What Dreams May Come

I'm actually working on a theory that people tend to dream, at least sometimes, according to certain motifs. For example, I think I dream at times in something that can only be described as Pythonesque. As in Monty Python. I base this largely upon the time I dreamed that I had a remotely controlled robotic John Cleese. It wasn't a terribly good robot, though, as it couldn't walk. It did have wheels, however. I know of other people who dream in other motifs. I have a friend who tends to dream as if it were an action movie. I have another whose dreams sound remarkably like episodes of the X-Files. And one guy who used to work in the record store in the mall describes his dreams as being like music videos. Myself, the most common themes are Pythonesque farce and being trapped at work, unable to close the store and go home for one reason or another. Perhaps there's a hidden message in those particular dreams, but let's ignore that.

The most memorable odd farce dream I had involved driving a piece of carpet down one of the main streets in my city. It was late at night, so the traffic wasn't really an issue. I should point out that it wasn't a flying carpet, just a rectangle of carpet upon which I sat, and it moved down the road on its own power. I just had to lean left or right to steer, much like a toboggan. This was on level asphalt, though. In the dream I found nothing out of the ordinary in driving a chunk of carpet on a public thoroughfare, although there were other people driving cars around me. It seemed perfectly normal to cruise along Grafton Street and turn onto Riverside Drive. At least, it did until the law arrived.

Apparently something must have been amiss in my driving because I was pulled over. Not by the police, mind you, but by a politician. The deputy speaker of the provincial legislature, if you must know. She pulled me over, although I'm not sure how, since I don't recall her driving a car with flashing lights or anything. I also don't recall precisely why I was pulled over, whether it was because I was driving a piece of carpet, or because I was driving the carpet too fast, or if it was a random spot check. I wasn't terribly impressed on being pulled over by a politician, however, and I decided that she didn't have the required authority to ticket me, so I drove off.

Instead of putting some distance between me and Ms. Deputy Speaker, however, I decided to hide in a nearby building. Perhaps not the best course of action, I'll admit. This was obviously one persistent politician, because she sent her assistants to look for me. Thankfully, they were somewhat less than competent, because when one of them found me, rather than doing anything whatsoever to stop me, he went to tell the others. I decided this was a good time to move to another hiding spot, and alas, that's when I awoke, as I was almost late for work. To this day I wonder what would have happened next.

The single most common thread with dreams is that only those which are interrupted are remembered. This means that any really memorable dream is like a movie that you stopped watching before the final act. It's gone, and it can never be recaptured, and I suspect that the lack of closure is part of what makes these dreams so memorable. Unlike movies, however, your dreams won't be available on DVD in three to six months. At least, not until someone develops the appropriate technology. I'll get back to you when that happens.