X-NEWS: spcvxb talk.bizarre: 18232 Relay-Version: VMS News - V6.0 13.10.90 VAX/VMS V5.4; site spcvxb.spc.edu Path: spcvxb.spc.edu!njin!rutgers!apple!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!bloom-picayune.mit.edu!news Newsgroups: talk.bizarre Subject: another strange dream Message-ID: <1991Feb10.210859.29756@athena.mit.edu> From: rosencra@athena.mit.edu (John Buck) Date: 10 Feb 91 21:08:59 GMT Reply-To: rosencra@athena.mit.edu (John Buck) Sender: news@athena.mit.edu (News system) Organization: Sixth Circle, Wrathful and Sullen Lines: 46 Last night I dreamt the production of Murder in the Cathedral was still running. Strangely enough, rather than the MIT chapel, it was playing in St Louis Cathedral, a place I visited once for 10 minutes four years ago. When it came time for my final speech, I couldn't remember it at all. Instead, I gave Becket's Christmas sermon again. Somehow it made sense, and meant what my lines were supposed to mean, not what it meant when Becket gave it. I left the back of the cathedral, and went up the stairs in to the belltower. Halfway up the stairs, I stopped off to say hi to Nigel, because her bedroom was there. Through her window, I could see the storm brewing. Flopped across her futon, she spoke languidly. "My brother has set the antenna on the roof so that the first bolt will reflect down here and kill me." It struck me as odd she demonstrated little concern about this impending disaster, as thunder rumbled in the distance. She offered no resistance as I carried her up the stairs to the belltower, and left her in a nook, as I subtly readjusted the antenna with my swiss army knife (real nerds never leave home without one) to insert another capacitor and a JK flipflop, both of which I conveniently had in my backpack. I went back downstairs to await for the arrival of her brother, after covering the now sleeping Nigel with my overcoat. I sat in the back corner. After the lightning flashed once, he opened the door and looked around. "She's not here," I said, "Can I take a message?" "Who the hell are you?" he frothed, glasses falling off as he shook with rage. "A friend of hers. She told me what you did. I prevented it." "You bastard," he screamed. "You've ruined everything, even the watermelon sherbet." As he stepped towards me with the big knife, I took a step back. The second bolt of lightning struck the antenna, charging the capacitor, triggering the flip-flop, and then discharging the capacitor through the sink spigot, striking Nigel's brother, and throwing him out the window to his death as he fried. I closed the window, walked back upstairs, reclaimed my parts, restored the antenna, and gently carried the still-sleeping Nigel back down to her bed. As I put her down, she opened her eyes and kissed me deeply. "Thanks for everything." Flabbergasted, tonguetied, I mumbled "It was nothing" and left the room thinking, "Now I've done it." jb I will never ever eat 15 donuts and drink 4 liters of Mountain Dew in one sitting again. ps this is all true