윤

I always kept remembering this series’ title as “Long Lost Love Letter”; I may have tuned in for 常盤貴子, but stayed for the odd premise (which, with its castaway time travel, isn’t too unfamiliar) among the usual Sunday evening fare. I missed most of the last one, but enough of their message back got through that not only did they all avoid getting stuck in the 漂流教室 that fateful Saturday, but also somehow managed to avert the apocalypse. Sorta like what they wanted the Jughead to do at the end of Season Five, if it also took out Locke …come to think of it, the drama did drag on the requisite number of episodes, and I recall a student’s ridiculous pre-netbook battery lasting weeks on its single charge, but I dug the choice of theme song—island, get it? 老婆 says the original was better, but lately I’m of the opinion that まんが is best distilled.

Last night I dreamed I was in one of several maternity wards at the hospital for the birth of our child—not the same hospital, but a hospital; in fact, it wasn’t necessarily even the child we had. Maybe, I got to thinking today, it was a child we had in another reality. Or could all these dreams be Lost-like purgatories? In many of them I do seem to be searching for 老婆. A long time ago I woke up to this kooky idea that once a year we somehow manage to “sync” with an object of your affection (or in the absence thereof, lust) and enter their actual dreams, so you’d better make the most of the opportunity. Assuming you realize it’s one.

The times they certainly are a-plenty of them, and I thought I might use the opportunity to implement one here, too, transferring everything to X’s beta site, but even that undertaking, involving a WordPress reinstall and possible theme re-tool, proved too much for my diminishing drive.

Oh, I’d been tempted to update, especially with developments like these——not to mention some trademark quips about the Lost finale, but forums sufficed. So let’s fire her up again, and hope that my brain doesn’t go the way of my car battery (which I wrestled with for an hour last night before giving up trying to get past the starter and left crud under my fingernails I couldn’t completely wash out to burp and change the baby; other parents want theirs to be doctors, lawyers, President, and I’d be happy with an auto mechanic).

(That’s because I’ve already had a post called “Lost”.) So I only just started watching the show, it being the last season, which may have been the wrong approach, secrets and back-stories all at once. It’s well-enough done, and of course I’m especially drawn to the alternate reality aspect of the “flash sideways”, but can’t get over my memory of seeing Mr. Roarke face off against Roddy McDowall as the Devil so many Saturday nights ago. Speaking of which, I rather liked the later series with Malcolm McDowell and Mädchen Amick.

I’ve never actually watched a full episode, but that doesn’t stop my subconscious from imagining what it’s like. Been a couple of days since this dream, so my recollection’s deteriorated substantially: it was night-time, and like the scene in Quatermass and The Pit, it wasn’t safe to be different. One of my companions was prepared: he produced a fake arm cast and hid from a mob with similar handicaps, who noticed my lack thereof and pursued me (as best they could, I presume). I escaped them into another dangerous zone of African-Americans. They backed me into a corner—but what luck! It was a senior’s home, where my graying hair allowed me to fit in… well, occasionally there’s little need for interpretation.