Culture Indigestion
Apr. 8th, 2009 02:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
garoteI've been getting poor sleep lately.
Also, I got ahold of the Danny Elfman score to 1999's film Sleepy Hollow, and fell asleep listening to it.
Then later on I woke up with the urge to watch the movie, so I w4r3zed it, and slept some more while it downloaded.
Then I watched it.
Who does this remind you of?
Anyway, then I went browsing around IMDB to see what Tim Burton and Christina Ricci have been up to lately, and that led me to Steven Spielberg, and back in time to "The Adventures of Young Sherlock Holmes".
After all that browsing, plus chocolate consumption, I fell asleep for a third time, around 7:00am.
I dreamed I was a detective, wearing a tweed coat, holding a prop smoking pipe, about to unravel the mystery of the disappearing woman. Everyone believed she was dead, but I had a theory.
I was standing in a dirt-walled chamber lit by candles, under the ground behind a mansion. Crude coffins were laid in alcoves along the walls. Close at hand was the village constable and the blacksmith.
"Pry open that coffin, good man," I said, "and you will find the woman. She has been buried alive." I pointed dramatically at a nearby alcove.
The blacksmith strode forward and began to hack at the lid of the coffin with a short, blunt screwdriver, a terribly inefficient way to open a coffin. Meanwhile, behind me, a troop of guardsmen was carrying another coffin awkwardly down the stairs. After much panting and struggling, they heaved it onto a workbench against the wall. I leaned in to examine the new arrival. There was some writing on the lid, in a neat cursive script:
"Meow. Purr."
Suddenly I realized my mistake. "Blacksmith! Halt! That is not the coffin we seek! She is here, in this one! I am certain!"
The blacksmith dropped his screwdriver and turned around, but I was already prying the lid off the new coffin with a crowbar. The nails creaked and the lid flew up. Inside I saw... A hatbox, some clothing, and a large green banana, wedged up against another wooden coffin, just like the first but smaller.
Without hesitation I lifted the small coffin out and swept everything else onto the floor. Then I propped the coffin upright, grabbed the edge of the lid, and yanked it forward and off. Inside I saw... A little girl with blond hair and wild blue eyes, wearing a white dress streaked with dirt. She tumbled forward, stepping off the workbench and into my arms.
"Thank goodness we found you in time!!" I bellowed, grabbing her in a tight embrace.
The music swelled, the camera pulled back, and all the other actors wore suitable expressions of joy. A bright rectangular sunbeam blazed down through the skylight and lit me up. The sequins on the girl's dress sparkled. I hoped that my expression wasn't overdone. I'd hate to ruin such an expensive scene, and I really didn't have enough experience as an actor yet...
I stood up, and the girl was now my cat Tuna. She purred at me. Her white fur and blue eyes glowed. I carried her over to a couch where her kitty-bed was laid out in a sunbeam. Before I put her down, I noticed that the bed and cushions were dusty and sprinkled with lint. I beat the cushions a few times and made a thick cloud of dust. Tuna got impatient and jumped out of my arms and onto her bed.
The mystery solved, I walked upstairs into the restaurant. The walls were plain and the floor was wooden boards. Illumination was candles in a rusty chandelier. Someone was playing jaunty tunes on a piano. Seated at a crude table, unpacking his suitcase, was Christopher Lloyd, dressed in a white lab coat. His hair was teased out in crazy spikes. Obviously he was Doc from Back To The Future.
"You're late," I said.
He scowled at me, and took a swig from his beer glass.
"The whole movie was different, because we couldn't use time travel," I muttered.
The next room had large bay windows that looked over the ocean, and a shower stall. I undressed and stepped into the shower, thinking, "I better clean up quickly. I'm already late for work, and there's a lot of code to write."
After only a few seconds of spray I jumped out and grabbed a fluffy white towel. Then I found a pair of jeans folded on a chair, and put those on, hopping from one leg to the next as I moved into the next room, which was supposed to be my walk-in closet ... but amongst the racks of clothing, someone had installed glass shelves, a desk, and a cash register, effectively converting my large closet into a small clothing store.
