Each time I wake up I take the red pill. And before I go to sleep I tell the world my name is Neo.

Last night I had a dream. It was a vibrantly vivid dream where I drove the magical school bus through time and space, but mostly space. I was accompanied by Morpheus, an unnamed 19th century actress with a stern as granite attitude equalling Esme Weatherwax, an immoral sloth and Joanie Fucking Stubbs. We were a mottled crew who’d come together haphazardly as we all tried to stack our odds against the numerous bands of irrationally roaming time-travelling giant zombie Nazi ants.

But mostly we spent our time around a picnic table in the back of the bus discussing philosophy of the now and how. It was incredibly enlightening and invigorating despite the gravity of our plight and the looming danger of being interred in prison camps where we would be forced to wear drab turtle necks meant to quell our hope and crush our spirits. I’ve got a feeling the turtle necks were not regular turtle necks as much as they were metaphors of something I have yet to figure out.

We had only just agreed that The Matrix was in fact an enjoyable but rather sloppy rewriting of  heteronormativity as a sound outside my window caused the dream to be torn away and my eyes to open to sunlight.

In this post-dream state of mine, many hours later, I still longingly look at nothing and wonder if I’ll ever get to return to the present of that dream. I don’t expect an answer, but in the meantime I’ll sit here like a lone ranger and allow Morpheus to become my gender studies professor and take comfort in listening to him explain what it’s like to be a queer in today’s society.

It is good to remember the fault is with the world and I think there is a good reason as to why Morpheus feature in my dreams so very often.


~ by Ape on February 18, 2013.

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