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Willet of Ember
Dec. 11th, 2020 10:00 pmOne night of my dreams could keep two Jungians and an oneirologist at work for a year.
1. I'm living on a space station where misguided AI engineers have created intelligent spiders. The spiders range in size from tiny to enormous. They are slowly filling the interior space with black webs, and have completely taken over some sectors. The engineers have decided it would be prudent to decamp back to Earth. I'm pretty sure that we will somehow carry tiny spiders or eggs back with us, thus dooming our home planet as well to the Invasion of the Spiders. I feel we should stay put and take the consequences of our folly. But, since I can't force the others to stay, I'm fatalistically planning to go with them. Whatever, we're doomed now anyway.
2. I agreed to look after two elephants for a friend who never came back. One elephant died, and I somehow moved its body out of the spare bedroom and down the stairs and disposed of it, all by myself. But--horrors! The other elephant is still there. In my house. It is (pick one): 1. Dead 2. Has been dead for some time 3. Comatose, due to my criminal neglect 4. Just sleeping. But in my house. I cannot know until I return to the scene of the crime and open the door. Schrodinger's Elephant.
3. A scruffy young man with a goatee and a knit beanie has become a fugitive. He's carrying his small child with him in a sling. He still has the control card that gives him access to his smart house, but he can't actually go inside because it would set off an alarm and he'd be captured. He returns periodically to use the card to get milk for his child from an external snack port. As he hands the refilled bottle of milk to the baby and runs off into the alleys again, he mutters: "Before, to be a good citizen you had to fight the fascists. Now you have to fight the trolls."
4. An art teacher at a school for children of privilege has assigned her students to draw an assignment using "an unlabeled pencil." I understand that her intention is to show them that you can make art without expensive tools. However, she is too embedded in privilege herself to understand that there is no such thing as some off-brand pencil without a label on it. She has sent her students to ransack every store in town in search of a pencil that doesn't exist. "Yes, it is true that a cheap no. 2 pencil from the dime store [shows my age] can be a fantastic tool of art," I say. "But if you knew anything about real life, you'd know that every pencil has a label, even a Dixon Ticonderoga." I am now shouting at people in a dream again, overcome with indignation. "You clueless idiot, EVERY PENCIL HAS A LABEL." Sigh. I'm going to start a hashtag: #AllPencils
Whoah, you might say, there's something going on with this person. But that, as Jimmy Stewart says in "The Philadelphia Story," is the unholy surprise of it. There is absolutely nothing going on. Business as usual.
1. I'm living on a space station where misguided AI engineers have created intelligent spiders. The spiders range in size from tiny to enormous. They are slowly filling the interior space with black webs, and have completely taken over some sectors. The engineers have decided it would be prudent to decamp back to Earth. I'm pretty sure that we will somehow carry tiny spiders or eggs back with us, thus dooming our home planet as well to the Invasion of the Spiders. I feel we should stay put and take the consequences of our folly. But, since I can't force the others to stay, I'm fatalistically planning to go with them. Whatever, we're doomed now anyway.
2. I agreed to look after two elephants for a friend who never came back. One elephant died, and I somehow moved its body out of the spare bedroom and down the stairs and disposed of it, all by myself. But--horrors! The other elephant is still there. In my house. It is (pick one): 1. Dead 2. Has been dead for some time 3. Comatose, due to my criminal neglect 4. Just sleeping. But in my house. I cannot know until I return to the scene of the crime and open the door. Schrodinger's Elephant.
3. A scruffy young man with a goatee and a knit beanie has become a fugitive. He's carrying his small child with him in a sling. He still has the control card that gives him access to his smart house, but he can't actually go inside because it would set off an alarm and he'd be captured. He returns periodically to use the card to get milk for his child from an external snack port. As he hands the refilled bottle of milk to the baby and runs off into the alleys again, he mutters: "Before, to be a good citizen you had to fight the fascists. Now you have to fight the trolls."
4. An art teacher at a school for children of privilege has assigned her students to draw an assignment using "an unlabeled pencil." I understand that her intention is to show them that you can make art without expensive tools. However, she is too embedded in privilege herself to understand that there is no such thing as some off-brand pencil without a label on it. She has sent her students to ransack every store in town in search of a pencil that doesn't exist. "Yes, it is true that a cheap no. 2 pencil from the dime store [shows my age] can be a fantastic tool of art," I say. "But if you knew anything about real life, you'd know that every pencil has a label, even a Dixon Ticonderoga." I am now shouting at people in a dream again, overcome with indignation. "You clueless idiot, EVERY PENCIL HAS A LABEL." Sigh. I'm going to start a hashtag: #AllPencils
Whoah, you might say, there's something going on with this person. But that, as Jimmy Stewart says in "The Philadelphia Story," is the unholy surprise of it. There is absolutely nothing going on. Business as usual.