A tall woman in casual clothing, including a green sports jersey with a number on it, was seated in a chair against the wall, typing on a laptop. I took her to be the saleswoman.
I pointed at a rack of shirts, pressed onto posterboard beneath sheets of plastic, arranged in a row so they could be flipped through like posters. "Are these the t-shirts?" I asked.
"Yes, these are them," she said.
"You mean, those are they?"
She signed and closed her laptop, then stood up. "I don't know, those are these, them, whatever, yes. Those are the t-shirts."
I began flipping through the rectangles, trying to find a shirt I liked. "You know," I said, thinking out loud, "I bet the internet is going to make our language more like Chinese. We're going to shorten everything symbolically, so it's easier to type. I bet the first thing to go will be apostrophes."
The woman walked over to me, moving in close so that I could feel her breath in the hairs on the back of my head as I flipped through the t-shirts. "Fine by me," she said.
"Okay, I found a shirt," I said, and turned around. This brought me eye-level with the woman's chest. She leaned even closer, pushing me up against the wall and the folded racks. My left hand moved back to steady myself against the wall, and my right hand automatically moved to the woman's hip, against the pocket of her bluejeans.
"Okay then," she said, in a hushed tone. "Now we're supposed to negotiate a price."
I shrugged. "Ah. But you're forgetting something."
"What's that?" she said.
"This is a dream. I can do whatever the hell I want."
I took hold of the hem of her green jersey, and abruptly yanked it up to her jawline. She was not wearing a bra underneath. I grabbed a breast in each hand. Nice, I thought. But...
"Bigger, please," I said to no one in particular.
Her breasts grew a cup size beneath my hands.
"Bigger again, please," I said.
Satisfied with how they felt now, I leaned forward and went to work on the left one. The woman drew a sharp hiss of breath and put her hands on the back of my neck.
Then I woke up.
Also, I got ahold of the Danny Elfman score to 1999's film Sleepy Hollow, and fell asleep listening to it.
Then later on I woke up with the urge to watch the movie, so I w4r3zed it, and slept some more while it downloaded.
Then I watched it.
Who does this remind you of?
Anyway, then I went browsing around IMDB to see what Tim Burton and Christina Ricci have been up to lately, and that led me to Steven Spielberg, and back in time to "The Adventures of Young Sherlock Holmes".
After all that browsing, plus chocolate consumption, I fell asleep for a third time, around 7:00am.
I dreamed I was a detective, wearing a tweed coat, holding a prop smoking pipe, about to unravel the mystery of the disappearing woman. Everyone believed she was dead, but I had a theory.
I was standing in a dirt-walled chamber lit by candles, under the ground behind a mansion. Crude coffins were laid in alcoves along the walls. Close at hand was the village constable and the blacksmith.
"Pry open that coffin, good man," I said, "and you will find the woman. She has been buried alive." I pointed dramatically at a nearby alcove.
The blacksmith strode forward and began to hack at the lid of the coffin with a short, blunt screwdriver, a terribly inefficient way to open a coffin. Meanwhile, behind me, a troop of guardsmen was carrying another coffin awkwardly down the stairs. After much panting and struggling, they heaved it onto a workbench against the wall. I leaned in to examine the new arrival. There was some writing on the lid, in a neat cursive script:
"Meow. Purr."
Suddenly I realized my mistake. "Blacksmith! Halt! That is not the coffin we seek! She is here, in this one! I am certain!"
The blacksmith dropped his screwdriver and turned around, but I was already prying the lid off the new coffin with a crowbar. The nails creaked and the lid flew up. Inside I saw... A hatbox, some clothing, and a large green banana, wedged up against another wooden coffin, just like the first but smaller.
