Post-Apocalyptic English Flute

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First, I want to describe a dream I had two nights ago about a post-apocalyptic city, and a shape-shifting man.

In a dusty, half-decimated university library sat a man baring an uncanny resemblance to Simon Pegg reading a thick tome about war-machines. After browsing the shelves for something to read, and yet unable to locate anything satisfactory to my tastes, I approached the gentleman who at that moment peered up from his hefty volume. We conversed for a few minutes about the diabolical state of the city, and eventually he admitted being part of a resistance movement to overthrow the government, and of course I was intrigued. At that moment, the library door burst open and security forces entered and tried to arrest us. Fortunately, we managed to escape; unfortunately, I cannot remember how.

The man who may or may not have been Simon Pegg, took me to the fence surrounding the city, and told me that I would be fine if I remained quiet for a small time, and stayed away from the library, meanwhile he would keep running and try to keep information about me non-existent. Feeling a certain attraction towards this stranger, I thanked him, and he phased through the fence like a form of magical creature. Then, as though it was some kind of rebellious sign of friendship, he half-blew, half-hissed through the fence. I remember thinking that I should do the same, so as not to offend him, and so I did. With a reassuring nod, he told me he would be back, but I was never to speak of our meeting.

Dream blackout, and then I was talking to some old friends near a tower on the outskirts of the city. The tower resembled the space-needle in Seattle, USA, and had a long tube like base leading to a flat, star-shaped top. The tube was home to a small two-person elevator which lifted patrons to the top of the tower to overlook the wasteland outside the fence. Government officials commissioned it as a scare-tactic for those hoping to leave the city, but police forces also used it to catch rebellion members living on the outskirts. I am discussing with my friends the sighting of a man in the wastelands who has been caught, and I am praying it’s not my rebellion friend, when the elevator opened.

A man and a women, very official in appearance, step out of the elevator, and look at me. When the woman speaks, she does so with the voice of my rebellion friend. Immediately, I run up and hug her, and she shape-shifts back into a man. This time he looks more like the big-bad from the “Batman Begins” movie. We embrace, and he tells me he’s fine, and that he has missed me. We do the half-hiss-half-blow signal again … and the dream ends.

I like keep track of the dreams I have, because sometimes they make for great story set-ups, but I rarely have such fluid, powerful dreams, which I remember so vividly.

Second order of business. I have decided to learn the recorder, or the English flute as it is more pompously known. This will be my project for 2011, and I have a few months to sort everything out – find a recorder, buy some instructional books, etc- in preparation. At some point in the next few weeks I also plan to purchase my 2011 calendar, and diary. Part of the 2011 plan involves better organization, so I hope by getting ready a few months in advance I can propel myself into a rhythm before January reaches us.

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