Nothing gets your heart going first thing in the morning like exciting dreams; today apparently it was still too calm, so I got to have TWO exciting dreams!
The first one began aboard one gigantic starship, which turned out to be the deep space version of an aircraft carrier. Everyone aboard was either a fighter jock, an engineer/mechanic, or a medic. After some initial fumbling about I realized I was (of course) a fighter jock.
The fighters were unconventional to say the least. They were not sleekly aerodynamic; why would they need to be? They were instead built for practicality. Nearly perfect ovoid shapes, heavily covered in ablative armor, and capable of carrying heavy shield generators, powerful engines, and turret mounted energy and mass-driver weaponry along with a central ring of hard points to mount short range high speed missiles. The fighters were also roomy enough to carry two comfortably, and four in a pinch (more on that later). The pilots "chairs" were more like lounges with restraining straps. In casual flight, you sat down, strapped in, and reclined slightly; controls were in the armrest mounted dual joysticks. In combat, the whole thing moved so you were lying flat, and rather than the view ports which covered over in combat you had a 360 degree monitor view in front of your face.
Our first scramble came minutes into the dream, and it began with almost literally diving in to the fighters in low-gee, then being ripple-launched from tubes all around the carrier. My first view of the space we were in was breathtaking. Far ahead of us were massive streamers of cloud and interstellar gas, stretching for light years away from where our ship was moving. We were skirting the fringe of a field of scattered asteroids and more wisps of dust and gas, covering a region of space the area of Earth's orbit. We were deep in interstellar space; the closest stars were at least 4 to 5 light years away. Every direction I looked was awe inspiring; millions of stars, vast nebulae, billion mile long streamers of dust lit faintly from within by stars forming, from without by the glow from stars already born. Far off, but still close enough to see and recognize with the naked eye was the Eagle Nebula, and the Pillars of Creation.
Our destination was an exoplanet (maybe one in the constellation Serpentis) about 300 light years from Earth. Our fleet had been under way for 10 to 20 years, roughly half way on the journey. Our FTL drives needed to "recharge" periodically, so we were traveling below light speed. At some point we had run into another space-faring race, and war had begun almost immediately. We had no idea what the other race was like. Apparently in the two years or so of running combat, no prisoners had been taken, and either the enemy ship were self-destructing, or were simply so damaged in battle no useful wreckage was ever recovered.
The first battle was like a swarm of wasps fighting another swarm of wasps. The enemy ships were designed very differently, like a stellated Dodecahedron (look it up) with some of the points truncated for weapons, or engine ports. They were a bit larger and harder to destroy, but slower than our fighters. The swirling battle had at least 100 ships from both sides fully engaged over volume of space large enough to float hold Jupiter. The enemy objective was clear, they were trying to punch through and take out at least one of our carriers; we were fighting defensively to stop them at all costs. Behind us I could see more of our fleet, but in glimpses so brief as to give me no clue about size or numbers. I was focused on my HUD and on killing the closest attacker while not getting destroyed myself. Somehow our weapons never struck one of our own ships; I guess "friendly fire" was turned off. Regardless the space around me still was getting criss-crossed with intense bars of light from the energy weapons, streaks of blue glowing mass driver shots, and the occasional missile, fireball, or filed of debris. I had no real idea how many enemy ships I hit or destroyed, although I was certain of one as I flew right in to the expanding ball of hot gas and debris as it exploded.
My fighter spun and tumbled from the shock wave and the multitude of hits, then ricocheted off some stupid chunk of ice and rock that had wandered into my area. By the time I recovered full control the fight was over. The remaining enemy ships were retreating towards the asteroid field and dust cloud, and we were forming up into a wall of coverage until our carrier called us back.
That was when I got my first look at what we were actually a part of. The fleet was massive; at least a hundred ships in all, spread out so far that it would take minutes to travel from one to another even at the full speed my fighter could produce. There were two dozen carriers at least forming a massive sphere around an inner ring of what guess were battleships or destroyers, and inside that was the core of 40 or 50 gigantic colony ships. Each of those was at least the size of a large city. Imagine New York City being ripped out of the ground, subways, sewers and all, then stuck into a roughly spherical mass with San Francisco and Las Vegas sticking out from the other sides. Glowing lights, towering structures and vast stretches of metal driven forward by huge clusters of engines. This was more than just a colonization, it was more like a diaspora of an entire country.
When I got back aboard the carrier I was launched from, my first objective was food then a shower. That plan changed however when I ran across one of our senior medical staff; she was on her way to drop off something in her lab then head to one of the cafeteria style restaurants aboard. I asked if I had time to shower and then join her for food, and she smiled and said "sure!" She had dark blonde hair just past her shoulders and a rather pixie-ish face, and was perhaps 5' 6" or so. I didn't have to look down much to look in her eyes. When she moved on and waved I picked up my pace and headed for the showers and some clean clothes. Since we all seemed to wear jump suits I didn't have to worry about fashion....
Dinner must have been successful, as the next part was a montage covering several days. A few more scramble missions, some scouting and "Combat Air Patrol" during which I got to look more at our fleet as well as more moments of talking to the woman (who must have had a name, but we never seemed to use any) and at one point waking up in either her room or mine and deciding that it was breakfast, regardless of what time it was aboard ship. She also seemed to be spending a great deal of time tending to my minor injuries or more serious injuries after each mission. I guess she liked me.
Finally during one of the lulls between fights where our scanners and patrols could find no sign of our opponents I invited her to take a short joy ride in my fighter. She had never been off the carrier, and had barely even had time to look at any of the displays of the space we were drifting through. We only had another day or two before we could resume FTL travel and I wanted to show her the fleet and the incredible views. Our launch was much less bullet-like as there was no threat, and I had a passenger. Her gasp came instead from the sudden view of the nebula directly ahead of us that filled a full quarter of the sky (I had carefully chosen where to launch from). Each slow turn of my ship brought another exclamation of joy or amazement from her, and several pats on my shoulder or back; it's hard to hug while wearing a flight suit. She was obviously having a spectacular time. Our tour cut short after only 20 minutes or so as a warning came that there had been possible contact reported. Before I could get us back aboard a flight of maybe a dozen enemy fighters screamed in towards us, and I was not going to dogfight with her aboard. That was up to our CAP to handle, and I fled at maximum toward the cover of the ring of battleships as they were closer than my carrier was, taking evasive action while staying as close as possible to a straight line course.
We made our escape with nothing more than minor scrapes and burns on the hull where something made it through the shield, and she was remarkably calm during the flight, only reacting once we were aboard the battleship. I thought a certain amount "ohmygodwheredidtheycomefromwealmost got killedareyou OK?" was called for myself. I was annoyed enough however by the stupid enemy doing enemy stuff that the moment my fighter was checked and fully armed I took off and joined a huge patrol group that was going to sweep the asteroid field several thousand kilometers away. Seemingly the little raiding party had attached their ships to some of the outlying bits of debris and powered down, lying in ambush. Taking the large number of fighters we did turned out to be an excellent decision, as a swarm of enemy fighters detached and engaged us as we began our sweep. Either they had nothing aboard their ships that allowed them to determine how many fighters we had until it was too late, or powering down left them unable to scan. Either way the result was the same. Our patrol contained nearly half the total number of fighters in the whole fleet, perhaps as many as six hundred all told.
