I’m not one for writing down the product of brain activity while sleeping but once and a while the neural playback of recent events is so amalgamated that it has to be shared. So I tried that this morning, relaying the events from my dream state to the Rocket Scientist. After I was done she looked confused and then became annoyed that I had just taken valuable time out of her morning.
Not satisfied with her reaction I decided to take things to the web wherein I run the risk of annoying even more people but as I always say: If you’re riding a train wreck, go big.
It started with an early afternoon walk in a nice, quiet neighborhood. The streets were clean but not sterile. The pavement was uneven here and there where trees had decided they had the right-of-way. The sidewalk led to Main street lined with an assortment of shops and restaurants. There were people everywhere, shopping, eating, walking back to work. It was a peaceful scene of a small American town, the kind that Hollywood likes to create.
As I was walking through I noticed that up ahead a group had gathered and was growing larger. I moved closer to the commotion and saw that a woman in dirty, tattered clothing was pacing angrily in front of a store. She had a sign that looked like it had seen many months in the sun and in the rain. Occasionally she would yell angrily and make violent motions while tears streamed down her face. She talked but made no sense.
Police started to walk in from all around to take up strategic positions. The onlookers were pushed back to a safe location while they continued to talk quietly and stretch their necks for some kind of view. One of the cops started to talk to the distraught woman, making hand motions to show he meant no harm.
I pulled away from the crowd and walked over to a policeman who was standing alone. He turned out to be the Chief.
“What’s going on,” I asked?
“Oh, it’s just another Flash developer who’s down and out and blames HTML 5,” the Chief replied, “we’re going to try and get her to safety and hopefully recovery.”
We both looked on as his co-workers inched their way forward towards the demonstrator. Their arms outstretched, they grabbed her while she kicked and cried. As they got her to calm down the crowd started to disperse and then the buzz of the alarm clock pulled instantly away from the scene, down Main street, over the uneven sidewalk, and back to reality.
Have I just foretold the future? I’m not sure, but I can tell you this much: it’s time to put radishes back on the cuisine quarantine list.