Without hesitation I lifted the small coffin out and swept everything else onto the floor. Then I propped the coffin upright, grabbed the edge of the lid, and yanked it forward and off. Inside I saw... A little girl with blond hair and wild blue eyes, wearing a white dress streaked with dirt. She tumbled forward, stepping off the workbench and into my arms.
"Thank goodness we found you in time!!" I bellowed, grabbing her in a tight embrace.
The music swelled, the camera pulled back, and all the other actors wore suitable expressions of joy. A bright rectangular sunbeam blazed down through the skylight and lit me up. The sequins on the girl's dress sparkled. I hoped that my expression wasn't overdone. I'd hate to ruin such an expensive scene, and I really didn't have enough experience as an actor yet...
I stood up, and the girl was now my cat Tuna. She purred at me. Her white fur and blue eyes glowed. I carried her over to a couch where her kitty-bed was laid out in a sunbeam. Before I put her down, I noticed that the bed and cushions were dusty and sprinkled with lint. I beat the cushions a few times and made a thick cloud of dust. Tuna got impatient and jumped out of my arms and onto her bed.
The mystery solved, I walked upstairs into the restaurant. The walls were plain and the floor was wooden boards. Illumination was candles in a rusty chandelier. Someone was playing jaunty tunes on a piano. Seated at a crude table, unpacking his suitcase, was Christopher Lloyd, dressed in a white lab coat. His hair was teased out in crazy spikes. Obviously he was Doc from Back To The Future.
"You're late," I said.
He scowled at me, and took a swig from his beer glass.
"The whole movie was different, because we couldn't use time travel," I muttered.
The next room had large bay windows that looked over the ocean, and a shower stall. I undressed and stepped into the shower, thinking, "I better clean up quickly. I'm already late for work, and there's a lot of code to write."
After only a few seconds of spray I jumped out and grabbed a fluffy white towel. Then I found a pair of jeans folded on a chair, and put those on, hopping from one leg to the next as I moved into the next room, which was supposed to be my walk-in closet ... but amongst the racks of clothing, someone had installed glass shelves, a desk, and a cash register, effectively converting my large closet into a small clothing store.
A tall woman in casual clothing, including a green sports jersey with a number on it, was seated in a chair against the wall, typing on a laptop. I took her to be the saleswoman.
I pointed at a rack of shirts, pressed onto posterboard beneath sheets of plastic, arranged in a row so they could be flipped through like posters. "Are these the t-shirts?" I asked.
"Yes, these are them," she said.
"You mean, those are they?"
She signed and closed her laptop, then stood up. "I don't know, those are these, them, whatever, yes. Those are the t-shirts."
I began flipping through the rectangles, trying to find a shirt I liked. "You know," I said, thinking out loud, "I bet the internet is going to make our language more like Chinese. We're going to shorten everything symbolically, so it's easier to type. I bet the first thing to go will be apostrophes."
The woman walked over to me, moving in close so that I could feel her breath in the hairs on the back of my head as I flipped through the t-shirts. "Fine by me," she said.
"Okay, I found a shirt," I said, and turned around. This brought me eye-level with the woman's chest. She leaned even closer, pushing me up against the wall and the folded racks. My left hand moved back to steady myself against the wall, and my right hand automatically moved to the woman's hip, against the pocket of her bluejeans.
"Okay then," she said, in a hushed tone. "Now we're supposed to negotiate a price."
I shrugged. "Ah. But you're forgetting something."
"What's that?" she said.
"This is a dream. I can do whatever the hell I want."
I took hold of the hem of her green jersey, and abruptly yanked it up to her jawline. She was not wearing a bra underneath. I grabbed a breast in each hand. Nice, I thought. But...
"Bigger, please," I said to no one in particular.
Her breasts grew a cup size beneath my hands.
"Bigger again, please," I said.
Satisfied with how they felt now, I leaned forward and went to work on the left one. The woman drew a sharp hiss of breath and put her hands on the back of my neck.
Then I woke up.