We came in like a swarm of piranha, savaging the enemy fighters en passant with the lead ships and letting the ones behind us finish them off. Scanners lit up like fireworks as a single enemy carrier lurking deeper in the asteroid field scrambled to bring its own engines and weapons on-line before we struck. They didn't even come close to making it.
Fighter after fighter swept towards it almost completely ignoring the defenders it was trying to launch, unloading every missile and firing every weapon at the carrier as we closed, then making the hardest skew-turns possible in order to bring weapons to bear again. The fight was over in less than two minutes; silent explosions and gouts of debris, vapor and ignited gasses were shooting out from every section of the carrier. Even in zero gravity the vessel was pitched at a bizarre looking angle and tumbling as well, as engines and steering jets were firing in erratic bursts as control systems disintegrated, or simply blew apart themselves. Asteroids and smaller debris began adding to the destruction, and with the last enemy fighters savaged into vapor as well we turned back toward our fleet. Behind us another silent explosion of massive scale took place as the power sources aboard the carrier all failed, making a tiny and very short lived star.
Close to the edge of the field I broke off from our ragged formation; something had caught my eye near one of the smaller (house sized) chunks of ice/rock/iron floating about. Drifting along near it I saw a trail of debris, looking like the remains of an enemy fighter, but larger and more intact than ever. My best guess was that one of them had either struck or been struck by the small asteroid, and had come apart before whatever scuttling charge aboard could destroy the remains. Even more surprising was my realization that there were two humanoid suited figures there as well. I stopped my fighter relative to the rock and exited my ship. Sure enough there were two intact suits, looking like fantasy armor and with completely feature shrouding helmets. I secured them with some thin wire rope I had brought with me and stuffed them inside my fighter, then flew back to my own carrier.
For some reason I didn't signal ahead with the information of what I had found, so there was no one but the normal crew of engineers and medics, along with my new girlfriend when I arrived. The reaction when I pulled the dead or unconscious figures from my ship was as expected. The alarming part came when one of the crew yanked off the one helmet, then the other. The aliens inside where human, apparently just as much as we were; and they were also clones. Command personnel arrived, and since the cat was already out of the bag they told us the truth. These were in fact people from Earth, from our own country in fact. They had been sent out by a new government that was opposed to our journey, and they had been cloned and trained solely for the purpose of stopping us and eliminating every ship in the fleet.
The second dream was more prosaic by far. I was an actor in a troupe that had decided to produce a huge original production based in part on Treasure Island. The actors were expected to help the technical crew build sets, hang lights etcetera, as there was no way they could get the huge task completed on time otherwise.
Our director unfortunately was a blend of Uwe Boll and the crappy manager played by Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada". He had all sorts of huge visions for the show... which already used a full scale modular pirate ship as the stage.... but every facet of construction was micro-managed with sarcasm, harsh criticism and periodic outbursts like a verbal Vesuvius. At one point I was working with a fellow pirate, who was insisting on tacking down the black carpeting that covered all the deck surfaces without taking out the bulges and wrinkles. I was moving along behind him, re-tacking everything when the director saw me. "What are you doing? Are you a moron? Maybe you can't tell the difference between something that's done and something that isn't!" I stood up and pointed at a long ramp with so many bulges in the carpet it looked like a black Ruffles potato chip.
"You are going to have over twenty people all carrying swords and black powder pistols running up and down that ramp, sometimes under nothing but dim blue light. If you want to die that way, you play all the parts." He stared at me in utter disbelief for a moment, then turned on the other actor. "Are you some kind of low grade moron? What sort of utter idiot would leave ripples like that in stage carpeting? People could TRIP on that you half-wit! Both of you, get that carpet fixed NOW! Do I have to supervise every single step of this?!?" Off he stormed, and for a moment it was a toss-up between the other actor and I as to who was going to put a staple in him from behind. Instead we went back to pulling up the carpet and re-stapling it.
At some point we finished the construction, because we began performing the play itself. I have to say, either our skill overcame his directing or it was so well written no one could really screw it up; the audience loved it. Thunderous applause, cheers at the end of every fight scene, and an ovation at the end of the show. (I have no clue what the actual story was; this part of the dream was just rushing about, shooting, fighting, more rushing about, and the sounds of crowd joy...)
We must have done really well, because the next thing I knew we had taken the show on tour. This only added to the complexity our dear Fuehrer added. Now, we were building the whole thing so it could actually float, still come apart into various sections, and the audience would watch from bleachers built to look like ship hulls constructed on the shore of whatever damned lake we were now floating on. I was going not-so-quietly apeshit. Among other things I have an aversion to mixing power cable and water; this was true for the dream me as well. Now, to add verisimilitude (I guess) we were all wearing pirate garb while working, actors and tech crew alike. Not our actual costumes, cheaper stuff..... but still well made and fairly expensive. And hot. This included the director of course, who was now strutting about in a black velvet version of Captain Jack Sparrow's regalia, shouting orders, praising his vision, belittling our efforts and talent, and generally pissing everyone off.
The final coda came during a rehearsal on the new, floating, awkward, unstable set. During one scene another actor tripped as a set of stairs shifted under him. He turned to blame me, as he decided either I was the one who built them or because I was the closest. Regardless it was a very bad choice, as not only do I not tolerate being blamed for things that are not my fault in real life, at the time I had a cutlass in one hand and a (blank firing) Flintlock pistol in my belt. Before he finished his sentence I was in his face, and so close I could have either kissed him or bitten his nose off. I cut him off and delivered a quick warning about watching his mouth, with a large helping of adjectives and nouns added.
The director chose that particular moment to step up and open HIS mouth. I have no idea what he actually planned to say, as I took four quick steps over to him, lifted him by his stupid sash belt and a lapel, and threw him off the set. Deck. Whatever. He found out several things very quickly. Velvet is very heavy when wet. Lakes can be very cold. Water has no respect for you or your job, and goes where it wants. You can't yell and drown at the same time.
While he floundered about in all of four or five feet of water, I stepped right back into the face of the other actor. "Is there something you want? Something you have to say? No? Then shut up, pull that idiot out and shut HIM up, and then get back to work."
That unfortunately was where I woke up, with an odd sense of both accomplishment and sadness. The sadness was because my costumes were REALLY good, and I don't actually own any of them. Rats. At least now I know what to wear for Halloween.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Monday, March 31, 2014
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Wind and the Lion... my version.
Much better waking up after this one than the last .... ^..^
I am struggling through a series of narrow passages inside an Egyptian temple of massive proportions. Luxor and Karnak combined at the height of Egypt's empire, and connected to tombs and chambers like those of the Valley of the Kings. I am following my friend, guide and mentor; the Great Raisuli (yeah, it's Sean Connery).....
