Freaky dream

Okay. Where to begin?

I'll start at the very beginning. The very best place to start.

Last night, or... this morning, rather, I had my first heart-pounding, shooting-up-out-of-bed, afraid-to-close-my-eyes, throw-covers-over-head nightmare since at least a year or so.

What I can remember of it--

Samantha and I were in class in this strange old classroom. We were learning something or other, I think. We were in the very back row. For some reason, my mom was both pregnant and sitting in the row diagonally across from us. So I guess she was taking the class too? Anyway. There's this hole in the back of the room under our desk. Things keep coming out of it. Then, Samantha yelped and jumped, and we looked under the table and there. Was. This thing . It was kind of like a rat, if a rat were the size of a small dog. Recently, I've been having these dreams about things with one completely white eye, and this rat had one bulging white eye. We jumped and shrieked and ran, and the rest of the class jumped and shrieked and ran out of the room... except for Mom, apparently too paralyzed with fear to move. Of course, she was lauging the whole time... go figure. Maybe she was hysterical. I don't know. So Samantha and I carry Mom off through the room. The whole time the freak-creepy rat thing is jumping at us and biting at us and hanging off of our shoes with its teeth.

Here comes the part inspired by the Llama song, for which I blame Robyn entirely [I was once a treehouse, I lived in a cake...]. We go outside of the classroom, carrying my somehow pregnant mother, and outside is a terrific battle. Tanks, planes, cars, bombs exploding... except they're all ducks. All of them. Go figure.

Laura analyzed that I am very protective of my mother, and that I see her as vunerable, which I can get behind... I just want to know what was with the duck!

Right....

I just watched the final controversial episode of The Prisoner, one of the greatest cult shows ever. Actually, right now, it’s the only show in competition with Lost for the “Best TV Show Ever, In My Opinion” slot. Anyway. I’ve heard so much about this episode… that it’s incredibly confusing, that it makes little sense, that it caused the star and co-creator Patrick McGoohan to have to move to America to escape his confused and violent fans… I’ve been looking forward to it ever since I started watching the show. As I watched the final credits roll, I was filled with a profound sense of “…Huh?” No, really… what?

Surreal. Bizarre. Words can’t describe this episode. What would you call watching people in white robes and masks gun each other down to the lilting strains of “All You Need Is Love?” Or hear so many versions of “Dem Bones, Dem Bones, Dem… Dry Bones” that your head explodes? Shut up, already, Personification of Angry Youth! And the crazy Number 2 from last ep who, apparently, came back from the dead? You can shut up too. Also. “Confess, baby.” What? No, really, what?

And what about that Number 1? After wondering for the whole show just who that nefarious Number 1, head of the prison that is The Village is, you give us… that? Wow. Wow. No wonder you had to leave England, McGoohan. For those of you who have never watched the show [heh…. that’s all of you, I wager] it would be like if JK Rowling never published the seventh book. Or if she did publish it, but it had a strange, incomprehensible ending somehow involving Harry and Voldemort being the same person. Yeah. Plus, I think I was gypped… I checked this ep out on the internet, reading spoilers galore, and they all told me that certain things happened that never happened on the show I watched tonight. Certain things that would have seriously improved this episode. So I guess I’ll have to scrape together the hundred-odd dollars that the DVD set costs. Seriously, y’all, $115 for a show that only had, what, 18 episodes?

Despite my problems with the show, though, I intensely enjoyed it. I’m deeply confused and troubled, but diverted. Plus, I’ll never say no to watching McGoohan for an hour. Heh.