Dream a little dream
May. 17th, 2006 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
christinex1001Man, I don't know what I ate last night....
OK, so take some sort of doomsday device, human guinea pigs, Harlan Ellison, and me, mix them up, and what do you get?
The funkiest dream I've had in a long time.
Setting: Some huge dark warehouse-looking thing set out in some dry, dusty hills. Possibly out near Santa Clarita, or between Simi Valley and Chatsworth.
A group of us have been assembled to inspect some sort of massive anti-matter device...or something of that ilk. (Hey, it's a dream; I don't have to be scientifically accurate.) You know that line from Ghostbusters where Egon says "imagine all matter reversing itself and then exploding outward at the speed of light"? Total protonic reversal! Yeah, that.
So anyway, with this group is esteemed science fiction writer and gadfly, Harlan Ellison. I happen to love Harlan, although I know he rubs some people...OK, a lot of people...the wrong way. I assume he's been invited to inspect the thing because he's going to write a column about it in Omni or something. (Does Omni even exist anymore? Hmm....)
Of course everything goes horribly wrong, since the scientist running the project has convinced himself that we all need to die (don't ask me why...it's a dream). So we're all trapped in this warehouse place, and I'm imagining what it would feel like to have your flesh instantly atomized by a doomsday machine. During this mild freak-out Harlan walks up to me and basically lands one of the best kisses I've ever had on my mouth -- you know, the wonderful kind where the guy sort of cups your face in his hands and holds you while he kisses you. I'm a little shocked at first, but it's a really good kiss, so I tell him, "You know, if you kiss me like that when the bomb goes off I won't even notice that I'm dying." So we make a mutual pact to do the liplock if the crazy scientist really does set off the device.
(Aside: As science fiction writers go, Mr. Ellison isn't bad-looking...or at least he wasn't the way I saw him in the dream, which was probably based on photos from book jackets in my collection. Unfortunately, those photos are probably at least thirty years old. What I'm saying is the guy has a few years on me...like more than 30. Anyway.)
The remainder of the dream seemed to center on us trying to get a hold of the control device for the doomsday machine. I recall a lot of running around on catwalks and that sort of thing -- sort of like the climax to Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. I don't think we ever got blown up, fortunately.
But why I would dream of Harlan Ellison at all, let alone giving me a kiss for the ages...I have no idea. It sure ain't sexual frustration, as my husband can attest. ;-)
OK, so take some sort of doomsday device, human guinea pigs, Harlan Ellison, and me, mix them up, and what do you get?
The funkiest dream I've had in a long time.
Setting: Some huge dark warehouse-looking thing set out in some dry, dusty hills. Possibly out near Santa Clarita, or between Simi Valley and Chatsworth.
A group of us have been assembled to inspect some sort of massive anti-matter device...or something of that ilk. (Hey, it's a dream; I don't have to be scientifically accurate.) You know that line from Ghostbusters where Egon says "imagine all matter reversing itself and then exploding outward at the speed of light"? Total protonic reversal! Yeah, that.
So anyway, with this group is esteemed science fiction writer and gadfly, Harlan Ellison. I happen to love Harlan, although I know he rubs some people...OK, a lot of people...the wrong way. I assume he's been invited to inspect the thing because he's going to write a column about it in Omni or something. (Does Omni even exist anymore? Hmm....)
Of course everything goes horribly wrong, since the scientist running the project has convinced himself that we all need to die (don't ask me why...it's a dream). So we're all trapped in this warehouse place, and I'm imagining what it would feel like to have your flesh instantly atomized by a doomsday machine. During this mild freak-out Harlan walks up to me and basically lands one of the best kisses I've ever had on my mouth -- you know, the wonderful kind where the guy sort of cups your face in his hands and holds you while he kisses you. I'm a little shocked at first, but it's a really good kiss, so I tell him, "You know, if you kiss me like that when the bomb goes off I won't even notice that I'm dying." So we make a mutual pact to do the liplock if the crazy scientist really does set off the device.
(Aside: As science fiction writers go, Mr. Ellison isn't bad-looking...or at least he wasn't the way I saw him in the dream, which was probably based on photos from book jackets in my collection. Unfortunately, those photos are probably at least thirty years old. What I'm saying is the guy has a few years on me...like more than 30. Anyway.)
The remainder of the dream seemed to center on us trying to get a hold of the control device for the doomsday machine. I recall a lot of running around on catwalks and that sort of thing -- sort of like the climax to Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. I don't think we ever got blown up, fortunately.
But why I would dream of Harlan Ellison at all, let alone giving me a kiss for the ages...I have no idea. It sure ain't sexual frustration, as my husband can attest. ;-)