We have been on a raid into this temple, trying to capture or kill an evil magus who has usurped the crown of Egypt. He is a cross between Ernst Stavro Blofeld from the Bond films, Fu Manchu, and the magus from the John Fowles novel. If he doesn't actually have magical powers, he is a superb manipulator and illusionist.
Unfortunately the hunters have become the hunted; our small group of followers have been killed or cut off from us, and the pursuit is not only hot on our trail, but are obviously trying to drive us in a particular direction. In a sudden ambush Sean and I are able to break out of the closing net, and after narrowly avoiding several traps, we race towards a possible escape. By now we are down to practically nothing in terms of weapons. I am carrying a long knife, and Sean has the short remainder of his broken sword, now barely more than a dagger itself. Our guns have long since run out of ammo, used as clubs and hammers for a while, then finally discarded.
The escape route is an illusion however; a final trap, if not the one intended. Our foe appears just moments after we have dodged into a small chamber with a narrow window to the outer world, and bars have dropped behind us. He comes up with a small guard force, and takes some time to gloat over our impending death. While he can't easily get to us through the bars, and admits he may not even know how to reset them, he laughs because we have left ourselves only two exits; through a huge labyrinth that he has never explored fully, and that none of his teams have ever come out of, or out a small doorway further along, with a drop down a sheer wall of some 60 or 70 feet, to a vast section of desert patrolled by lions and other things. He gleefully says goodbye, and closes the outer doors.
With no other choice we enter the even narrower passage into the labyrinth. As we pass one huge block of stone it slides from the side wall, closing off the route back except for a small slot 3 or 4 inches wide at the top. The channel shows both the wear and tear of water or some other liquid rushing down it at great force, as well as char marks; I don't really like to think about the options that represents. Quickly we move down the corridor, and perhaps 50 feet along we can see a pair of small doors that open outwards.
With a lot of effort we force them open. Sure enough, the drop to the ground is a long one, and we can see numerous lionesses lounging in the shade of the tall facade. Rolling desert and light veldt stretch off for miles in around, and leaning out we can see that the building is met by a wall of equal height running off as far as we can see in either direction. Perhaps 8 to 10 miles off we can see what might be a low line of bushes and scattered trees. Well away from the wall in a weirdly ordered pile what appears to be clothing of various styles is lying. As we look out we can also see that piled up against the wall between the lions and the area directly below us, another mound has grown. This looks like a heap of torn and shredded cloth, rotting corpses, and animal dung. From the direction of the possible tree line, we can now hear an elephant's call.
There is another sound, something moving about behind us. Sean declares that one of us must try to escape outside, while the other braves the labyrinth alone. He grabs my arms, lowering me as far as he can out the doorway. I begin swinging and running along the wall, trying to throw myself towards the hopefully softer pile of refuse, even though that will put me close to the now watchful lionesses. Even hanging as low as I am, a straight drop would break if not shatter both legs. With one final swing I let go of Sean's wrists and sail out towards the pile. To my surprise, I land perfectly near the top, blasting it away from me into the face of a lioness charging towards me, and rolling back down the side I come up on my feet, knife out in front of me, just in time to catch a second lion leaping at me. She dies on the blade and knocks me into the wall as her corpse butts into me. There at my feet I can see a gold and black .45 automatic; without pause I grab the gun in my left hand, jack the slide and see at least one round, and fire into the other lionesses who are now racing along the ground. Two of them drop, and the rest run away from the gunfire, stopping well out of easy range. There they sit and watch me.
Looking about I can now see other weapons scattered about, and belts still holding clips and ammo pouches, even a few packs. Shouting back at Sean I tell him to wait, and I quickly gather up two more automatics, and nearly a dozen full clips. I run back and begin throwing them up to him, with rather remarkable success. Just in time also it seems, as no sooner has he loaded the first weapon than he spins and fires three times back into the corridor somewhere. I'm yelling at him to hold on, while I try to drag over as much of the pile as I can so he can try jumping as well. He yells back that there's no time, and fires again back into the labyrinth.
All the shooting has roused something else as well; from behind what must be some obscuring low dunes a dozen or more ragged men and women are approaching, armed with a collection of broken spears, makeshift clubs, and one or two knives. I'm about to fire on them when I realize that they aren't going to attack, but are coming forward to help me, and to drive the lions off or at least keep them at bay. I shout instructions to them to carry everything they can over to a spot below the wall as fast as they can run, set up three men who show that they know how to use the guns and rifles we are starting to find to hold off any attack, and then I dive in and start lugging clothes. Within what seems like less than two minutes I have a pile almost 20 feet around and 10 high, and I yell at Sean to jump. He spins about and empties both guns as he throws himself backwards out the window. Whatever the hell is in there, he wants to make sure it can't come out after him, and breaking his neck or his back is apparently better than the alternative. As he falls towards the pile of clothes something huge and dark fills the small doorway and blocks it. It is covered in what might be a mix of feathers and fur, with scales underneath; it is also so large that all I am seeing is part of a limb and it's side, shoulder, or hip. Sean crashes into the pile and rebounds off the side much as I did; but other than "a bruised dignity perhaps" he says he is unhurt.
Now we have a bit of peace and relative safety. Sean and I quickly discover that the rag-tag band of 16 men and women are mostly survivors of our enemy's "exploration teams". Victims he has had driven into the labyrinth to either kill them or see if they make it out. A few are from expeditions led to assault the temple, as far back as 30 years ago. As we begin to search the huge pile of clothes we had used to build the mound, I see that what we have looks like the costume trailers for a dozen Hollywood costume dramas have been looted and dumped here. There are dozens of cavalry officers uniforms, including hats, boots, and even sabers; Roman Legion tunics of wool or coarse linen, along with full sets of what turn out to be very ornate gold plated Lorica; Civil War uniforms, and even French Foreign Legion gear. Scattered about underneath is an assortment of rifles, swords, handguns, and best of all crates of ammunition. Quick examination shows that none of the ammo are blanks, and all of the clothing etc. appears to be nearly new. No one can explain how it got there or why; the only possible clue comes when a pair of good horse drawn wagons are found amidst the wreckage of several others, behind another set of dunes. Any horses that might have been used have long since been taken away, or perhaps eaten by the lions. None of the survivors had ever realized there might be usable weapons there; since most of them arrived alone, they had fled the lions, often losing several others in the process. Even with 16 of them together none had felt safe trying to come back and look, until they heard our gunshots.
