Do you ever remember your dreams? I often do when I first wake up and I must say, for the most part I really love my subconscious imagination. I rarely have nightmares or bad dreams. Most of the time my dreams are like watching a movie. Usually though, my dreams fade quickly and I can't recall them for long, but when I have one I find interesting I try to jot down key details before I lose it completely.
Where am I going with this? Good question. Please read on.
A couple of days ago I woke up laughing at my dream. This dream had no me at all - the lead "character" for want of a better term, was a business man.
There are a couple of things you all know that I love - aliens and crafting, right? Well this time they collided in my dream.
How, might you ask? Well here you go.
The business man had no name, but for ease of description we will call him John.
John started out his day, as usual. He got up in his spartan one room apartment.The amount of light emanating from his small frosted window indicated it was time for work, so he dressed in his shirt and tie and took the elevator four floors down to the office he shared with seven others, mostly women.
It looked like a typical office, painted white with old fashioned brown metal desks. The desks were formed into two rows, four in each row. Each desk was equipped with a computer, phone, pens, paper, and other typical office supplies. There were no windows in this room.
John sat at his desk, typing away on his keyboard for some time before one of his coworkers reminded him that it was break time and he should grab a bite to eat. Thankful for the reminder John left the office and crossed the corridor to a kitchenette area where he prepared a snack. While standing there munching away another coworker approached him from further down the hallway, and reminded him today was their routine physical examination day and he was up next.
John said, "Oh yeah. Thanks." He nervously swallowed the rest of his snack, brushed the crumbs and a quickly formed nervous dampness from his hands to his trousers and gave his shirt an extra tuck into his waistband. He ran his hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and walked to the exam room with the snack in his stomach rumbling in his anxiety. This was a routine exam, but it still made him nervous.
He entered the exam room and sat on the backless bench in the center, glancing around the room. It was more like an eye doctor's exam room than a typical doctor's office exam room. Blindingly white, with machines at about head height on movable frames. One wall had a frosted sliding window into another room that was partially open - maybe about six inches.
The second room was occupied by an automated technician, who remotely operated the machines. One of the machines was manipulated to examine John's ears. It pulled a small white fuzzy object from John's head behind his left ear. An object John had no idea had been there. The technician began behaving oddly, muttering to itself about having made a mistake and hurriedly trying to rectify it by putting the object back, which it did, then hurrying John out of the room, concluding the examination.
John left the room a bit confused and headed to a nearby lavatory where he tried to reason out just what had happened during the exam. What was the object that had been removed and replaced? The object's removal must have damaged it because soon John began to remember things he'd been programmed to forget.
Things like the fact that he was a captive. A slave. Working for aliens that he'd never even seen. As he stood in the restroom, grappling with these memories he began to form a plan. A plan to overthrow the aliens and set himself and his coworkers free.
He brainstormed for several minutes and determined that what he needed to put his plan into action involved...FELTING? Taking fleece from sheep (or other hairy animal) and using soap, water, and rubbing to form large pieces of fabric. His first order of business was to obtain a book on felting from the library in the building to determine exactly how to go about felting.
Do you remember your dreams? Tell me about it in the comments or share your thoughts with me at TheRealABShepherd@hotmail.com.