I’ve been dreaming a lot these days. This morning Jupiter was really close, like if I climbed a mountain to the top, I could jump out of this earthly realm and find a nice vacation home in the Great Red Spot. Also I wanted to take some pictures to instagram for friends back home.
Anyways, it appeared that the ideal spot for the jump was off a particular peak across this wide basin, perhaps 300 dream miles wide. The Advent of Jupiter also threw the folks living in my trailer cart town into a Burning Man like frenzy. I have never been to a Burning Man (in real life) or any other music festival, but if it’s anything like what I saw this morning, I will remind myself to bring extra TP.
Something else about such large parties… It gives me the willies. Not that there’s anything really wrong with painting bodies and naked prancing about set to music (totally allowed in my new house’s rec room, the Carnal-val), but in groups one never really knows when the spark of madness can turn peaceful hippies into a pranky mob. When I left trailer town I could sense there was something amiss, but it was one of those back-of-the-brain feelings rather than a full frontal lobe observation.
And then I looked back…. PS. You should never look back.
I think they were witches, and/or zombies? Not sure if they were converted Burning Men or if Jupiter had some astral, demonic summoning powers. Either way they had a terrific human-sacrifice vibe about them… and they were chasing me! so dream-me moseyed liked the fastest flightless fatty he could be. Zoom-zoom across the desert basin (while take a few nice photos), past the dry river bed, and up the cliffs towards the mountain…
The witch/zombies were fast on my heels. Being a film student (now film pro; I graduated, baby!) there were a lot of those close shots, narrow escapes followed by inexplicable new-found distance in the very next shot, inexplicable given the comparative rates of our vastly difference velocities. At one point I reach a new level on the cliff, turned around and rock-smashed a witch’s face, which obviously only made her angrier. I apologized since a rock to the face isn’t exactly enchante, but I kept running anyways when…
The cloak, the staff, the hair, the benevolence! I had to ask:
I’ve never been very celebrity-crazy, or had even a mild case of celebrity goo-gaga. But by saving my life, I think the man in the hood might’ve wanted to be just mildly acquainted. At the very least, I ought to thank him properly. So sir Gandalf…
And this is when I woke up. I never climbed the top of that mountain.