We rapidly get our tiny army re-clothed and armed, and barring some language barriers establish at least the start of a plan. There is no way to get back up to the still open but now blocked doorway Sean and I had leapt from; there is also no obvious gap or opening in the wall in either direction, and none of our little band know if there is water or shelter beyond what is indeed a narrow belt of light forest. No one there has ever gone beyond the forest, as the other side reveals only more hot and arid veldt. We load up the carts with the remaining weapons and ammo, including a half dozen really fancy but very functional recurve bows, with nearly 1000 aluminum shafted hunting arrows at a rough count. The mix of modern and ancient has me truly baffled; but I'm not going to look too closely at the largesse. On a whim I load up as much of the (Clothing? Costumes?) as we can haul with ease as well. I figure we can try selling the stuff or trading it if we ever reach anything besides more wall.... finally, we skin and dress the dead lions, and fill every container we have with water from a clear but tiny stream that runs nearby. With no really good choices, we agree to head north along the path of the huge wall, well away from it while still keeping it visible to scouts on our flank. It seems the best choice, as in theory going north should eventually run us into the Mediterranean. Hopefully the damn wall ends long before that, and we can find a village, or nomads, anything and anyone that are not in league with our overly cunning enemy. I look at our tiny troop; some have dressed in the gear most like what they wore originally; some have dressed for comfort, some for style, some for safety. I have one guy wearing a pair of Foreign Legion white pants, tall Confederate cavalry boots, a loose white lined tunic with a Roman Lorica breastplate over it, a pair of bracers, and a cocky cavalry hat with a feather in it. He has a sword on one hip, a long rifle like a Martini-Henry or Enfield slung over his shoulder, and a .45 Colt revolver on his other hip. He might well drop from exhaustion, but at least he feels safe.... and actually looks sort of stylish. Sean has somehow found what looks like Bedouin dress, with a robe, tunic and baggy pants of linen, and a keffiya and headband. I am wearing a rather eclectic mix myself; the white Foreign Legion pants with a pair of black boots, a white loose cavalry shirt with an open black officers coat, and a black cavalry hat with a feather as well. Like my oddly clothed comrade I have a sword on my left hip, the gold and black .45 on the other, and a very nice rifle stuck into the side of a cart for ready access. Time to go; we all grab a cart handle, our two scouts fan out to the sides, and we head north. The lionesses are trotting cautiously off to the other side, back towards the carcasses of their former pride mates; possibly to see what we did to them, but more likely to take advantage of the free meal. Waste not, want not.......
I am struggling through a series of narrow passages inside an Egyptian temple of massive proportions. Luxor and Karnak combined at the height of Egypt's empire, and connected to tombs and chambers like those of the Valley of the Kings. I am following my friend, guide and mentor; the Great Raisuli (yeah, it's Sean Connery).....
We have been on a raid into this temple, trying to capture or kill an evil magus who has usurped the crown of Egypt. He is a cross between Ernst Stavro Blofeld from the Bond films, Fu Manchu, and the magus from the John Fowles novel. If he doesn't actually have magical powers, he is a superb manipulator and illusionist.
Unfortunately the hunters have become the hunted; our small group of followers have been killed or cut off from us, and the pursuit is not only hot on our trail, but are obviously trying to drive us in a particular direction. In a sudden ambush Sean and I are able to break out of the closing net, and after narrowly avoiding several traps, we race towards a possible escape. By now we are down to practically nothing in terms of weapons. I am carrying a long knife, and Sean has the short remainder of his broken sword, now barely more than a dagger itself. Our guns have long since run out of ammo, used as clubs and hammers for a while, then finally discarded.
The escape route is an illusion however; a final trap, if not the one intended. Our foe appears just moments after we have dodged into a small chamber with a narrow window to the outer world, and bars have dropped behind us. He comes up with a small guard force, and takes some time to gloat over our impending death. While he can't easily get to us through the bars, and admits he may not even know how to reset them, he laughs because we have left ourselves only two exits; through a huge labyrinth that he has never explored fully, and that none of his teams have ever come out of, or out a small doorway further along, with a drop down a sheer wall of some 60 or 70 feet, to a vast section of desert patrolled by lions and other things. He gleefully says goodbye, and closes the outer doors.
With no other choice we enter the even narrower passage into the labyrinth. As we pass one huge block of stone it slides from the side wall, closing off the route back except for a small slot 3 or 4 inches wide at the top. The channel shows both the wear and tear of water or some other liquid rushing down it at great force, as well as char marks; I don't really like to think about the options that represents. Quickly we move down the corridor, and perhaps 50 feet along we can see a pair of small doors that open outwards.
With a lot of effort we force them open. Sure enough, the drop to the ground is a long one, and we can see numerous lionesses lounging in the shade of the tall facade. Rolling desert and light veldt stretch off for miles in around, and leaning out we can see that the building is met by a wall of equal height running off as far as we can see in either direction. Perhaps 8 to 10 miles off we can see what might be a low line of bushes and scattered trees. Well away from the wall in a weirdly ordered pile what appears to be clothing of various styles is lying. As we look out we can also see that piled up against the wall between the lions and the area directly below us, another mound has grown. This looks like a heap of torn and shredded cloth, rotting corpses, and animal dung. From the direction of the possible tree line, we can now hear an elephant's call.
There is another sound, something moving about behind us. Sean declares that one of us must try to escape outside, while the other braves the labyrinth alone. He grabs my arms, lowering me as far as he can out the doorway. I begin swinging and running along the wall, trying to throw myself towards the hopefully softer pile of refuse, even though that will put me close to the now watchful lionesses. Even hanging as low as I am, a straight drop would break if not shatter both legs. With one final swing I let go of Sean's wrists and sail out towards the pile. To my surprise, I land perfectly near the top, blasting it away from me into the face of a lioness charging towards me, and rolling back down the side I come up on my feet, knife out in front of me, just in time to catch a second lion leaping at me. She dies on the blade and knocks me into the wall as her corpse butts into me. There at my feet I can see a gold and black .45 automatic; without pause I grab the gun in my left hand, jack the slide and see at least one round, and fire into the other lionesses who are now racing along the ground. Two of them drop, and the rest run away from the gunfire, stopping well out of easy range. There they sit and watch me.
Looking about I can now see other weapons scattered about, and belts still holding clips and ammo pouches, even a few packs. Shouting back at Sean I tell him to wait, and I quickly gather up two more automatics, and nearly a dozen full clips. I run back and begin throwing them up to him, with rather remarkable success. Just in time also it seems, as no sooner has he loaded the first weapon than he spins and fires three times back into the corridor somewhere. I'm yelling at him to hold on, while I try to drag over as much of the pile as I can so he can try jumping as well. He yells back that there's no time, and fires again back into the labyrinth.
All the shooting has roused something else as well; from behind what must be some obscuring low dunes a dozen or more ragged men and women are approaching, armed with a collection of broken spears, makeshift clubs, and one or two knives. I'm about to fire on them when I realize that they aren't going to attack, but are coming forward to help me, and to drive the lions off or at least keep them at bay. I shout instructions to them to carry everything they can over to a spot below the wall as fast as they can run, set up three men who show that they know how to use the guns and rifles we are starting to find to hold off any attack, and then I dive in and start lugging clothes. Within what seems like less than two minutes I have a pile almost 20 feet around and 10 high, and I yell at Sean to jump. He spins about and empties both guns as he throws himself backwards out the window. Whatever the hell is in there, he wants to make sure it can't come out after him, and breaking his neck or his back is apparently better than the alternative. As he falls towards the pile of clothes something huge and dark fills the small doorway and blocks it. It is covered in what might be a mix of feathers and fur, with scales underneath; it is also so large that all I am seeing is part of a limb and it's side, shoulder, or hip. Sean crashes into the pile and rebounds off the side much as I did; but other than "a bruised dignity perhaps" he says he is unhurt.
