Dream Journal: Febuary 18, 2016

The Setting: An ark multi-generational spaceship traveling through deep space. The ship does not have windows. Lighting inside the spaceship is dim and sparse. You have the sense there may be a shortage of light bulbs, as a supply, like anything else in space, need to be carefully rationed.

The inside of the ship is very low rent.  It looks more like a series of conjoined indoor gymnasiums than anything else. Plastic monkey bars, frayed rope climb to ceiling, tattered gym mats, faded red rubber dodgeballs, etc.

One of the gymnasiums has a very large tree growing up from the wooden floor, with vines roping down. The tree room is there for oxygen production.

The low rent look is underlined by the fact the entire crew sport unkempt, threadbare clothes and scraggly beards and hair.

[Note: We never see the flashy special effects of deep space travel, nor the ship exterior at all, it is conveyed through dialog, and maybe a piece of signage that indicates “this is a spaceship.”]

The crew is trying to calculate the appropriate degree of give and take between getting to destination; rationing versus staying hungry versus dying of starvation. There is underlying discomfort and boredom from everyone, which colors every discussion and interaction. The trip has driving everyone into a state of lethargic apathy.

Crew is about six dozen people.

[It strikes me as strange in hindsight that this is a multi-generational Ark ship but there are no children. At 44, I am one of the youngest passengers, most are in their late fifties or older.]

A ship meeting is held with the entire crew. The question is who in the ship should lead. There is the feeling that the ship NEEDS someone who will be elevated to sainthood status, and this saint will be the final arbiter that gets everyone home.

Trick of it is, there is a growing contingent of the ship population that believes in order for the sainthood to be legitimate, the saint must no longer be alive in body. Thus physically dead, but still alive in Spirit, as it is the Spirit that will endeavor on, to bring the tribe home.

Somehow, I get nominated to be placed in this position of ship’s saint.

Up until this point, I managed the chickens on the ship.

These space chickens are odd things. As a matter of efficiency they have been genetically designed to slow cook themselves over the course of their very brief lifespans. They have 4 legs, so there are more drumsticks per chicken, and thus no shortage of drumsticks for the population. They have translucent, gummy, edible feathers. You can grab these chicken from the cages and eat them whenever you feel the urge. As everyone has been eating nothing but chicken for years, we have all grown tired of the taste.

I am not pleased at the idea of being saint, nor a fan of the “being dead” in order to fulfill my role as saint. An advocate tries to convince me, repeatedly, that it is for the best and with an ever growing, alarmingly violent, fervor.

I refer to the advocate as “Beardy”, which can get a mite confusing as every man on board has a beard.  Beardy is a short man with a threadbare green winter down jacket and overalls. He resembles a homeless Bob Hoskins.

I worry that Beardy will eventually kill me in one of his impassioned states and that the ship will end up getting me as a saint as a matter of course.

Beardy and I get into a discussion, which quickly elevates into a heated argument, then fight, which moves into a chase scene throughout the ship. I see more and more people taking Beardy’s side, based on the numbers who try and stop me from running away. He is getting more and more wide eyed, crazy, frothing at the mouth that I am the saint the ship needs; I am the saint the ship deserves.

Someone hands Beardy a rubber mallet.

I manage to get away. I think, “how long would it take for Beardy to kill me with a rubber mallet?” and with dawning horror, not liking the answer one bit.

I manage to get to the gymnasium room with the tree, and climb up into the high branches. Beardy does not like heights, so he remains on the floor below. He sits down with a loud thump and throws the mallet across the room. It bounces and settles to the floor in a series of diminishing thumps.

Beardy waits for me to come down. More crew members come into the room and stare upward at me in rapt silence.

Everyone.

Staring.

It is an immediate wake up.

I cannot remember any of the dialogue, but scribble down notes on everything else.

[From a dream interpretation this one is pretty rich. Anyone care to comment? How do you think it should end?]

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One thought on “Dream Journal: Febuary 18, 2016

  1. Hello Robert Goj Allen,

    Thank you for sharing this interesting dream, it is rare to read such a detailed dream about being inside a spaceship and about life on the spaceship, the few dreams that I have had inside spaceships have been very short and less detailed except for a few dreams; and one of those dreams was on a very small spaceship on a trip to a small planet, the trip was not that long, and so we reached the small planet during the dream.

    The special chickens in your dream sound very interesting and creative.

    -John Jr

    Like

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