Dream: Not What Is Meant By "Iron Chef"
Monday, May 18th:
Everything unfolded like a teledrama, scenes changing before anything could be resolved. When a scene ended, though, its characters walked off the "set," and they felt gray, sometimes wandering ghostlike into the next scene. Some people could see them and some couldn't... some of the actors "on stage" got very confused. It kept happening over and over. Some of them were supposed to be in other countries, some were dead, but they all wandered past the buffet table and chatted about (or with) the actors in other scenes. It was fascinating, but I couldn't tell what was happening.
I struggled with the clerks at a small shop, something like Radio Shack but for mechanical parts. I wanted a custom part, and none of them could tell me what it would cost or how long it would take. I made a comment about it being staffed by Biochemists from Macalester.
One of the clerks said, "No, they all work at Jimmy John's."
"Oh, of course," I said. "That makes sense. This place must be all Physics and Communications."
A clerk with dreadlocks affirmed this, and apologized for the wait, saying they hadn't covered this yet.
"Oh!" I said, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were sophomores."
A phone rang on the desk; the clerk listened, then passed me the receiver. A gruff old Italian man in the basement whom I took to be the owner told me they couldn't possible machine the part we wanted, it was several times too big for their tools. (Alyssa and I wanted something like half a car chassis.)
beltramgregor and I stood at a spotlit table with the other contestants. We collected and traded little bits that looked like metallic M&M's, white and black and blue and silver. Some we invested, some we ate, others we kept. beltramgregor and I were the first by several minutes to heat our flat, square crucibles. We melted the bits into near-luminescent liquids that retained their colors, swirling as we mixed and folded them with iron spatulas. The audience and even the judges were stunned into silence. One judge so forgot herself that she began handing me tools when I reached for them.
The scene shifted, but the helpful judge and I walked ghostlike into the next scene, where my funereal was taking place in an unfamiliar church. All the pews had been turned 180 degrees, and the ceremony had begun. My parents sat alone in the "front" row (at the back of the sanctuary, by the doors); the other guests began a few rows back. Something in the ceremony addressed my parents; instead of the reply, Dad turned around and asked everyone not to bother them because they were mourning. Then my parents sank below the back of the pew, and I swear I heard them kissing and giggling.
I stood behind the "back" row, invisible to everyone, while the pastor spoke from the chancel. I kept expecting him to turn on a video projector, but he never did.
After the ceremony, everyone dispersed into the verdant grounds of musicin68's country club surrounding the church. Members cantered on horseback down wooded paths. On other trails, trained lions and woolly rams paused to rub their paws in the soil, leaving scent marks on which the hounds could practice.
Everything unfolded like a teledrama, scenes changing before anything could be resolved. When a scene ended, though, its characters walked off the "set," and they felt gray, sometimes wandering ghostlike into the next scene. Some people could see them and some couldn't... some of the actors "on stage" got very confused. It kept happening over and over. Some of them were supposed to be in other countries, some were dead, but they all wandered past the buffet table and chatted about (or with) the actors in other scenes. It was fascinating, but I couldn't tell what was happening.
I struggled with the clerks at a small shop, something like Radio Shack but for mechanical parts. I wanted a custom part, and none of them could tell me what it would cost or how long it would take. I made a comment about it being staffed by Biochemists from Macalester.
One of the clerks said, "No, they all work at Jimmy John's."
"Oh, of course," I said. "That makes sense. This place must be all Physics and Communications."
A clerk with dreadlocks affirmed this, and apologized for the wait, saying they hadn't covered this yet.
"Oh!" I said, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were sophomores."
A phone rang on the desk; the clerk listened, then passed me the receiver. A gruff old Italian man in the basement whom I took to be the owner told me they couldn't possible machine the part we wanted, it was several times too big for their tools. (Alyssa and I wanted something like half a car chassis.)
beltramgregor and I stood at a spotlit table with the other contestants. We collected and traded little bits that looked like metallic M&M's, white and black and blue and silver. Some we invested, some we ate, others we kept. beltramgregor and I were the first by several minutes to heat our flat, square crucibles. We melted the bits into near-luminescent liquids that retained their colors, swirling as we mixed and folded them with iron spatulas. The audience and even the judges were stunned into silence. One judge so forgot herself that she began handing me tools when I reached for them.
The scene shifted, but the helpful judge and I walked ghostlike into the next scene, where my funereal was taking place in an unfamiliar church. All the pews had been turned 180 degrees, and the ceremony had begun. My parents sat alone in the "front" row (at the back of the sanctuary, by the doors); the other guests began a few rows back. Something in the ceremony addressed my parents; instead of the reply, Dad turned around and asked everyone not to bother them because they were mourning. Then my parents sank below the back of the pew, and I swear I heard them kissing and giggling.
I stood behind the "back" row, invisible to everyone, while the pastor spoke from the chancel. I kept expecting him to turn on a video projector, but he never did.
After the ceremony, everyone dispersed into the verdant grounds of musicin68's country club surrounding the church. Members cantered on horseback down wooded paths. On other trails, trained lions and woolly rams paused to rub their paws in the soil, leaving scent marks on which the hounds could practice.