I feel there is such a thing as a collective conciousness. Ideas live around us all the time and multiple people can tap into them. I am documenting this dream (with mild hole plugging) in hopes that someone else witnessed this insanity and can tell me how this story ends.
I had a dream:
I was at a party. It was a big shiny house with high ceilings. The shiny, happy people were mingling about sipping champagne and eating cake. I was in my usual spot, sitting in the corner behind a small trap drum set, staring at peoples faces, as I tend to do. One face in particular stood out. It was a shy, meek face that seemed to glow inside the frame created from her hard angled haircut. Her hair was black, her lipstick red, her eyes blue. She was sipping her champagne through a straw.
The party was a demo for a new, illegal, virtual reality drug. Everyone was off in themed rooms “getting high” on V.R. It was a gateway drug, literally. This suped-up V.R was illegal because it opened a full gateway for not only people to peer into but to step into. While their REAL world bodies sat blissfully immobile, people “took the plunge” into a digitally manipulated creation. The game was called TRUTH. All one had to do was strap on a super sleek silver head band and put a small white tic-tack sized computer chip under their tongue. Moments later they were off, 100% imerssed in a land of ecstasy and limitless creation.
After packing up gear (yes musicians still pack gear in their dreams) myself and the band mates found a quiet corner where we smoked and gossiped about the parties guests. After a few moments we strapped on and took a “dip”.
The moment we entered there was chaos. The full immersion nto a new dimension felt surreal. My body seemed to be original with a few subconscious personal upgrades taken into consideration (I had Popeye sized forearms). We had been prepared for a world of ecstasy and limitless creation, instead our eyes fell upon a world of war, fire, blood and dirt. Just then, appearing inches from my face, was the woman. Her hair was black with ash, her lips were red from cracked and bleeding sores, her blue eyes now bloodshot red.
“You will not be leaving” she spoke sternly as she slit my throat. I wasn’t fully aware of what dying in this prototype V.R meant but I know I felt fear for my life. This life. The REAL world life. All life everywhere. The woman then immediately, calmly and tenderly began to treat my slashed throat. As she did, she recanted an emotional tale which diminished my anger and fear replacing it with confusion and questions.
“His name was Max” she spoke as if it were a prayer recanted hundreds of times daily. “He was sixteen when he was hit by a car on his skateboard and killed. That’s what THEY told me. The world you came from is not real. THEY have hijacked it and held droves of humanity captive to do their evil bidding. Tonight, your gateway drug party has been hijacked and we are your liberators. This is the world Called TRUTH and we have proof.”
“I am Max” boasted a strong, assertive young man to my right. He was attending to the cut throat of my REAL world bandmate. The boy looked to be of late teen years with black hair and blue eyes.
Then I woke up.
