Weird, because I had such a PLEASANT Friday.
I've set up for a trip to RI to meet with the big client. I found out that the control of another project is passing into the hands of people I think can do it real well. I spent two and half hours in the dark yesterday afternoon watching the new Harry Potter movie (quick review - sweet and spooky and wonderful - if you are aware of how story unspools, it is a nice, coherent bunch of plots). And Poker Night at Phil's, and though the pots were running pricier than I am used to, I ended up in a long and polite discussion on religion and rationalism with a magician named Master Payne.
And then a harrowing nightmare that evening. No idea where it came from, or what repressed oogie-boogies of the subconscious are at work.
In the dream we were at a mall, shooting off guns - I'm not a gun-fancier, but the pieces were heavy and comfortable in my hands. Also present were some friends, as well as Indiana Jones, GIJoes, and Marvel Super Heroes in their civilian identities (a collection of boy-toys, I got that part). In the middle of the shooting a group of them drifted off while I was putting holes in golden coins held up at arm's length by Indy. I go looking for the rest, and they are in one of the stores, looking somber. I taunt them for not being happy and shooting things, and one points to the painted sign that had just been hung up. New Orleans had been hit by atomic device.
And I wake up sweating and breathing hard. Got the licensing tie-in angle, but why New Orleans? Its one of the few cities in the country that I've never been to, and I don't think I have any friends there right now? The idea of the frippery of what I do for a living in the face of darker matters is not lost on me, but that's hardly my subconcious at work. Is there something else working here? Maybe.
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