An activity best done while wide awake, or at least not, as I learned, while sound asleep and dreaming.
Look, anyone coming to my Israeli site here to get a feel for the question ‘Will there be a War?’ will find me continuing life as if ‘No’, (except for maybe stockpiling a couple day’s fresh water and beer.) Achmi Blow-job MacMud would, on the other hand, be well-advised to pile up rocks in the backyard (flint works well) in the off chance his ugly skeleton isn’t incinerated to the last molecule and he needs a knife to ‘clean-and-dress’ rat carcasses among the Stone-Age rubble.
Yup, the whole deal puts me in mind of the ‘Enola Gay’ and Hiroshima. So much so, that falling asleep, I continued, as is my wont, to investigate the various pertinent(?) details in depth.
“Hmmm,” I snored to myself, “I’ll have to just Wiki that name, Enola, and bingo, I’ll have a definitive answer.”
One of the first search results was the OED, the Oxford English Dictionary online, and just as I was about to click on it, the voices started. Yes, again. Some British dude, intent on making me feel young and stupid, droning on and on: “Righto, chum. The OED and all that rot!”
So hey, when the voices are that adamant, and with me in my weakened state, I gave him a chance to lay out his alternative data source. He suggested an oddball site, on page 7 of the search results: “humane_god.net” I could already hear the barkings from the web-site at that point, but I plunged onward, as only dreamers do.
So far I had: ENOLA? OED? OR HUMANE GOD.NET? ROT? OR….I knew as soon as I clicked on the site, like the igno-second when you stupidly download a virus, that I was in trouble.
I was transported to some stinking horse-fly-infested Texas stadium, where, sitting on sweltering bleachers, I watched teams of dogs, a dozen or so, maybe a few less, do just awful thing to each other, two against one, against the clock. Hoses, bags, yelping victims, some obscure point system, none of it made any sense. And at a certain point, luckily, I emerged from the nightmare long enough to realize that I was the only spectator, indeed the only non-canine, in the whole dream/nightmare. As in, ‘yeah, I can just leave, click out, and go to OED like I wanted to in the first place.’ That felt empowering. And that’s just what I did.
It’s sad, ain’t it, how much the digital wet dream has skewed our consciousnesses? Damn, I used to dream, not too many decades ago, about real stuff: muskrats, me, running through the corn rows. finding long-lost pots of gold, or nubile females just aching to be full-filled. Nowadays it’s all virtual battles between virtual data banks. How far we’ve fallen.
At any rate, I did manage to discover how the awful palin-virus snuck into my cerebellum. Reversing the above letters, I ‘read the writing on the wall’, so to speak: ‘TEN DOG ENAMUH RODEO, ALONE.’
A more careful and alert dreamer might have noticed. I didn’t, but I am, as a result, considering cutting down on spicy, thought-provoking foods before bedtime.