Log in

No account? Create an account
the girl with violets in her lap [userpic]

August 5th, 2008 (11:05 am)

current mood: good

I had the greatest dream last night. λ and I were in some sort of boarding school, or something (why? I don’t know. Do I care? No), when we discovered a set of portable buttons we could press (you know the Staples “easy button”? Like that) that functioned as time machines. We could go anywhere in time or space that we wanted to go, and we spent a merry old night decade- and century-hopping. We were shy at first and so spent a lot of time hovering around in decades not too far gone, buying up vintage clothes and smirking at people who didn’t know how to use the Internet yet. Then we hopped into the future and found out that the current recession will subside in 2040. Hey, guys, great news! Only 32 years more to go!

Anyway, I was really excited about taking a trip back to the island of Lesbos in 600whatever BC and getting to meet Sappho, but I couldn’t remember the exact years that she was there so I had to look it up on the Internet. I was full of grand plans to hang out mostly naked with her and all her gal pals, eating grapes or figs or whatever it was they ate, and I was determined to tell her to be sure to get her poetry stored in a safe place which was NOT the library of Alexandria. But while I was still futzing around on the Internet to figure out what year I was aiming for, my alarm went off, darn the luck. So I never got to meet Sappho or immeasurably enrich the history of world literature. But I did have fun buying up vintage clothes. So there’s that.

You know, usually my dreams are awful. I don’t mean that they’re always nightmares, because they’re not necessarily -- I probably have about as many nightmares as the average person. But my dreams are always so weighty. They’re all loaded down with heavy symbolism and water flooding everywhere and dilapidated houses from my youth and people I love saying bizarre disturbing things to me, and when I wake up I’m plunged immediately into super-srs dream analysis. Which, you know, can be an entertaining intellectual exercise, but it gets a little old to wake up to every morning. So last night was a delightful change, really. I got to spend the whole night pressing a little button and going wherever I wanted to do, doing whatever I wanted to do, with all the time in the world (literally) and no responsibility to anyone!

Interestingly, I’m just realizing now that I didn’t go back to that hotel elevator in 1965 to catch Julie and Carol making out. I am at once disappointed that I didn’t get to see it even in my sleep, and proud of myself that apparently my subconscious is more concerned with preserving Sappho’s poetry than watching Julie and Carol go at it.

Finally, the first thing I thought when my alarm went off was “That’s okay, I’ll just press the button and go back to the weekend and sleep for awhile longer.” Dude, this is totally an unsung benefit of time travel. Marty McFly and Doc spend all this time trying to fix Marty’s future and stop Biff from taking over the world with a sports almanac and make sure Marty’s parents get together so he can get born and keep Doc from getting shot by terrorists and whatever, but they never go back to last weekend to catch up on sleep and maybe play a few games of poker. What’s up with that?


Posted by: the girl with violets in her lap (slammerkinbabe)
Posted at: August 5th, 2008 04:09 pm (UTC)

I'm pretty sure the anti-Shakespeareans would accuse you of being an expert graphologist with srs Photoshop chops. And then would go back to being the tinfoil-hatters of the literary world.

Shakespeare's autograph would be pretty awesome though.

9 Read Comments