About five years ago I had a very vivid dream that Fiat Automobili Srbija took over the United States government. The new regime quickly drafted a constitution based on the priniciple of repetition and the instinct to shape things like boxes.
It took about a year for Република Инспирисан Параллелепипес (Republic of Inspired Parallelepipeds) to recognize that many residents of the former United States of America used passing lanes improperly, and really, our roads had only one good thing going for them. Dashed lines. An understated yellow rectangle repeated over and over again, sometimes for miles. It was a thing of beauty and something to be protected. So the RIP Function of Automobiles, Roadways, and Transportation Overall restricted passing on roadways to stretches of road divided by solid double yellow lines.
When I woke up the next morning, everything was normal in our world but you could say that my brain-world was not normal. I was still living in the RIP. Upon opening my refrigerator, a cold feeling took me over as though I were being watched. But when I closed it, the feeling went away. When I opened the refrigerator door again, I broke out in a nervous cold sweat. I closed it. Fine. Opened it. Chilling feeling. Closed, warm. Open, icy death.
It was all of the cylindrical shapes. My subconscious was afraid I would be caught by the dreaded SS*. I gathered up everything that could condemn me and prepared to burn it in the living room. The sour cream, peanut butter, marmalade, etc. (But for some reason, I hid the cottage cheese behind the a half gallon of milk. This is not important to the story. Just thought it was interesting.)
Just after I struck the match and ignited the karosene soaked items I recalled that the RIP was not real. It was just a dream. The fire had not spread far and little harm was done to my living room. I believe the tremendous amount of cold and wet items I tried to burn must have slowed the flames.
I was so relieved!
Ever paranoid, I created a Google Alert for “Yugo Changes Passing Ways.” And today, on February 6, 2013, after five years of fear, I got a Google Alert email that read “Did you mean ‘Hugo Chaves Passes Away’?”
Nope. I didn’t mean that. I took this as a sign to grow up and quit fearing my dreams. I realized that your dreams don’t matter. But in a good way! I have never gone to a shrink before, but this is how I resolved to never, ever, ever seek a psychiatrist for help with my disturbing dreams. But you know what matters? Meme’s matter. Apparently. So I designed a little graphic (I am a graphic designer, after all!) and encourage you to spread my new meme, “Your dreams don’t matter. But in a good way!” Reading that will help people across the world I know it.
Okay everybody, Let’s get creative with it all!
*SS = Six Sided police force. To avoid nit picking from the public they wore uniforms made up of Kevlar sandwich boards and a helmet that closely resembled a bee-keeper’s graduation cap.