Now we have a bit of peace and relative safety. Sean and I quickly discover that the rag-tag band of 16 men and women are mostly survivors of our enemy's "exploration teams". Victims he has had driven into the labyrinth to either kill them or see if they make it out. A few are from expeditions led to assault the temple, as far back as 30 years ago. As we begin to search the huge pile of clothes we had used to build the mound, I see that what we have looks like the costume trailers for a dozen Hollywood costume dramas have been looted and dumped here. There are dozens of cavalry officers uniforms, including hats, boots, and even sabers; Roman Legion tunics of wool or coarse linen, along with full sets of what turn out to be very ornate gold plated Lorica; Civil War uniforms, and even French Foreign Legion gear. Scattered about underneath is an assortment of rifles, swords, handguns, and best of all crates of ammunition. Quick examination shows that none of the ammo are blanks, and all of the clothing etc. appears to be nearly new. No one can explain how it got there or why; the only possible clue comes when a pair of good horse drawn wagons are found amidst the wreckage of several others, behind another set of dunes. Any horses that might have been used have long since been taken away, or perhaps eaten by the lions. None of the survivors had ever realized there might be usable weapons there; since most of them arrived alone, they had fled the lions, often losing several others in the process. Even with 16 of them together none had felt safe trying to come back and look, until they heard our gunshots.
We rapidly get our tiny army re-clothed and armed, and barring some language barriers establish at least the start of a plan. There is no way to get back up to the still open but now blocked doorway Sean and I had leapt from; there is also no obvious gap or opening in the wall in either direction, and none of our little band know if there is water or shelter beyond what is indeed a narrow belt of light forest. No one there has ever gone beyond the forest, as the other side reveals only more hot and arid veldt. We load up the carts with the remaining weapons and ammo, including a half dozen really fancy but very functional recurve bows, with nearly 1000 aluminum shafted hunting arrows at a rough count. The mix of modern and ancient has me truly baffled; but I'm not going to look too closely at the largesse. On a whim I load up as much of the (Clothing? Costumes?) as we can haul with ease as well. I figure we can try selling the stuff or trading it if we ever reach anything besides more wall.... finally, we skin and dress the dead lions, and fill every container we have with water from a clear but tiny stream that runs nearby. With no really good choices, we agree to head north along the path of the huge wall, well away from it while still keeping it visible to scouts on our flank. It seems the best choice, as in theory going north should eventually run us into the Mediterranean. Hopefully the damn wall ends long before that, and we can find a village, or nomads, anything and anyone that are not in league with our overly cunning enemy. I look at our tiny troop; some have dressed in the gear most like what they wore originally; some have dressed for comfort, some for style, some for safety. I have one guy wearing a pair of Foreign Legion white pants, tall Confederate cavalry boots, a loose white lined tunic with a Roman Lorica breastplate over it, a pair of bracers, and a cocky cavalry hat with a feather in it. He has a sword on one hip, a long rifle like a Martini-Henry or Enfield slung over his shoulder, and a .45 Colt revolver on his other hip. He might well drop from exhaustion, but at least he feels safe.... and actually looks sort of stylish. Sean has somehow found what looks like Bedouin dress, with a robe, tunic and baggy pants of linen, and a keffiya and headband. I am wearing a rather eclectic mix myself; the white Foreign Legion pants with a pair of black boots, a white loose cavalry shirt with an open black officers coat, and a black cavalry hat with a feather as well. Like my oddly clothed comrade I have a sword on my left hip, the gold and black .45 on the other, and a very nice rifle stuck into the side of a cart for ready access. Time to go; we all grab a cart handle, our two scouts fan out to the sides, and we head north. The lionesses are trotting cautiously off to the other side, back towards the carcasses of their former pride mates; possibly to see what we did to them, but more likely to take advantage of the free meal. Waste not, want not.......
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Analyze this....
So somewhere out there are people who still claim to be able to analyze dreams. I have read two books on the subject... OK, that's a half truth. I read parts of two books on the subject. I quit both times, because they were utter crap, at least where I was concerned. Not one of them had any mention or section on turning into a werewolf..... ort a 30 foot tall winged demon. Neither discussed the deep meaning of having lunch in a railcar-turned-diner filled with ghosts. At no point did they discuss being Angelina Jolie in a fantasy film about Luck Dragons and Chimera..... these are not excerpts from nightmares, by the way. These are just snippets of these unusual epic dreams I have. I get nightmares also, but they tend to run along the same lines. Two hour epics that might actually make great films, if they had more damn continuity.
This morning however I woke up from what has to rank among one of my oddest. Not because I was changing gender, or species, but because it actually had a structure.... if I had eaten some magic mushrooms and wandered around Wonderland, maybe....
It began with me meeting my friend Kimi at a huge mall, like Stanford Shopping Center. We were going to have drinks and lunch at this new trendy bar and grill. Sitting at the bar, I was fascinated by the behavior of the two waitresses. One of them seemed to be flashing customers randomly, both men and women; the other, a small blonde woman, was making the simple act of picking up empty drinks a twenty second seduction. I pointed this out to Kimi quietly, to have her watch as the blonde girl picked up an unwanted beer from my friend Elayne, who was suddenly there as well. As the waitress reached for the beer, she slowly slipped two fingers inside the glass, then made a little gasp as if surprised. Looking right at Elayne, she then put both fingers in her mouth to lick the beer off.
She took the glass and twirled away, walking back in my direction, smiling at me and winking. As she passed behind me she looked over her shoulder; then she poured the rest of the glass (quite a lot, actually) over my head. I sat there in my favorite suit, a tailored black silk one (yes, I own suits. Yes, one of them is tailored black silk from Japan.) Several people were making comments and waiting to see what I would do. For a moment I made jokes about beer being good for hair, and how nice it was to smell like yeast; then I got up and confronted the blonde girl. To my annoyance she not only had no reason for dousing me, but was angry at me for being upset by being wet and reeking of beer. When I demanded to speak to the owner or the manager she actually called me a stuffy fuck.
I moved to the back of the place, which looked more like a corporate lobby. The secretary seated there rushed about (secretary??), brought me a business card for the owner, and brought over an assistant Customer Support person... in a BAR? Meanwhile the crazy waitress was continuing to yell at me. Kimi was watching in shock, and Elayne looked more and more concerned as I visibly lost my slightly amused detachment at the incident and got angrier and angrier. What began as "I want my suit cleaned and an apology" was now "I want my suit cleaned, an apology, my hair washed and combed, a free meal, and you fired" because the waitress wouldn't shut up. I finally had enough, and as I left the waitress got right in my face. I looked at her and said "What exactly do you think you are doing?" She punched me in the mouth three times. Fairly hard. Hard enough, in fact, to knock out a tooth or two and chip some more.
Everyone froze in place as I picked out the bits of teeth and looked at them. With a now rather lop-sided grin I said "Thanks. I think you pretty much just gave me half ownership of the place on a platter." The Customer Service girl and the secretary grabbed the soon to be fired waitress and tossed her on the ground, as Kimi and I walked out. Elayne was either still inside, or had left already.
