Last night I woke because the back of my balls were itching something fierce. Applied medicated powder, nothing happened, so I took a shower and went to sleep on the couch atop my bathrobe.
When I finally slept, there were dreams but I became fully conscious of my dreams when I “awoke” in front of a large, Victorian-style building which was more window than structure. I walked in through the back, since there appeared to be a party happening there, and saw all eyes upon me following my every step. A maître d approached me, gently pointing out the exit since I clearly didn’t belong there. Looking around, I noticed everyone had stiff faces and large eyes while moving stiffly at their tables. Women dressed up as Egyptian goddesses holding ankhs, rushes of papyrus, and whatnot were performing a dance along one side of the room. “Uh, I’m here to see my friend Steve” was my response as I pointed off to the side. The maître d nodded and stepped back obseqiously. I had no idea if I even knew a Steve in this crowd of seemingly sentient automata.
An automata dressed as a flapper flagged me down, gave me the business in a very kind way about how her automata friends were very cliquish but she welcomed having a human join her and her friend. Her friend’s appearance is lost to my memory.
I pulled out my smartphone, keyed in, and was greeted with a pop-up to enter the member code for this particular club. I tried several times. Fortunately there was no lock-out and many mistakes could be made. I looked up, saw a brown-stained carving of an ornate fish next to the numbers 5429. The numbers would swap around every time I blinked making me think these were the pin but I didn’t know their order. Still, I had a patron and wouldn’t have to worry about being “accepted”.
The Egyptian goddess dancers began walking around the club with their papyri, asking for donations like it was church. I declined as did my hosts. The lights dimmed, a waiter came over to deliver a bar of silver and some other strange food to the table. I picked up the hunk of silver, felt it was very soft and a little slick, giving the impression this was a colored piece of chocolate. Biting in, it was chocolate but flavorless much to my dismay.
Around that time I began to panic over my backpack, there were things inside of it that I was going to need and I didn’t know where the backpack had gone off to. I stood up, wandered around, found the backpack, brought it back to the now-empty table, rummaged through every pocket unable to find my necessities, but the second or third passes through the backpack pockets showed they were in there all the while.
And I waited for the return of my new automata friends.
Now, in the words of Zayas, the automata became “nudge-y”. My welcome was worn out, but they were trying as politely as possible to remove me from the premises. I don’t recall the rest, but I woke up.
While I wrote down the dream, the analysis percolating in my head was lost. Possibly caught in the current of my writing and washed out into the sea of wakefulness. Inshallah, I may remember later on today.
Just still struck by the sight of all the automata blinking in unison. Every. Single. Time.