> The Darkener's Console

A skeleton, probably the remains of a luckless adventurer, lies here.

The NSA Agent in My Dream —

Last night I had an incredibly vivid dream (one of a few, actually). In this particular dream sequence I had parked my car on a busy block and for some reason that escapes me, was walking around the block to get back to it.

I was looking down at the sidewalk and found a couple of dollar bills folded up together. I picked them up and felt very fortunate. I wondered if I would find any more. As luck would have it, I found more bills of different values in different places – some off in a bush, and a large group of them scattered in a grating of sorts in the sidewalk. I wondered if a homeless person had left them there. I figured they were mine for the keeping since they obviously didn’t mean much to its previous holder. I started picking them up, feeling very happy that I finally had some money. As I was doing so, two women walking by tried telling me that what I was doing was wrong. They objected to me taking the money that was lying by itself on the sidewalk. I told them to get lost.

I remember thinking that if the two accusing women had found the money themselves they would have had no moral qualms with pocketing it themselves and they were simply jealous of my good fortune. I felt as if they were simply squawking to squawk; conforming to a general consensus that I should rather go out of my way to find their rightful owners. For bills lying on the street that could just as easily blow away in the wind? I started counting my bills. I discovered that not only $1 bills were now in my possession, but $5, $50 and $100 bills as well. I could not believe I had found it all.

In the next sequence I was sitting down at a streetside restaurant on the other side of the block I was walking. For whatever reason, I had a cupboard of my own at this place, with old dishes and coffee mugs. There were people sitting around, eating and waiting to be served. I noticed a middle-aged NSA agent (complete with short hair, sunglasses and transparent, curly-corded earpiece) sitting across from me at the bar style main table. He reached over the table and into my cupboard, took a small green plate and placed it in front of him.

I looked at him accusingly. He did nothing. I looked at him strongly in the eyes and said, ‘You can’t just take that, that’s mine.’ He stared at me with no response as if he had no obligation to respond. Then, still looking directly into his eyes, I said, ‘You know, the LEAST you could do is ask.’

Apparently that last statement was as much as he could take. He grabbed the plate, opened my cupboard and threw it back in, slamming it shut in a temper tantrum. He then proceeded to grab me, shove me on the ground and attempt to hook some sort of information extraction device up to my leg. I remember a sort of a cross or ” + ” shaped electronic interface on my leg in which he was trying to shove a hose-type connector to, apparently to suck information out of me (obviously against my will and with as much force as possible).

In writing this I cannot deny the curious connection between me finding money and the agent taking my plate. I feel a sense of hypocrisy in my actions in this dream. I feel that dreams are endless landscapes to which play out scenarios that are loosely associated with feelings, emotions, ideas and situations that happen in waking life. An alternate plane of consciousness which has just as much meaning as the wavelength in which we are tuned to here. It is an interesting and intriguing thing to ponder, no?


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