One Feature After Another

Dearest Rachel –

There are some mornings when I wonder what I’m going to tell you about; there are others where I have the odd dream or two.

And then there are mornings like today.

I’m just hoping I can remember everything that passed before my eyes last night, and write them all down before they fade from memory. This was beyond a double or a triple feature, this was like those ongoing reels in the old-time movie palaces that would all but run constantly from opening to closing, with one feature after another.

The first scene was relatively mundane, as it involved what I presume to be my previous place of employment; the girl in charge of human resources was asking me where I got my figures from, because it was now her place to assemble the calculations I used to do. To be honest, none of the pages or calculations looked remotely familiar, so I didn’t feel like I could help her out. And at some point, it occurred to me that I didn’t work there anymore, and so I wasn’t required to do so. So I left without answering her, and the dream pretty much disappeared – or rather, the scene changed to the warehouse.

But not our warehouse, the one attached to the place I used to work at. Oh, it was pretty similar, with the green epoxy floors, and walls and walls of shelving. But the people there weren’t the ones that I worked with; rather, they were a little better known. For this, as it turned out, was the warehouse belonging to, and being worked in, by the MythBusters; and the way this storyline was set up, I was working underneath them. Basically, I was some sort of secondary builder; not telegenic enough to be part of the build team along with Kari, Grant and Tori (which I’m sure would’ve been obvious to you), but skilled enough (really?) to assist either the team or the main duo with their projects.

Today’s build turned out to be some sort of anti-gravity field, specifically designed for a older gentleman (who resembled an older co-worker of mine who retired years before I did) whose wife was confined to a wheelchair. The idea was that, if she could be suspended in the air somehow, she could be made able to stand up, and possibly even dance with him while the field was running. A clearly impossible endeavor in real life, but nothing is quite impossible in dreams, if you let it. And so, at some point, I found myself standing on a raised pedestal, and stepping off of it, only to find myself walking around an empty section of the warehouse at the same level as the pedestal had been. I don’t know what we had built, or how, but it was working.

The next thing I knew, the camera crew was set up, the gentleman lifted his wife onto the pedestal, requested her to take a step, and she moved her leg onto thin air, which held her in place several feet above the floor. Still holding her hand, he stepped onto the platform, and joined her in mid air, and the pair of them waltz about the warehouse for a minute or two, so that they could get a sufficient amount of footage of the two of them for the show, presumably to be set to appropriate music. Eventually, the field was switched off (don’t ask me how), Adam brought the chair over for her to sit down in, and the gentleman shook his in Jamie’s hands, thanking them both profusely for the opportunity. There was barely a dry eye in the house; even Jamie, stoic as he usually is, seemed quite moved at the chance to provide her with the ability to move around in.

The next thing I knew, I was driving, presumably home or to the folks’ place, because the scene resembled a leafy suburb of some sort, rather than, say, an industrial section of San Francisco where I might have expected to be. After a few evasive maneuvers to avoid the police for whatever reason (dream logic, I assume, because I don’t remember violating any traffic laws), I found myself outside of an electronics shop of some sort, and decided to go in.

The place seemed to be preparing to be closing out, however. Everything was for sale and everything was on sale, and there was a fairly substantial crowd milling about, looking at this deal or that. I must’ve called the two of you, and suggested that you come check the place out for any deals that you might be interested in, because the both of you arrived while I was taking a look at an upright arcade console of what I think had housed a game of Donkey Kong Junior. I’ll admit, the idea of having an arcade size unit or table has always fascinated me, even in real life, ever since the days when we would play on the MAME system on any given one of our computers. I think I balked at the price, however – they still seemed to be asking about ten thousand dollars, even though they seemed to be going out of business.

However, they did also offer several cartridges for what I briefly assumed was our old Atari system, which you and Daniel pointed out. But the one the two of you selected to test out looked particularly elaborate, with gold trim and other sort of filigree around it. When you plugged it in to the system for Daniel to play, the gameplay appeared to be like a sort of Duck Hunt game, but with whole distant flocks of birds for him to shoot at – and the birds were considerably more detailed than I would have expected from that system.

Moreover, as they flew off the screen he was looking at, they began to appear on a bank of screens off to the side, at which point Daniel begin shooting towards them instead. And amazingly enough, this tactic worked, as birds began to fall from the skies as depicted on any of those screens. However, this is where things got really weird – and we had to give up on testing the game. Because, for whatever reason, the gun – and it was a gun-type controller, not the usual joystick or paddle you’d associate with the unit – ‘shot’ a stream or spray of water at its electronic target. You would think that would be the last thing you would want to fire at a television screen, but there you are. We didn’t set anything on fire, nor did we get thrown out of the place, but at that point, we both decided that discretion would be the better part of valor, and made an escape – without buying anything, I might add.

I would say ‘and that was it’ at this point, but I’m pretty sure there were a few other things that happened while I was sleeping. I’ve just run out of recollections. It was just that kind of night, honey. And while it was nice to see you, and I think we must’ve been some ten or fifteen years younger than we are now, most of that would have been a little too chaotic to deal with in real life. Besides, I think I might’ve gotten a ticket or two I’d have had to deal with otherwise; to say nothing of the damages at the electronic shop. Best to get out when the getting’s good.

Anyway, keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck. I think I’m going to need it, after a night like that.