Dream

So, I had a dream last night that want to share with you because I think it is significant and symbolic. The setting is a large building (a conference center? lots of glass windows). In front of it is a shallow, warm river divided by a winding stone pathway.

I was walking down the pathway and noticed two men standing together, debating a topic of some import. A small group was seated nearby, listening. I, too, stood nearby and listened to them, weighing their arguments carefully.

Gradually, more people arrived. Some were dressed in fancy clothing, walking down the pathway or along the grassy shore. Some were in swimming attire, walking or lounging in the warm water of the river.

As I looked, a man approached me. It was Kevin Bacon, shirtless, looking rather flabby - the years had not been kind. "I think I'd go for that book exchange," he said to me. We had previously agreed to exchange favorite books for the other's reading pleasure. Although intimidated by his social stature, I heartily agreed to have a book for him when next we met.

As soon as Kevin Bacon left, I realized - to my horror - that I didn't know if he liked fantasy novels. What would happen if I gave him a treasured novel which he then disliked? Would he judge me by my favorite book? I looked frantically around but could see him nowhere. I began walking quickly through the crowd, past white-gloved waiters carrying silver trays of drinks and hors d'ouvres.

A group of men representing a madman bent on world domination suddenly rushed into the crowd, shooting indiscriminately with dart guns which weren't exactly fatal, but stung somewhat. I ran into the conference center to the second level, sure I could find the bomb (that apparently existed) before it exploded. Darts sort of stung my back, but my clothing was thickish, so I was okay...but they were totally a big threat that I nobly ignored as I rushed into danger. As I ran, I noticed a black-suited enemy agent about to fire on an innocent, cowering office worker! A perfectly executed flying elbow to the back of his neck, and his dart pistol was mine, the worker bumbling out a shaky thank you as I ran on.

I ran down the stairs to the lower level. Following a cry from a basement room, I rushed in to see a woman struggling for her life! She stood by a window, her right arm above and behind her head, her elbow caught in the slats of a set of window blinds! I disentangled her from certain doom amid the relieved sobs of her family, and ran onward, certain that I would not get credit for the two lives I had saved (well, it probably rounded up to two) but that good was worth doing for its own sake.

I ran out of the building onto the wide front lawn by the long driveway. Seated under an awning I noted Mr. Bacon, lounging with a lady friend! He gave me a look as I ran up - you know, the self-satisfied one that says I may be past my prime, but my fame still buys me a cheap fling with a shallow woman whenever I want one - and I was about to ask him how he would feel about my loaning him a fantasy novel which is classified as young adult fiction but that, you know, adults can really get into. At that moment, a line of black suburbans came roaring onto the drive from the underground parking garage, no doubt filled with villainous henchmen!

I sighted carefully at the one conveniently dripping fuel and fired several darts, which made sparks as they hit the pavement and blew up the vehicle, causing a chain reaction that made me extra heroic.

Steven Seagal, who had been standing atop a nearby hill talking on his cell, motioned to me frantically. "Jordan, I need your help!" he said. "My dad is Italian and doesn't speak English and I need to know if he liked my latest movie!" I took the phone and said Steven vuole sapere se il suo ultimo film ti piace or something like that, and the man said Beh, non era il suo migliore or something, and I told Steven that his dad liked it okay, but it wasn't his best, and Mr. Seagal nodded knowingly because he knows he's only in it for the money and none of his films are any good.

So, that's it. Where is one who can interpret?! It's obviously significant and important, but some questions remain. Was there really a bomb after all? How did Kevin get so far out of shape, and would he like The Name of The Wind? Is that really my favorite book, or was I just giving him one I really like, but not my absolute favorite, just in case he is secretly mocking me and pretending we are friends?