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Post-Modern Drunk: City of Dreams
There's a city I go to in my dreams, once or twice a week. It's an amalgam of all the cities and places I've ever been: set on the coast of a beautiful Greek island, with fjords and forests within easy reach of the city limits. The museums are great, the architecture the greatest mix of Roman, Parisian, Czech, and Thai buildings. The parks are wide, open, and dogs are allowed to roam free. The light rail makes a delightful alternative to the bewildering freeway system, which sometimes stretches ten to fifteen levels up with intricate cloverleaf exit ramps that seem to expand fractally when I need to get off to find that gas station that inexplicably looks like my childhood home.
It's a complicated place, relentlessly shifting and changing as all dream (and, for that matter, real) cities do. Sometimes it has an amusement park next to the observatory on the shore, sometimes Mt. Vesuvius crops up in the middle of the main park. Occasionally the strip malls pop up next to the archeological museum. But it's always the same city. As Pony said just today, "everyone in your dream is actually yourself," and while it seems a little blithe and simple for dream people, it's definitely true for dream locations. I don't get to travel much these days during my waking hours, but my dream city is like a trip to Thailand, Eastern Europe, and the Mediterranean all wrapped up in one.
I've been to this city (which I've never named) constantly throughout my life, and it keeps unfolding. I thought I knew my way around it, no matter how much it's shifted and evolved over the course of my life, so I guess that's why I was a bit shocked as to why Dorf and my little brother appeared in my dream and started acting as my tour guide through the place. I'm even more shocked as to why they'd want to antagonize the friendly white supremacists who had set up a dance club in the cable car we used to get up to the summit overlooking the town. I'm sure Dorf and Scott had good reasons for doing so, but they were such friendly Neo-Nazis, and it almost seemed a shame to interrupt their heiling and headbanging.
I sure am glad Dorf had those extra bicycles on her, though, because otherwise we wouldn't have been able to outrun their goose-stepping pursuit.
The ride in the park was quite pleasant, though I'm still confused why you dropped me off at the haunted house nestled in the woods. Anyway, thanks, Dorf!
