I am in a crowded train station somewhere in India. A little girl wearing a lime green T-shirt wants to trade her shirt for my red one. She likes red better, I like green better. She says that I should take mine off, and she will go to the bathroom to change. Seconds later, I realize the scam. Shirtless and embarassed in India, I run through the station and finally find her, protected by two evil-looking Europeans who run the shirt-stealing business.<\/p>\n
I give them a compelling spech about how I got the whole thing on videotape, and their corrupt empire is about to fall apart. I really didn’t care about the shirt, but I was full of hatred and anger. (Not often experiencing or at least acknowledging these emotions on a day-to-day basis, I wonder if I don’t use dreeams as a form of catharsis.) My speech was very effective: they got scared and pulled guns. Using my dream magic, I quickly grabbed the guns and held one gun in each hand, aimed at each man. I had them look up, and there were the station security cameras, which I think I planted as a semi-lucid<\/a> stunt. Someone was playing a harpsichord<\/a>…<\/p>\n So I am then with some lady in a strange house. There is a large piano there, and I realize it is actually an electric organ. But when I hit the keys, it plays a real piano note in addition to the synthetic organ note. An interesting effect. The lady I am with can play one melody on the piano and one on the organ at the same time. I can only get the same melody in different tones, as I can only hit one key at a time. How does she do that? I notice a harpsichord<\/a>, and ask if I can play it. I have never seen one before, but I love the sound and am dying to experiment. She starts playing and I am hungry…<\/p>\n I go into a convenience store, which doesn’t seem to be open. Some friend I am with takes some cheese popcorn, which I find nasty. I look around for something else. The clerk suddenly emerges, and suggests the cook’s famous red-hot french fries, but I have to find him and ask him to make them. This proves to be simple enough. But I realize that there is a fight going on outside. Not one to get involved, I watch detatchedly for a little while. Then I realize it is not a fair fight; it is a friend of mine being killed by about six men. I run out there, and again, summoning some dream magic, quickly remove the weapons from one of them, who happens to be the old-generation Spock! I aim the phaser at his neck, and ask him why he is fighting — surely it is not Logical.<\/p>\n He says that it is not logical to fear death, so my phaser aimed at him doesn’t phase him! Well, I give him a little blast and it changes his mind. I say, “Aha, you ARE half human! now stop bickering! Can’t we all listen to the Carpenters in peace?” I give another moving speech, words coming out of me from nowhere. I realize that I have taken on Kirk’s odd, melodramatic mannerism. (I must interject, I really hate old Star Trek, and never watch it, never really have.) I talk about Harmony, Love, and the Carpenters. Spock finally agrees that listening to them might not be so bad, and I go back to the piano\/organ thing, and try to play “Close to You”. I can’t do it, but the lady can. I notice that the clock radio has turned on, and is playing the Carpenters. Soon it plays “When You’re in Love With a Beautiful Woman”<\/a> by Smokey Robinson<\/a>, or Al Jarreau<\/a>, or some other “smooth lover” type guy. Strange, I didn’t know there was Lite Rock in Japan. I certainly don’t remember setting the clock radio to turn on.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I am in a crowded train station somewhere in India. A little girl wearing a lime green T-shirt wants to trade her shirt for my red one. She likes red better, I like green better. She says that I should take mine off, and she will go to the bathroom […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-213","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-cluespace"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/213","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=213"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/213\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3679,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/213\/revisions\/3679"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=213"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=213"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.abrupt.org\/abruptlog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=213"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}