More importantly, how do I feel about flour and white turtlenecks?

I tend to go through dreamless phases in my life. I’m not meaning pointless moments of progress-less limbo (though I do have those too). Sometimes my subconsciousness fails to give up the goods and sleep feels like a necessary waste of time (yes, I understand the inherent contradiction there). I’m disappointed that my body requires slumber (time that could be spent wasted on the internet), but every now and again my mind produces an in-flight movie that makes it all worthwhile.

In the realms of somnolence last night, my girlfriend and I were skewing peripatetic (sorry, just learned the word and promised myself I’d try remember it. Does “itinerant” sound better?). Having left Toronto, we were searching for a new home and means to upkeep our nomadic lifestyle. We found ourselves in San Fran (because dream logic cares not for green cards), in front of an old villa with a blue door. Our knock was greeted by a bunch of young men, bespeckled and seemingly nerdsome. I remember the guy dressed in a white turtleneck to be particularly tall. He brought us to a modest room where we could set down our belongings before getting to work. The work? We were smack-bang in the middle of a Magic the Gathering finance incubator. Market speculation, blog posts and webwide buyouts were to be our new livelihood. Naturally, I was thrilled. This combined my enjoyment of Magic the Gathering with… the Bay area? My girlfriend was less thrilled, but work was better than the alternative.

It was interesting to see how their operation worked. Monitors filled the space, screens fixed on different finance sites with up to the minute stats and figures. There were strategy blogs and forums as far as the eye could see. There was a scrolling LED sign running above the monitor wall indicating funds and transactions. Even conscious, I marvel at the elaborate concept and wonder how farfetched this dream was. In any case, the work was pretty exciting, shouts filling the air at all times. Lots of Dick Dastardly style rubbing of hands with glee. Given that my girlfriend was the only female in the operation, there was a concerning over-abundance of lecherous advances and sexist comments. Don’t worry, she put white turtleneck dude in his place.

After a day of rampant speculation and nerdery, we desired a late night snack. Under the cover of darkness we hustled a ton of ingredients into our room to cook up pancakes. We gouged ourselves on fat stacks of delicious flapjacks and toppings, then rolled into bed (as an aside, isn’t it kind of weird when you sleep in your dream?). I awoke to an alabaster room. Every surface was covered in a thick layer of flour. Somehow carrying the bag in pitch black surroundings was enough for my girlfriend to drop unbelievable amounts of flour everywhere. More puzzled than irritated (and thinking of any excuse to not have to clean it myself), my attention was diverted when I heard a pained cooing.

I looked to the side of the room by the dresser to see a pigeon with mangled wings. Obviously distressed, it must’ve somehow (I still have no idea) become distracted and entangled by the excessive flour. Flying away was not an option, nor was I able to nurse it back to health. There was nothing to do but put it out of its misery. My girlfriend woke and surveyed the situation. Without a second glance at the ludicrous amounts of flour, she handed me a selection of rocks and told me to get to it. I noticed a large rock in my hand, glanced back at the pigeon and decided I couldn’t just grab the thing and bash its head in. So I wimped out and began to stone the thing, Jesus-style. With a safe distance, I hurled rocks in the hope that one would crush its head or irreparably injure the poor bird. Its demented squawks of anguish did little to strengthen my resolve and I felt generally shit until finally a particularly jagged rock caught it right in the beak. With a sickening snap, the deeds was done. Stunned and a little queasy, I looked down at my hands in horror. The door to our room burst open, White Turtleneck was standing there, barking at us to get to work. The shock was enough to rouse me to wakefulness.

In an aimless day full of fun meandering I’ve seen two dead pigeons at the side of the road, innards visible for the world to acknowledge. It’s kind of creeping me out.

Do I even want to sleep tonight? I could spend that time perusing MtG finance blogs instead.


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