Kimi was walking out to my car with me, asking if I was OK and apologizing for choosing the place, as I put my bits of teeth in a pocket and poked about at the now vacant areas of my gums. It ached, and I had a fat lip, but nowhere near the amount of pain one might associate with broken teeth... and I was back to amused.
That is until we got to the far side of the parking structure. I was parked on the third tier, near an edge, and for some reason a helicopter had landed half way on the railing, getting the landing struts caught in the side rail and pulling it free. Below on the ground (about fifty feet) was some weird sort of flatbed/crane combo, hooked to the helicopter. Just sitting there, no one operating it, like the driver had said "Oops, lunch break. Back in 30 minutes!" and walked off. Sigh. Union Journeymen....
Naturally I had to take a closer look and see if this was being done correctly. Kimi was fascinated, and announced "I've never gotten to be in a helicopter before!" She scrambled over the broken concrete and the rail, and hopped inside the pilot area of the helicopter. Umm, yeah. Right. OK then.... "Kimi! What the hell are you doing?" She laughed and said "Oh ni-san, you always do things like this.." then yelled as the whole thing slid off and tilted forward, almost dumping her to the ground still some forty feet below her.
A crowd assembled instantly to "ooh" and "ahh" as I looked around for a way to get her out. As I leaned over the railing two men walked up to the... tow truck? ... whatever.... then began to rock it violently. One of them was Dr. Martin Luther King. No one seems at all surprised to see him there. I raced down some magically convenient stairs, just in time to see that the rocking has caused the helicopter to tip slowly forward and down, and dropped Kimi a much safer six to eight feet. Into a shrubbery arrangement that surrounds a small cemetery for victims of AIDS. I helped Kimi up as she brushed off her clothes, and Dr. King nodded solemnly to me and walked off.
We left in separate cars, but went to my house (my actual one) in order to clean up. Kimi seemed to be very flustered, while I am only damp and slightly embarrassed over the condition of the house. It's not dirty, but it was absurdly cluttered in the back. This was because I was not only sleeping in one room (my real bedroom) next to my home office (also real), I was using them for temporary storage to help some friends.
More specifically, the costume departments for TheatreWorks and Wilcox Stage Company. The office was filled around three walls with an assortment of small boxes, all over-packed with shoes, shirts, dresses, belts... my room was a bit less cluttered, but I had been in the process of emptying and sorting two boxes, the contents of which are lying on my bed, my armchair, the TV.... and around the walls are numerous hats hanging alongside my own. Teanca's witch hat from "Maskerade" hangs alongside my RenFaire hat; Emily's was hanging on the peg with my Mardi Gras hat. On a number of new pegs (hey, where did my dresser go???) are hats from "Suessical the Musical" including a big Cat in the Hat hat.
I was trying to do two things at once. Get my wet suit off, and straighten my room. Neither was really going very well. In the midst of adding a third task, putting dry clothes on, there was a knock at the door followed by someone opening it into me. Two women were there, bowing and apologizing and trying to come in, to give me my compensation for the earlier soaking and punches. In my haste I pulled on a rather bizarre smoking jacket instead of my robe, and the damn thing wouldn't close in front. I eventually gave up on holding the door while trying to dress and clean, and the women came all the way in, trailed by my brother and Kimi.
They seemed fascinated by all the clutter, and kept trying to pick things up and look at them as I explained why I had them. They are like small monkeys or little kids; as soon as I got one thing away, they picked up another. I was not really annoyed, just... puzzled and frustrated. Then I heard a whole lot of barking and yowling from the front of the house. These two women had also brought in their dogs, all of whom seemed to know me and love me. The problem was that there are about five of them, all fairly large... and our cat was freaking out, even though the dogs were paying her no attention.
The dogs were now fawning all over me, and I was petting them and trying to calm them all down. I'd given up on the robe completely, and only had on a t-shirt, underwear... and socks. Socks? I took time to put socks on? The cat was now outside, and seeing me petting other things had infuriated her. She was howling and scratching the sliding glass door, when a large squirrel ran up next to her. It was carrying a tiny rectangle of paper on which someone (probably not the squirrel, but who knows?) had written "Help Me!" The squirrel waved the paper frantically, rather like it was taped to its paw, then struck a weird pointing pose while standing on its back legs. The cat yowled at the squirrel, the squirrel darted away, and Kimi and my brother started shooing the dogs out.
This gave the two nutty ladies a chance to make a formal presentation to me of the settlement being offered; a $300,000.00 check... and a gift certificate for a free dinner and drinks for two. I didn't really have time to mull over the absurdity of this, as I had a cat to deal with. She was now hiding in the garden and I had to partially dig her out from under my Artichokes. Kimi had now vanished, because the women discovered she is wearing a garter belt with no underwear, and kept pulling her skirt up to try and get a look and some pictures. Apparently this might have made them revoke the gift certificate, as Kimi's racy lingerie was possibly what sparked the beer dunking. What?
My brother was now fully engaged with shoving them and the dogs out the front door, where a news team had gathered to interview us all. I managed to recover the bathrobe, primarily to protect myself from the still angry and struggling cat I was now carrying. I stood in the front door and watched as my brother chased off dogs, women, news teams and the squirrel by swinging our marble topped coffee table at them like a giant swatter.
I woke up from that at six thirty this morning. After a few moments of sitting there in baffled thought, I got up. No way was I going to try going back to sleep. I might have found myself actually using the gift certificate.
Meaning? to that dream? I don't think so. Oh, sure, you can say it's an expression of stress and frustration, or uncertainty... but you might also just as well say that dreaming about a rooster means I am dreaming about success. It could also mean I am worried about being dinner, don't you think? Analyze THAT Sigmund...
This morning however I woke up from what has to rank among one of my oddest. Not because I was changing gender, or species, but because it actually had a structure.... if I had eaten some magic mushrooms and wandered around Wonderland, maybe....
It began with me meeting my friend Kimi at a huge mall, like Stanford Shopping Center. We were going to have drinks and lunch at this new trendy bar and grill. Sitting at the bar, I was fascinated by the behavior of the two waitresses. One of them seemed to be flashing customers randomly, both men and women; the other, a small blonde woman, was making the simple act of picking up empty drinks a twenty second seduction. I pointed this out to Kimi quietly, to have her watch as the blonde girl picked up an unwanted beer from my friend Elayne, who was suddenly there as well. As the waitress reached for the beer, she slowly slipped two fingers inside the glass, then made a little gasp as if surprised. Looking right at Elayne, she then put both fingers in her mouth to lick the beer off.
She took the glass and twirled away, walking back in my direction, smiling at me and winking. As she passed behind me she looked over her shoulder; then she poured the rest of the glass (quite a lot, actually) over my head. I sat there in my favorite suit, a tailored black silk one (yes, I own suits. Yes, one of them is tailored black silk from Japan.) Several people were making comments and waiting to see what I would do. For a moment I made jokes about beer being good for hair, and how nice it was to smell like yeast; then I got up and confronted the blonde girl. To my annoyance she not only had no reason for dousing me, but was angry at me for being upset by being wet and reeking of beer. When I demanded to speak to the owner or the manager she actually called me a stuffy fuck.
