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    Blue_Opossum

    Bobblehead Road Trip

    by , 07-26-2018 at 01:32 PM (88 Views)
    Morning of July 26, 2018. Thursday.

    Reading time: 1 min 24 sec. Readability score: 66.



    I am driving an unfamiliar car. The driver’s side is on the left (implying America). Brenda is on the passenger side. There are no threads of my conscious self at this point. We are going north on Highway Seventeen (the original one).

    An outdoor seminar on dreaming is occurring in an area we pass to my right. Brenda cheerfully points and says, “Bobbleheads.” (This is what I call people who talk or write about dreams or their so-called meaning while having no understanding of the dream state.) Something about the scenario seems off, and I try to consider what it is. Brenda’s head is now slumping forward. Her head is Betty Boop’s. I wonder if she is a clockwork girl that has suddenly malfunctioned. For a moment, I consider I may get into trouble for stealing or taking advantage of a movie prop. Her forehead seems to have an electrical outlet (the American type).

    Glancing at Brenda (or Betty Boop) again later, I see her changing into different dream characters at the rate of about two per second, cycling through many diverse personas. Finally, “she” becomes George Harrison and continues to talk about Bobbleheads.

    We continue on our road trip with a cheerful disposition. We arrive at a music studio. George has a meeting with several music producers. Once in the room, however, it seems to be a class on economics. Going up to the front, where a chart on an easel displays an upward trend (a linear representation of the waking process), I see that all the students are equidistant identical ceramic chicks (yet still living entities), which turn their heads left to look at us. They chirp similar clouds of small triangles, circles, and squares, mostly of red, blue, green, and yellow, of which float about above their heads for short periods of time. They seem to be asking why most humans are unable to communicate with them. (This is emerging consciousness simulacra of which first occurred around age three. What wonderful nostalgia.)



    (Zsuzsanna and I were talking about “Route 66” yesterday, though she has never seen the show.)


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