Last night I had this dream that I went over to that Coffee Bean across from my office, except it was this really unique, social landmark type of cafe with a red exterior. They were going to tear it down to make way for some commercial developments, and people were protesting. I saw Coffee Bean guy and that overtalkative (and self-promoting) lawyer who’s always there, as well as one other recurring character who I always see there. They had signs and I noticed how it was funny that even though everyone was chanting something, CB guy was just quietly holding up his sign because, you know, he doesn’t talk in real life.

So I was there with my boyfriend and my brother, except my boyfriend was played by Brett, my cinematographer. I’m thinking, yeah, this place is cool and it would be great if they didn’t tear it down, when we all look up and we see what looks like a spaceship amongst the dark storm clouds disappearing into the upper layers of the atmosphere. The crowd gets electric, like we can’t believe what we just saw, and I remember thinking, I wish I had my camera. We were all just amazed that we saw this thing that we could tell our friends (and the tabloids) about. The thing looked like one of those helicopters with dual rotors up top and in the rear, but much larger and flatter on top (and without rotors). But then, before we could really process seeing that spacecraft, another one came down. I noted how fluid it moved, particularly laterally, not like a helicopter or any kind of craft we had. It came down above us and we all got scared. I remember thinking, this was a huge moment in human history…that I was experiencing an exact moment when we as a collective interacted with another type of being and this was an undeniably monumental piece of reality. It was huge, knowing that for a fact, there had been contact made and from this point forward, human history and existence would never be the same. But then this huge red beam came out of it and it was washing over people, shortcircuiting their hearts.

We all ran and I felt the most terrifying thing I have ever felt–the knowledge that I was going to die very soon, and that there was no way around it.

I managed to stop the dream but not wake up, and I spent the rest of my sleeptime going over the meaning the dream, even though I wasn’t awake. I thought about it’s important not to live in a large city as they are most susceptible to being targets of an attack. And that my brother was safe because he was in Fremont, and Fremont was a suburb. I made a mental note that I needed to move out of the city ASAP. I also thought about how my brother gets when he gets scared…he locks up and starts screaming and you can’t reason with him. I realized that realistically, it would come down to a choice when an attack came down–of staying with him and dying, and of having to leave him behind.

When I finally woke up in the morning, I was pretty freaked out. The dream was so vivid and realistic, and most disturbing of all–rational in its “post dream” analysis of the dream’s message, that it hung over me the rest of the day and I found myself lost in thought, thinking about it.

I’m not saying the dream means that we are in danger of an alien attack. But it did make me think of how sooner or later, we are going to have to be introduced to a world outside of our planet and make contact with other intelligent, sentient species, and as has been a theme in human history, there will be conflicts over dominance and a race to find which group has the better technology when it comes to warfare to dominate the other side into submission. There will need to be an ambassador who represents the world, and of course, the U.S. will want to play that part or be a large part of that group. I would not want anyone from the Bush administration representing us, with hidden agendas and a dominate first before being dominated. Why does our first instinct have to be one of suspicion and fear? That’s why all these movies about aliens involve us being attack. I feel like if they attacked us, it’d be because we’re scared assholes who did something first. If they’re so much more advanced than us, I don’t think they would care enough about us to attack us, just like we don’t attack ant hills that we see in our backyards unless they’re doing something intrusive or biting us. We really don’t give a fuck about them.

In other news, a huge cockroach landed on me today, but it flew away as quickly as it landed.

DRunk Post!

So I’m here for the show. That last post wasn’t supposed to post since I tried to save the draft when my coworker came to get me for breakfast, but I checked the blog and lo and behold,there it was. Sorry for the boring post. It wasn’t finished.

The show has been non-eventful, other than many, many, many middle aged overweight men staring at my breasts as they walk by. It’s very obvious and annoying, but I get the opportunity to pitch my company and product so maybe I can actually convert some sales out of it. It’s a security show so it’s mostly ex-military/law enforcement people and salesmen/computer programmers. For some reason, they act starved for the sight of women.

I was accused of being standoffish and non-involved in social activities outside of work when it came to coworkers, so I headed to Pleasure Island with them to spend “quality time.” Pleasure Island is this area in Orlando that’s like Disneyland for adults. The last time I heard a place described as Disneyland for adults, it was a sex club in downtown Los Angels, where I ran into this guy I went on 1 date with. Totally awkward. And yes, I declined a 2nd date with him because he smelled funny. And then, here he was at a sex club, having sex with some fat chick in public.

But I digress.

For ab0ut $21, you get access to a handful of bars and clubs, as well as outdoor stages and entertainment. My coworker had his kids with him so we hung out in the general area, walking around and playing carnival games (I won his daughter a stuffed shark shooting hoops). I checked out this club called 8 Trak that was a 70s/80s danceclub, but it was so overflowed with people from the show (i.e. middle aged midwestern people grooving on the dancefloor in birkenstock/white socks ensembles), that I had to leave; the place was prime for people watching but a visual trainwreck. We walked around but truth be told, there really weren’t any good looking people or interesting enough things going on to not make us not want to get really drunk and go home. So I had my 3 Ketal One and RedBull and spent the rest of the night riding the Disneyland Shuttlebus, discussing with my playa coworker why he needs to be more of a player while he’s single.

Hate the game, not the player.

I’m going to go surf Craigslist for weed now.

Fucking peace, y’all.