October 26, 2004

• I'm sitting here trying to write anything. I want to write more
  writerly stuff, instead of just linking. But I've been learning a bunch
  about the stock photo biz, and for me, learning about something means
  being obsessed about it. So there's not so much room for writerly things inside my head.

  Except that last night ('night' being a relative term) I had a really
  funny dream. Funny in some ways, creepy in others, like a good Twilight
  Zone episode from back when Rod Serling was writing them.

  I was in a grocery store, with some friends, and we were looking for
  something specific; I can't recall what it was. We got to the produce
  aisle and the produce was all unripe or rotten, or overpriced. There
  was just something wrong with everything there. We started pointing
  this out to each other, and noticed that there were plenty of customers
  buying this crap.

  The manager came over. He said, "Excuse me folks, but could you please
  step this way?" He motioned to the back of the store. I turned to look,
  and when I turned back, he was gone, along with my friends. I went to
  the back of the store, and there was a nurse, holding a huge syringe,
  who I just barely saw as she rounded a corner.

  I looked at all the other shoppers... They had band-aids on their
  necks! They were shopping happily, eager to consume the produce before
  them. They were having discussions with each other about the relative
  merit of Brand A over Brand B, of Granny Smith versus Jonagold, of
  canteloupe over honeydew.

  I ran to the front of the store, the checkout area. The manager was
  chasing me down. He cornered me behind the customer service counter,
  holding something in the one hand behind his back. I saw my friends at
  the checkout lane, swiping their card through the credit machine,
  chatting happily with the cashier.

  I was cornered! I had no allies! What would I do? The manager
  approached steadily, a genuinely congenial smile on his face. "Don't
  worry. This'll be over in an instant, and then things will be much
  better."

  In a panic, I looked around. The PA system! I grabbed the microphone,
  pushed the button, and shrieked "Don't buy this food! You've all been
  drugged! It's food for God's sake! You can grow it in your yard!"

  The manager leaned forward. "They can't hear you..."

  Ask anyone who knows me, and they'll say, 'Yeah, that's a dream Homer would have.'

  • 9:23 am
  • 5 Comments