It took me YEARS to develop the discipline necessary to learn to run in my dreams and more than one hungry monster has since stood in my dust wondering HOW'D HE DO THAT! as they pulled out their pocket manuals and went right to the glossary, under L for LOOPHOLES. One snapped a photo. One wrung his mitts to the heavens, which, in dreams, is apparently oriented downwards, below your feet. Really.
Ain't no monster can catch the boy who knows how to run through his dreams.
And then, last night, they came back from vacation, from a working conference, probably, bags full of new frustrations tucked into the folds of their leathery skin.
In my sleep, I found myself in a panic I couldn't outrun. I desperately needed to know the lyrics to 'Winds of Change' by the Scorpions! And even worse, my internet connection was set to expire at ANY MOMENT because the Hyatt is a kind of monster within the hospitality Industry (it's true!)!
And...and...and... (catches breath!) ...here is where the demons got devilishly clever: MY HANDS WOULD NOT OBEY MY COMMAND!!!
I could not type fast enough! And of course, the misspellings, OH THE MISSPELLINGS! I tried to type SCORPIONS (SCR@2xx.eoe)! I tried to type WINDS (WXIGNSSSSSSSSS)! Then CHANGE (*(DDKKIE_+)!!!
And every time I went back to delete the nonsensical letters, the cursor would stop moving, only to start up again really fast after I finally succeeded in typing something coherent! Once, I typed in SCORPIONS WINDS OF CHANGE only to see the cursor quickly delete each letter in rapid succession before I could IMPEL MY INDEX FINGER TO HIT THE ENTER BUTTON WHICH APPARENTLY IN DREAM COMPUTERS IS NO LONGER FOUND ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE KEYBOARD BUT SOMEWHERE ACTUALLY BEHIND THE SCREEN!!!
And even when I got REASONABLY CLOSE, Google, instead of replying, 'DID YOU MEAN THE SCORPIONS WINDS OF CHANGE,' would instead keep saying, 'DID YOU MEAN WHY ARE WE NOT HAVING CHEESE FOR DINNER?'
I spent years learning how to run. And now I've got to learn how to type faster than the demons fucking with the wi-fi of my dreams.
4 comments:
Am trying to figure out how to tell you that your writing is brilliant without sound like:
1. a suck-up
2. pathetic
3. a member of your fan club
4. a stalker
5. all of the above
(let me know if any of these work for you...)
I'm going to try to break through that "new acquaintance" wall before TC08 so that I don't stammer and drool when I meet you. Well, unless you'd like that...
don't worry, we all pretty much stammer and drool at tequilacon anyway. i don't think anyone really notices anymore!
I hope this doesn't actually mean we're NOT having cheese for dinner? Because I've got some macaroni that's going to be seriously distraught.
Which reminds me, TC'08 needs to be at a restaurant which features macaroni and cheese. If I'd been on the council, that would be a requirement. Well, that or really good scotch, either one. Both would be great.
Oh, here you are.
"Ain't no monster can catch the boy who knows how to run through his dreams."
See, it's brilliant--and brilliantly simple--shit like this that supports my current decision to just read and not blog for a while.
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