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dream.20020802: beyond ultraworld orbital

by Rob Friesel

posted way after the fact:

I knew something was horribly wrong because of all the rope. More specifically, it was the rapelling and the rope. The part that was supposed to be training came in dream-like flashes within the dream. (Meta-dreaming? I don’t know.) Tom Ridge featured all too prominently in those early flashing portions. Almost as if his face (pallid and puffy as it already is) began to morph into that of a certain oil tycoon VP with every heavy breath. Then back again. However, since he came only in flashes, he was not the crux. More rapelling was where the fluid part of the dream superceded the previous broken flashes. Like giddy teardrops down floss, myself and a few others — a crack(ed?) team of special agents — did drop, Army Ranger rapelling style, our targets found and us prepared(?) to strike. Fear was in my heart. Well, adrenaline was in my heart and my amygdala was pinging *FEAR*FEAR*FEAR* away in my brain. (Fear being easily confused neurochemically w/ excitation — basically IS excitation but that’s another post altogether) Uzi(?) in hand did I seek my quarry. I seem to recall the urgent orders of my commanding officer and the grim feelings of apathy I was confronted with. Then confronted about. But this was not me somehow and even as I raced through the high-ceilinged room, Uzi(?) in hand and too much aware of the warehouse-esque atmosphere, I knew from some spot just above the kidneys and fanning outward that everything would be OK. Acutely aware was I of two things. First, the dream. Second, the mission. And so, since it was a dream I could complete my mission, even if (and perhaps because) I was not myself. And so I spotted my quarry. Front and center, weapon pointed (this was to be an assassination, wasn’t it?), I had him. And everything fell in according to the mission’s parameters. It was Alex Patterson masquerading as Lonnie Fisher. However, closer inspection revealed it was Lonnie Fisher masquerading as Paul Hartnoll. I had to let him go.

currently playing: Underworld “Cups”

About Rob Friesel

Software engineer by day, science fiction writer by night. Author of The PhantomJS Cookbook and a short story in Please Do Not Remove. View all posts by Rob Friesel →

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