I moved to the back of the place, which looked more like a corporate lobby. The secretary seated there rushed about (secretary??), brought me a business card for the owner, and brought over an assistant Customer Support person... in a BAR? Meanwhile the crazy waitress was continuing to yell at me. Kimi was watching in shock, and Elayne looked more and more concerned as I visibly lost my slightly amused detachment at the incident and got angrier and angrier. What began as "I want my suit cleaned and an apology" was now "I want my suit cleaned, an apology, my hair washed and combed, a free meal, and you fired" because the waitress wouldn't shut up. I finally had enough, and as I left the waitress got right in my face. I looked at her and said "What exactly do you think you are doing?" She punched me in the mouth three times. Fairly hard. Hard enough, in fact, to knock out a tooth or two and chip some more.
Everyone froze in place as I picked out the bits of teeth and looked at them. With a now rather lop-sided grin I said "Thanks. I think you pretty much just gave me half ownership of the place on a platter." The Customer Service girl and the secretary grabbed the soon to be fired waitress and tossed her on the ground, as Kimi and I walked out. Elayne was either still inside, or had left already.
Kimi was walking out to my car with me, asking if I was OK and apologizing for choosing the place, as I put my bits of teeth in a pocket and poked about at the now vacant areas of my gums. It ached, and I had a fat lip, but nowhere near the amount of pain one might associate with broken teeth... and I was back to amused.
That is until we got to the far side of the parking structure. I was parked on the third tier, near an edge, and for some reason a helicopter had landed half way on the railing, getting the landing struts caught in the side rail and pulling it free. Below on the ground (about fifty feet) was some weird sort of flatbed/crane combo, hooked to the helicopter. Just sitting there, no one operating it, like the driver had said "Oops, lunch break. Back in 30 minutes!" and walked off. Sigh. Union Journeymen....
Naturally I had to take a closer look and see if this was being done correctly. Kimi was fascinated, and announced "I've never gotten to be in a helicopter before!" She scrambled over the broken concrete and the rail, and hopped inside the pilot area of the helicopter. Umm, yeah. Right. OK then.... "Kimi! What the hell are you doing?" She laughed and said "Oh ni-san, you always do things like this.." then yelled as the whole thing slid off and tilted forward, almost dumping her to the ground still some forty feet below her.
A crowd assembled instantly to "ooh" and "ahh" as I looked around for a way to get her out. As I leaned over the railing two men walked up to the... tow truck? ... whatever.... then began to rock it violently. One of them was Dr. Martin Luther King. No one seems at all surprised to see him there. I raced down some magically convenient stairs, just in time to see that the rocking has caused the helicopter to tip slowly forward and down, and dropped Kimi a much safer six to eight feet. Into a shrubbery arrangement that surrounds a small cemetery for victims of AIDS. I helped Kimi up as she brushed off her clothes, and Dr. King nodded solemnly to me and walked off.
We left in separate cars, but went to my house (my actual one) in order to clean up. Kimi seemed to be very flustered, while I am only damp and slightly embarrassed over the condition of the house. It's not dirty, but it was absurdly cluttered in the back. This was because I was not only sleeping in one room (my real bedroom) next to my home office (also real), I was using them for temporary storage to help some friends.
More specifically, the costume departments for TheatreWorks and Wilcox Stage Company. The office was filled around three walls with an assortment of small boxes, all over-packed with shoes, shirts, dresses, belts... my room was a bit less cluttered, but I had been in the process of emptying and sorting two boxes, the contents of which are lying on my bed, my armchair, the TV.... and around the walls are numerous hats hanging alongside my own. Teanca's witch hat from "Maskerade" hangs alongside my RenFaire hat; Emily's was hanging on the peg with my Mardi Gras hat. On a number of new pegs (hey, where did my dresser go???) are hats from "Suessical the Musical" including a big Cat in the Hat hat.
I was trying to do two things at once. Get my wet suit off, and straighten my room. Neither was really going very well. In the midst of adding a third task, putting dry clothes on, there was a knock at the door followed by someone opening it into me. Two women were there, bowing and apologizing and trying to come in, to give me my compensation for the earlier soaking and punches. In my haste I pulled on a rather bizarre smoking jacket instead of my robe, and the damn thing wouldn't close in front. I eventually gave up on holding the door while trying to dress and clean, and the women came all the way in, trailed by my brother and Kimi.
They seemed fascinated by all the clutter, and kept trying to pick things up and look at them as I explained why I had them. They are like small monkeys or little kids; as soon as I got one thing away, they picked up another. I was not really annoyed, just... puzzled and frustrated. Then I heard a whole lot of barking and yowling from the front of the house. These two women had also brought in their dogs, all of whom seemed to know me and love me. The problem was that there are about five of them, all fairly large... and our cat was freaking out, even though the dogs were paying her no attention.
The dogs were now fawning all over me, and I was petting them and trying to calm them all down. I'd given up on the robe completely, and only had on a t-shirt, underwear... and socks. Socks? I took time to put socks on? The cat was now outside, and seeing me petting other things had infuriated her. She was howling and scratching the sliding glass door, when a large squirrel ran up next to her. It was carrying a tiny rectangle of paper on which someone (probably not the squirrel, but who knows?) had written "Help Me!" The squirrel waved the paper frantically, rather like it was taped to its paw, then struck a weird pointing pose while standing on its back legs. The cat yowled at the squirrel, the squirrel darted away, and Kimi and my brother started shooing the dogs out.
This gave the two nutty ladies a chance to make a formal presentation to me of the settlement being offered; a $300,000.00 check... and a gift certificate for a free dinner and drinks for two. I didn't really have time to mull over the absurdity of this, as I had a cat to deal with. She was now hiding in the garden and I had to partially dig her out from under my Artichokes. Kimi had now vanished, because the women discovered she is wearing a garter belt with no underwear, and kept pulling her skirt up to try and get a look and some pictures. Apparently this might have made them revoke the gift certificate, as Kimi's racy lingerie was possibly what sparked the beer dunking. What?
My brother was now fully engaged with shoving them and the dogs out the front door, where a news team had gathered to interview us all. I managed to recover the bathrobe, primarily to protect myself from the still angry and struggling cat I was now carrying. I stood in the front door and watched as my brother chased off dogs, women, news teams and the squirrel by swinging our marble topped coffee table at them like a giant swatter.
I woke up from that at six thirty this morning. After a few moments of sitting there in baffled thought, I got up. No way was I going to try going back to sleep. I might have found myself actually using the gift certificate.
Meaning? to that dream? I don't think so. Oh, sure, you can say it's an expression of stress and frustration, or uncertainty... but you might also just as well say that dreaming about a rooster means I am dreaming about success. It could also mean I am worried about being dinner, don't you think? Analyze THAT Sigmund...
