Adventures With Thrust Blocks

Salutations readers,
Wow. 2 POSTS IN ONE DAY! There is just so much exciting stuff going on. Anyway this on actually is a dream.


At around 4:15 this morning I woke up with  no dream to share. But I was determined to satisfy my loyal readership, so I returned to my slumber to see if I could maybe get a dream out. And it happened. Bigtime. I know I say this every post, but this dream blows all the others out of the water in terms of ludicrousity and sheer absurdity. Here it is.

I was walking back to my dorm, and someone runs up to me with a drawing in hand. It looks like a combination of a thrust block and a hot-water-on-demand heater. This kid tells me it is vitally important to deliver these plans to the CIA. I respond to this request without question.

Suddenly I am lying in my bed back at home. I glance up at my clock-radio to see that it is around 12:30 on Christmas morning. I try and go back to sleep, when my younger sister bursts into my room yelling "CHRISTMAS!" I tell her that it is time to go to sleep and not a time for excitement, but she is having none of it. She goes on to tell me how her friend is applying to the 'Simón Bolívar School of Music' in upstate New York.

My younger sister shows me her friend's audition tape for this selective program. The audition is in the form of a documentary and it begins with this skinny kid with long wavy hair standing on a rope bridge. He goes on to explain how old this bridge is and then starts to do cartwheels on it, narrowly missing a gaping hole in one of the planks in the bridge.

By the time this movie is over, my parents explain that before I can eat breakfast, I must construct a model rocket. I find an old rocket kit and start to assemble it. When I'm almost done I realize that two of the four stabilizers on the bottom of the craft are broken beyond repair. Looking around for materials to replace the damaged fins, I notice that there is a plant nearby. Instinctively I reach for the long, green leaves of the plant and place them where the stabilizers would go, but for they don't fit.

As if there was a change of scene in a movie, I now find myself in a dark conference room with a man in a suit who looks kind of like Dick Cheney at the other end of a long, mahogany table. He looks directly at me and says. Liberal Conservatism will privitize the CIA.

And then my dream ends.