Reply To: The Random Post Thread (Game Potential)
Some dreams are meant to be broadcast. Some threads lend themselves to it. And some people will read anything. You know who you are.
The location is a packed school/town hall where my parents and I have seats on the stage next to a large flower arrangement. George W Bush is running the proceedings, which turn out to be the occasion of my execution by electric chair. I end up in the rather ordinary-looking chair and the electricy passes through my body. It's not all that bad, or in fact terminal, and afterwards everybody is having drinks in the foyer. My old high school headmaster ambles past and starts riffing about how he could never pronounce my name, at which point my father interjects that we have just changed the spelling, if it's any help. Oh, wait, there's a second show – maybe this time they'll really kill me off. In chair again, counting what might be my last moments, and I end up with two formulated regrets: a) I never wrote a letter to my wife to explain how this came to pass, and b) why the hell didn't I think of asking if I could play the piano while they electrocuted me? It would have been so much more theatrical.
^Z
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and all that jazz