Saturday, May 1, 2010
The stuff that dreams are made of
This morning I was having a dream about being in Las Vegas with some friends; one of them had passes to watch a sort of Cirque style show from backstage. Someone in the crowd backstage wrote a note and had it passed to me, saying I was too old and not cool enough to watch from backstage. I sent back a note that went something like this:
I have performed on stage since the age of 10, and have been seen by thousands of people. I have been on TV, had my own show, and have been in two feature films. I have been recognized in a store and asked for my autograph. Only 4 times, but still. I am friends with a famous comedian and actor, and he has introduced me to other famous people. I have shaken hands with a president, and I know someone who was a presidential advisor. I have been in a fleet of limousines, and had a doorman hold the door for me as I got out "Hey! That's so-and-so! Hey, that's another famous guy! Hey, that's some random stranger!" I even rented a limo once just to get to the airport.
I have jumped naked from a plane wearing only a parachute, helmet and boots, which I will never do again even if the plane is on fire. I have looked off the edge of a cliff 2000 feet down into a river gorge, and from 120 feet under water looked over the edge of a canyon wall that went down 13,000 feet more. I have flown a light plane to see a girlfriend three times, and sailed a 32 foot boat along the coast of California numerous times. I have ridden horses, both rental trail-horses and privately owned, and have even ridden an elephant. I have ridden a camel to the Great Pyramid of Giza, and out 5 miles into the open desert in Egypt. Once I even rode a sno-disc down a toboggan run, which was moderately stupid. See parachuting.
I have been to Egypt, France, and if you count stopping at the airports in Frankfurt and München then I have been to Germany. I have been to 18 of the states, visiting various cities, and driven through 10 other states. No idea how many I have flown over. I have never been to Alaska or Hawaii, Mexico or Canada; but I have walked down Bourbon Street in New Orleans, along the Patriots Road in Boston, and had a drink in Ben Franklin's favorite tavern. I have been to Puxatawney, and driven behind an Amish wagon on the road. I have stood looking up at the balcony where the Declaration of Independence was read for the first time, and even tried to spend the night in the graveyard in Sleepy Hollow where Washington Irving is buried.
I have had three major surgeries, and one minor; I have broken my arm. I have held a woman and a man in my arms as they died, and have had to let go of five cats when it was time. I have had three of my best friends die; I am fortunate to have known every one, and gladly accept the pain of losing them, for the honor and joy of having known them enough to grieve.
I have loved several women greatly, more quite a bit, and love all my friends a great deal, though I would not kiss many of them (you know who you are guys... ). I have also had my heart broken several times. That also was worth it, as the love still lasts. Well, except for two (and yeah, you know who you are too...). I have over 200 friends on Facebook, and can honestly say that not only do I know their names, I know almost every one well enough to call on the phone, stop by for a visit, or buy a drink in a bar. Most of them would buy me one as well.
I finished the note "What have YOU got?"
I consider the above to be a good start; I still have many, many things to do and see. I have not cruised 1000 feet below the surface of the ocean, or ridden even deeper with James Cameron; I have not gone scuba diving in Hawaii, Mexico, or Australia. I have not played in the open ocean with a dolphin, though I did get all three in the petting/feeding pool at Sea World to start doing tricks. I almost managed to talk the staff into letting me get in with them after hours. I have not yet said "will you marry me", though I planned to, twice, nor had the chance to say "Well, yeah, I'm here aren't I?" ( "I do" seems so stiff and abrupt...). I have not held my own child in my arms, nor seen them learn, and fall, and rise again, though I still hope to one day. That would be a great adventure.
I have stood gazing up at the moon, the planets and the stars; but I have yet to sail the seas of space. That would be an adventure too. I even know my first course to lay in: Second star to the right, and straight on until morning.
I have performed on stage since the age of 10, and have been seen by thousands of people. I have been on TV, had my own show, and have been in two feature films. I have been recognized in a store and asked for my autograph. Only 4 times, but still. I am friends with a famous comedian and actor, and he has introduced me to other famous people. I have shaken hands with a president, and I know someone who was a presidential advisor. I have been in a fleet of limousines, and had a doorman hold the door for me as I got out "Hey! That's so-and-so! Hey, that's another famous guy! Hey, that's some random stranger!" I even rented a limo once just to get to the airport.
I have jumped naked from a plane wearing only a parachute, helmet and boots, which I will never do again even if the plane is on fire. I have looked off the edge of a cliff 2000 feet down into a river gorge, and from 120 feet under water looked over the edge of a canyon wall that went down 13,000 feet more. I have flown a light plane to see a girlfriend three times, and sailed a 32 foot boat along the coast of California numerous times. I have ridden horses, both rental trail-horses and privately owned, and have even ridden an elephant. I have ridden a camel to the Great Pyramid of Giza, and out 5 miles into the open desert in Egypt. Once I even rode a sno-disc down a toboggan run, which was moderately stupid. See parachuting.
I have been to Egypt, France, and if you count stopping at the airports in Frankfurt and München then I have been to Germany. I have been to 18 of the states, visiting various cities, and driven through 10 other states. No idea how many I have flown over. I have never been to Alaska or Hawaii, Mexico or Canada; but I have walked down Bourbon Street in New Orleans, along the Patriots Road in Boston, and had a drink in Ben Franklin's favorite tavern. I have been to Puxatawney, and driven behind an Amish wagon on the road. I have stood looking up at the balcony where the Declaration of Independence was read for the first time, and even tried to spend the night in the graveyard in Sleepy Hollow where Washington Irving is buried.
I have had three major surgeries, and one minor; I have broken my arm. I have held a woman and a man in my arms as they died, and have had to let go of five cats when it was time. I have had three of my best friends die; I am fortunate to have known every one, and gladly accept the pain of losing them, for the honor and joy of having known them enough to grieve.
I have loved several women greatly, more quite a bit, and love all my friends a great deal, though I would not kiss many of them (you know who you are guys... ). I have also had my heart broken several times. That also was worth it, as the love still lasts. Well, except for two (and yeah, you know who you are too...). I have over 200 friends on Facebook, and can honestly say that not only do I know their names, I know almost every one well enough to call on the phone, stop by for a visit, or buy a drink in a bar. Most of them would buy me one as well.
I finished the note "What have YOU got?"
I consider the above to be a good start; I still have many, many things to do and see. I have not cruised 1000 feet below the surface of the ocean, or ridden even deeper with James Cameron; I have not gone scuba diving in Hawaii, Mexico, or Australia. I have not played in the open ocean with a dolphin, though I did get all three in the petting/feeding pool at Sea World to start doing tricks. I almost managed to talk the staff into letting me get in with them after hours. I have not yet said "will you marry me", though I planned to, twice, nor had the chance to say "Well, yeah, I'm here aren't I?" ( "I do" seems so stiff and abrupt...). I have not held my own child in my arms, nor seen them learn, and fall, and rise again, though I still hope to one day. That would be a great adventure.
I have stood gazing up at the moon, the planets and the stars; but I have yet to sail the seas of space. That would be an adventure too. I even know my first course to lay in: Second star to the right, and straight on until morning.
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