Back from the Dead
Dream | October 23, 2010
At my next neighbor's house I find a VHS tape on the porch. No label, just a bulky black plastic cartridge. So I take it home and put it in the player.
Immediately I'm sucked into a movie. Michael Moore is standing there narrating into a microphone, with an F-14 Tomcat behind him. We're on an Air Force base, I am the cameraman, and he is introducing his new documentary.
"High-level sources have revealed this new classified information and we're recording it now in case something happens to us," he says as we walk towards the aircraft. "This is happening right now...."
He steps aside and I climb into the navigator's seat behind the pilot. The F-14 launches down the runway and arcs through the air at ludicrous speed, descending into the dark night somewhere out in the cold North Pacific Ocean. The choppy water is a dark gray-blue as we land on an aircraft carrier.
Now I'm following a small group of security personnel crowded around Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. We're all bustling across the tarmac towards the edge of the carrier where the ocean is just a foot or two below the rim. Obama and Clinton get into a small motorboat with a single soldier sitting aft at the engine. He is wearing a wetsuit from head to toe with narrow goggles on so that none of his flesh is visible. As the omnipresent observer I follow them out into the stormy open sea.
At some point the boat stops. Hillary and Barack jump into the water still wearing formal attire, with no masks or breathing apparatus. A diver already in the water grabs and drags them down into the ocean. After a minute we must be down several atmospheres in the cold black sea. Only a dim pale haze surrounds the boat hull way above.
Then Obama looks at me strangely. Eyes wide, his face shows an incredulous surprise and recognition. I've become someone else who has come up from the depths. Now I'm swimming quickly to the surface, leaving them behind below. For the first time I can feel my body, wearing a full wetsuit and flippers.
Near the boat I break the surface. The driver leans over the gunwale and I pull him into the water. Then I hoist myself into the boat and buzz off. I wonder who am I?
As soon as the boat hits the side of the aircraft carrier I leap onto the deck. Someone starts shooting at me with an automatic rifle, but I slide behind some large bulky items covered with canvas. Then I break for a door with a light over it and a single guard with a gun across his chest. He's peering into the darkness at me and looks like he's going to shoot, but he's confused. Then he recognizes me, lowering his gun. I dodge past him through the door.
Through dimly lit corridors I'm running. Startled people emerging from doorways yell abruptly. I hear confused questioning voices behind me. The sounds of running and chaos. Shots crack nearby as I turn a corner. Who am I?
Finally, in some quiet area I look into the reflective glass of double doors. I am a blonde woman with a lightly freckled face who seems oddly familiar. Then I remember the news story. She was an Air Force pilot commended for bravery but lost at sea on a dark night while on a classified mission. I have become this famous woman, now back from the dead.
But I'm hungry now, so I push through the double doors into a cafeteria. Then I meet her.
"It's you!" I say to her. "I thought you were dead!" Her name is Amelia Earhart.
"Nope. The media got it wrong. I hear you're part of that Michael Moore movie."
"Yeah," I say. "In my wildest dreams I never thought I'd be you." She chuckles at that, and then is gone.
It was all a Michael Moore documentary... well, I guess I got a free trip to an Alaskan aircraft carrier, but I seem to have lost the suit I was wearing before all this happened. Then I figure I should change out of these wet clothes before eating, so I walk up some stairs towards the restrooms.
In the men's room I strip down to find that my dry suit folded up underneath my outer clothing. In the mirror I discover a goofy straw hat on my head. Someone pushes open the door but I kick it closed again. "Almost done!" There is no lock, so I slide my foot against the door while I finish changing.
Heading down the stairs I run into Condoleezza Rice with a lunch tray in her hands. She says suggestively, "Hey you should come over for dinner sometime!"
"Um, aren't you married?" I say, to which she replies, "Yeah, but my husband and I are separated."
In the cafeteria my mom and Jay are practicing Spanish. At another table my sister and her two niños are seated.
I ask them, "Where's the food?"
Summer points down the hall and says, "Over there. Take the kids with you."
We're helping ourselves to some awful ship grub when I wake up...