윤

Had a dream the other day that I couldn’t get into a library without waiting in line, and I wasn’t even sure what for, and even when I did, I stayed because I didn’t have much of a reason to enter, anyway. Later that evening, I’d spend our entire time at the harvest moon festival in front of a food truck for a shitty $16 plate of 불고기-topped noodles, prompting me to prayer:

Now I lay me down for the day,
I pray my Dreams take me away;
For Life’ll still suck when I awake,
I pray my Dreams give me a break.

All that I ask is something new,
The smallest change from my Day’ll do;
All that I ask is to be free,
From all the Fears restraining me.

If aliens could trigger an eclipse with a wearable device back in the 40’s, surely the technology is not out of reach for us? BTW, Lynda Carter was fire in that cape.

Dreamt I was standing with a blonde woman in the fog and we saw another with darker hair and a long coat approaching, whom I immediately recognized as having known, and recently. May have been Leon’s referral of the Seinfeld show as “weekly ass” in the Curb finale last night, but my companion looked at me disapprovingly. Even worse, my one-nighter pointed the barrel of a gun at me.

I think this will be the name of the game idea I had about finding a bathroom in time, and the oft-perilous journey that entails, forcing strategic decisions between locations far and near, braving hordes of obstacles and competitors, all the while the ominous meter gauges your remaining willpower to hold it in. Different “levels” could take place in crowded department stores, highway rest stops and even your own home during family get-togethers.

Here’s what I have so far for an eponymous homophonic one-off from my planned next season of “Still Not Happening” strips—

Narrator: *Our story begins, as did life on the planet
With all that water and what happens if you don’t plan it.*

Narrator: *Relief is a short distance away, but alas
The wait to receive it longer, unless you were a lass?*

Narrator: *Fate is a harsh mistress and when you will meet her
Is tracked by a remaining strength-to-hold-it-in meter.*

Narrator: *It suddenly dawns on you what the pastor meant
About overindulgence making for lasting torment.*

Narrator: *The reminders may grate, but you must be bolder
For the pressure is great, like being crushed by a boulder!*

Narrator: *Next time all your might goes to holding in urine
Focus it elsewhere to make the most of the mess you’re in.*

I had this dream I was copying an old documentary about the Pet Shop Boys, at least it looked like Neil Tennant who sat around while his bandmate swapped costumes. The remote for the Betamax featured two buttons on the top row that rewound the tape to the previous chapter and displayed its name, in this case “JOY DIVISION”; the snow in the playback, however, betrayed the technology. The end credits played an alternate version of New Order’s “Temptation” in a different key, and with unfamiliar choral vocals; I forgot the tune an hour after waking.

Why are you hearing it now, you ask
Maybe you’re closer to here than you imagine
Maybe you’re closer to here than you care to be

I only heard the first part recently so I thought it was a recent remix’s addition, because oh man, are those lyrics incisive compared to the rest of the song.

I haven’t been running much lately, but last night I had a dream I was on the street around the block and awkwardly encountered Steven Devadanam (pardon my spelling, it’s been a while) with his toddler child, but before I could think of an excuse not to have to catch up, a man came rushing past, a terrified look on his face. We saw no one or thing in pursuit, but Steve wasn’t taking any chances, picked up his kid and took off down an alley; I saw the wisdom in his act, but didn’t consider that my lagging behind them would endanger us all, because my legs weren’t providing the speed they used to. Do they ever in these situations?

And worse, I’ve been craving donuts, which must’ve made me dream about visiting Will at his new place of employment in a big office building, which had inside its own Japanese chain of specialty donut-hole pastries. This business catered only to companies large enough to house and sustain their branches, and struck me as a brilliant concept, until, of course, I woke up and remembered those sad little shops closed after hours in the Minneapolis sky-walk connections.

Jin spotted this favorite and must’ve prompted a dream where I had access to one owned by my boss, all the more opportune because a comely English barmaid with red hair asked for a ride home. Ever the gentleman, I waited as she replaced her uniform with a tight-fitting mesh sweater. She sat to my left (hence the RHD) and we proceeded through dark, neon-lit streets, and I was impressed how the small car managed through a space that looked barely passable for a pedestrian.

