Image via Wikipediaby James Jarvisfrom Trail of An Urban Nomad
I had a vivid nightmare a couple of weeks ago and the edges of it are still bothering me. I dreamed there was a big flood in Los Angeles and I was killed in a forklift accident.
That part was normal. Just your standard jumbled dream, my subconscious mind's attempt to file away the events of the day using its bizarre iconological filing system.
The next part was too vivid. It was like the hazy remembrances of a UFO abduction. Seconds after my death by forklift, my spiritual body was vacuum sealed into a metal coffin with a welder's peephole, an intercom and some sort of forced feeding tube locked into my mouth. My metal coffin was being lowered slowly through a chute into a vast underground laboratory where I was greeted by a lab-coated person who turned up the knob on the outside of my transportation coffin to force coffee down my throat.
"You'll want to be alert for the first moments of THIS," he snickered. "This is my special blend," he said about the coffee being forced down my throat, "Old Nick's Kristenacht ."
Then the front part of my coffin popped open but I was still strapped tightly into the box. Various intrusive surgeries were performed on me. Drills going in my skull and such. Didn't particularly hurt.
Then I was lowered further down into the main reception hall. Dante's Inferno looks pastoral compared to this hell I was being lowered into. There was lots of heavy machinery. Heavy machinery everywhere. Up, down, all around. It was much, much worse than "Metropolis".
It took me a while to figure out, but the whole place was one giant machine. It had paths through the huge, moving, clanking, whirling machine, paths through the sharp metal that people had to walk through to get anywhere, but you had to negotiate those paths very carefully else a whizzing machine part would whiz past and chop off a couple of fingers or an ear. All the machine parts were designed to be as unsafe to humans as possible.
I was greeted by a shop steward who gave me directions to the classification center where he explained that I would be classified and assigned my permanent duties for all eternity. Apparently, in Hell, a person is rewarded for the capacity for evil he displayed during the earth life. His reward is a better job classification. Points are taken away from the Hell Civil Service entrance exam for all the kindnesses a person displayed on earth.
The giant machine didn't seem to have any real purpose. It just spewed noxious fumes up to the living on earth. From bits and pieces of conversations I was hearing around me, my impression was that working on the machine was just busywork, just something to do for a few thousand years until . . .
I was following a couple of guides through the treacherous machine paths when a band of rebels from The Resistance hijacked me away from my guides through a false wall in a machine part. For some reason I remember the name of their underground organization. It was The Sons of Chapultepec. Once they got me inside, the leader of the rebels started examining my "reward" implants. I had been given implants in my forehead, neck and fingers.
My rebel examiner checked an implant and called out to the other rebels the technical term for whatever the implant did.
"Turbo Enhancer," he said as if I wasn't even in the room, "Yeah, we might be able to use this guy. Couple of fragulators. Okay. Entoaster. Good. Electromag Stimulator. Excellent." I felt like I might be up for auction soon. A buzz of conversation about my parts was circulating around the room.
Then he looked at my fingers.
"JESUS! He's got Densilators! In EVERY fingertip! They gave him TEN Densilators!"
The room hushed.
Then I woke up. Damn! What the hell is a Densilator and why had I been rewarded with ten of them? I woke up feeling like I had really been to the real, actual, bonified place; an out-of-body abduction. A precognitive out-of-body alien abduction to Hell. Brrrrrr! I've gotta mend my evil ways. And watch out for forklifts.
Tags: alien abduction, densilator, vivid nightmare, L.A. dream, iconological filing system, UFO abduction, fear of forklifts, feeding tube, marquisdejolie
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