they weren't. Information started scrolling by on the ceiling, star-wars-intro style.
Each paragraph was preceded by an icon of a traffic cone, and the words were flying by fast. I tried to pay attention to the content, which was academic and textual in nature. This switched to shorter messages, and I started being able to read them better.
traffic cone: "god is dead"traffic cone: "god is dead"
traffic cone: "god is dead"
traffic cone: "god is god"
traffic cone: "deep"
traffic cone: "epic work"
(Note: Perhaps wishful thinking, but I understood the "epic work" was an analysis of me and my projects.)
me: "Thanks?"traffic cone: "thanks"
me: "So, it's fun and all, but I'm lonely here. So if you could send someone to keep me company I'd really appreciate it."
A giant screen appeared, levitating in the room. It had lots of numbers and information, and one number was running shorter and shorter down to zero.
(Note: It resembled an electronic clapboard that would be used for tracking timecode in a movie:
...though the numbers were measuring distance in meters, not time.)
When the counter hit zero, there was a knock at the door, and I got up off the bed and went to answer it. I was a bit disappointed to see it was my mom.
mom: "I'd called and you hadn't answered the phone, why not?"The next thing I knew I was watching some people who had put a polar bear and a tiger together to see which would win in a fight. It struck me as rather cruel.