Immaculately dressed blonde British spy and I solved the mystery behind the whereabouts of the legendary weapon and unearthed it from a burlap cover in an abandoned warehouse; we knew it wouldn’t be easy returning the treasure to her government (despite serving as no basis for its system, since supreme executive power of course derives from a mandate from the masses), so I put her hand on its hilt and hid it under her long coat, holding her closely as we waded through the crowds on the street, separating momentarily to pass when they got densest.

Recurring dream from my past hasn’t bothered me for as long as I can remember (nor competently search), but returned last night: I didn’t get any details, because they’re never important; some brute would grab me by a vulnerable spot, I think this time it was near my armpit but my genitals were a favorite target, and clamp down with such force that left me paralyzed and helpless. Worse, however, is the feeling of shame for such frailty, whether from failing to master challenges to my psyche in my own back yard or develop a modicum of confidence after a lifetime of them. I used to think the pain was manifesting a real inflammation, maybe a bug bite, nocturnal spasm, the wife taking out her frustrations on me in my sleep, or else could it be the guilt from a weekend spent weakly watching playthroughs of Baldur’s Gate 3 on the couch?

Chris hadn’t recognized the cartoon Easter Egg in the recent D&D movie, so we reviewed those scenes in the “maze” on his Apple TV’s Paramount+ subscription before I turned a nap into the rest of the night, which must have contributed to this sci-fi/horror premise where three of us, one group of many, found ourselves in a modern building not unlike Dongdaemun Design Plaza whose long hallways were lined with unmarked rooms containing dangerous surprises, and it was our mission to find an exit before succumbing to them. My party-mates were Ron C., I think, and a pole-less adult version of Diana the Acrobat in the yellow jumpsuit we contestants were all assigned. Our first obstacle to the next floor were large halls patrolled by car-sized cats, which we could see through a window pouncing on others as they attempted to pass. Two old ladies seated outside recommended we try the dogs instead and not to show any fear when they approached. Sure enough, a harnessed Golden Retriever with legs my height came at us like a train but stopped only to sniff as we slowly made our way to a door at the other end.

We somehow reached safety on a level above, but curiosity about the workings of the facility led me quite foolishly back downstairs to sneak a look-don’t-tell at the maintenance crew cleaning up the mangled bodies from different rooms. I thought I was a safe distance from them but was too far from the stairwell and the open corridor offered no hiding place when an official spotted me. My uniform was a dead giveaway so I leaned against the door beside me and pretended to have been ordered to wait there. The explanation seemed to trigger one in her mind, as she went on about how the “Destroyers” needed to recharge and left with her entourage satisfied. These people were in the business of mass extermination, and before the coast was clear for me to leave my post, a snobbish general-type emerged from an office to my left complaining about debris in the form of a severed arm, opened my door and tossed it inside before returning.

Joseph Lin was still the boss at work, and I sought his permission to borrow the truck parked in the warehouse to get home, though I thought it might not be worth the trouble, having to bring it back in the morning. His complexion was worse than I remember, and he wiped away the sweat or secretions while he explained to me that Patrick Stewart was retiring not only from his career in film and television, but his honorary position at the company. (Reminds me of the celebrity endorsement Apex purchased from Terry Bradshaw.) My earlier scenario found me free from my usual state of transportation-disabled, collecting my things after a class, fitting one backpack into another so that I’d only have two to carry. The girl that had sat beside me, who had curly brown hair like the actress who played Elaine’s counterpart on Jerry’s failed pilot, told me her father was picking her up, but that he was fussy about her sitting in his car, even the way she handled its door. I told her I’d take her home instead and not complain, “I’ll even open it for you,” I offered—the conversation felt real, I recall our exchange clearly; she asked me for my name, which despite a certain extent of intimacy we somehow hadn’t gotten to sharing, to which she replied, “The Jay?” “I guess I am,” I flustered, and our relationship having withstood my reputation, bravely requested her number. She smiled and nodded, and as I fumbled for a writing instrument in one of the nylon pockets, I would learn she was Marissa.

The product announced today has me tempted to capture one of my 全力坂 runs before it’s too late, even if it may already be, ironically, for my own vision.

Update: I don’t think it’s particularly creepy or Black Mirror-dystopian to record with one of these on, any more so than using a giant phone or iPad camera, but I did wake up screaming at a swarm of bugs hovering above us last night, only to realize that it just might have been the kind of nightmare AR will make possible.