So yeah, I slept in BIG TIME this morning, and as my mind emerged from whatever wild and weird joint it hangs out in while I snooze, it presented me we a terrifying scenario: my blog had been hijacked by an extremely sinister, underworld criminal organisation populated by beefy, overcoat-wearing thugs from central casting circa 1935. The mob boss was appropriately well- dressed in a snazzy, stripey suit, and he did all his extorting business from the backseat of a vintage gangster car using a mobile phone. He was very mean. The more distressed I grew, the more smug and over-confident he became. My mind even presented this unlikely scenario in black and white, an arty-farty device that leads me to suspect that my subconscious was very consciously showing off and doing a fair bit of hijacking of its own, mainly from cinematic sources like On the Waterfront (which I caught again a few weeks ago) and anything with James Cagney or Edward G Robinson in it.
And what did these tough guys want? As classic crims, their goal was uninspiringly basic - it was merely about procurring an obscene amount of money. Mostly the dream focused on my inability to access my blog, and how helpless I felt. It was terrible! To up the anty and make me sweat when I couldn't cough up, the heavies started posting horrible opinion pieces and pictures that outraged everyone, and even though I tried to cunningly leave comments all over the Internet to alert the world to the fact that I was no longer in control of my blog, this nightmarish media-mafia kept outsmarting me, heading me off in the back alleyways of cyberspace. As they did the typical overcoats-and - scarves-and-hats-and-brandishing-smoking-automatic-weapons-in-profile shots, mob minions mocked my attempts as clumsy and typical of most marks. Those dirty rats laughed evil laughs as I squirmed. My subconscious does not do subtle, it would seem.
If the alarm clock hadn't woken me at a certain despairing moment, I wonder if I would have triumphed? I suspect so, since the plot was mostly strung together clichees and cardboard characters, and the thugs were all so arrogantly despicable that they were practically begging for their comeuppance. Perhaps I would have lured my enemies into a deserted warehouse, pulled a Tommy gun from a violin case and mowed them down in the best gun moll fashion. Perhaps, whilst wearing a natty beret and cheekily chewing gum, I would have infiltrated their organisation and finagled a financial sting to bring down their whole sleazy empire, thus freeing the Internet forever from such extortion rackets and liberating blogs everywhere. Yes, I'm pretty sure my subconscious had already scripted an upbeat, empowering ending. Maybe tomorrow morning...
2 comments:
Black and white dreaming? Now that's really something. I'm never sure whether I have color in my dreams, but conversely, I've never woken feeling sure I didn't have color.
I derisively noted the fact while I was dreaming, just as I also critiqued the cardboard characters, so technically it was probably more a case of lucid dreaming than fare served up by my subconscious. Still, it was entertaining, and I didn't even have to get out of bed to enjoy it :)
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