Thursday, September 20, 2007

In which Superman is kind of a dick.

Early in the week I had a crazy vivid dream.

It was the late 50’s, and I was on a farm in pedal pushers and a pony tail. I wanted to go to the big city, so I hitched a ride in the back of an old orange Ford pickup.

When I got to the city I went into this business/housing complex that was black and shiny and modern, but modern in the way that people in the 50’s expected the future to look. And as I was walking around men with clear, bubble-like helmets came and hijacked the building complex. The whole thing rose up from the earth bringing an inversed pyramid of dirt and broken pipes into the air with it. A clear bubble emerged over the complex and we were in space.

Luckily for me, as I was plotting my escape, a profoundly slovenly Cat Woman came skipping down the darkened hall. She was in black flat keds with scuffs, faded yoga pants, a ribbed black turtleneck covered by an off the shoulder Flashdance style sweater with yarn that was not evenly spun. Upon her head was a mask with crooked ears. She carried a long whip and together we somehow escaped back to Earth.

I ended up back on the farm. Large clear crystals were growing out of the ground quickly and violently. Clark Kent came over and ordered me to build his Fortress of Solitude. I picked up the heavy crystals and tried to build the fortress, but the crystals wouldn’t stick. They were like magnets aligned to the same poles. Superman, still dressed as Clark Kent: 50’s farm guy, came over and stuck two crystals together and looked at me like I was a complete moron, “See? Like this.”

“But they won’t stick for me…”

“That is because you aren’t doing it right.”

Then he walked away in disgust to the sound of my alarm.