Background: Dream appeared in the midst of reading Richard Kadrey's "Metrophage", and several weeks after reading David Brin's "The Postman", hence the dark, depressing, post-apocalyptic mood.

March 31, 2003: Monday

BORG CHILDREN OF THE POST APOCALYPSE
I am in the future. There is a curse. Or a mutated virus. A viral strain that turns people into jittery zombie-like borgs. Children especially start to vibrate oddly and then consume other people's blood. They are assimilated into the community of other borg like zombies. And call one another "Operatives."
___ There is a mass exodus going on. Out of the cities and into the country. And I am packing. I fill two malletas easily and ponder bringing the large TV. But decide against it. I ask the children of the family who own the room I am renting, whether they would like the big TV. They nod. SO i plug it in for them and join the exodus.

Suddenly I am in a large, dark house with tall ceilings. It looks like a mansion in the southern USA. White painted balustrades, and balconies and rocking chairs. There are a couple of women on a couch who have not yet been turned. While all around them are zombie children, vibrating and spinning like bey blades... they are eating up strangers who have entered the house.
___The 2 normal women have realized that in order to avoid attack, they must sit as still as possible, not panic and speak in a monotonous voice. A little like "Invasion of the Body Snatchers."

Meanwhile , upstairs, there is a strange body coming out of a stasis tube. Apparently the body has been frozen for several years in this makeshift clinic on the 2nd floor. The body creeps out over the floor, feet morphing into hands, morphing into monstrous claws while a dark muck oozes out of its tube. [my mind cannot decide what it should be.] The body turns out to be a dying officer in the army back when this viral menace was new. Someone who was frozen into a cryogenic tube back during the big war that started all this.
___The officer interfaces with the clinic computer and asks where he is, at the same time ordering the computer to lower itself from the sky harness, promising to raise the medical facility again once the danger was clear. The computer explains that it is part of a makeshift clinic and that sky harnesses were abandoned years after the war. The soldier realizes he is several years too late to save the world.

Downstairs, we are trying to sneak around, escaping from the borg children by donning shades so they cannot see our eyes. However we are accosted and asked: "What is your business upstairs, operative?"

We have no answer. So then we are caught.

On the wall, is etched the prayer of the borg children. One look and you know it is a radio conversation from the 20th century as it is inundated with "Charlie, Zero, Victor, Tango" etc. etc. Telling you full well that the creed the borg children believe in is one that makes no sense. They pray these words thinking it an incantation. Actually it is an anachronism in this post-apocalyptic age of technological ruin and mechanical debris.

April 1, 2003 : Tuesday

DINGY EATERIES IN SEASIDE MANILA/SAUSALITO
Living in an apartment that is not mine. Caretaking. Alan T. comes to pick me up at the apartment complex parking lot. Looks like Makati Cinema Square area. But since it shares the parking lot with a shopping mall, there is a fee. He has to pay the regular fee. He didn't tell the guard he was just picking up someone.

And then we are travelling. This looks like the seaside Sausalito of my past dreams... open air, lotsa buildings. We are looking for the Parish hall where we're supposed to have a meeting. But instead stop off at a dingy looking bar/billiards/bowling place where the band (a motley crew of high school jologs) is playing a The Dawn cover song...and they don't even have a guitarist or a vocalist. Alan and I look thru the window where the sound men are stationed and we hear them sing the song. We decide to enter the place and have a bite to eat.

Upon entering, we are in a carinderia which looks even dingier than the bar. There is a couple of gay teenage jolog guys kissing in a corner. But they soon move out. Alan and I take the seat where they were. But I stand to figure out where we are. I exit the carinderia for a few minutes to see what streets we are near. The gay teeners are outside waiting for a jeep. I see we are somewhere near Manila Cathedreal. Intramuros. I get my bearings. And re-enter the carinderia so I can finally eat.

Background: I fall asleep in the pre-dusk afternoon and dream about my personal "Promised Land"... except I awake with a feeling of dread.

April 2, 2003 6:30 PM

THE INVISIBLE TRUCK TO THE PROMISED LAND
We are riding on the back of an invisible red pickup truck. Whole family, and the truck has been extended by wood planks and metal risers and girders so that the flat bed at the back now looks more like risers at a sports stadium. Somehow or other, the contents of my entire room are there on the various shelf levels of the truck.
___And we ride for hours on end. Apparently this is an exodus. We are heading for some vague new place, some Promised Land where we have friends or ... relatives who will take care of us. [I believe now, this dream is about migrating to the USA.]
___There are strange fellows with us who are yakking about how we've only done this trip once. I dunno why i strikes me that they are our seatmates [like on a plane] when in actuality, there is only one truck.
___ On one of the shelves, there lie my VHS tapes and the journals I have amassed through life. Precariously balanced on one of the outer levels of the truck.
___The highway we speed on is a strange, glorious thoroughfare... both eerie in the purple pre-dusk gloom and liberating in its speed. We travel in miles.
___We pass by a strange resort on the right.... Which looks like it is THE SOURCE of life. But I am not sure. Whatever it is... the sights we behold on the way to our destination are fascinating and strange. Unlike any manmade sights we have ever seen.

At our destination is a sprawling mansion-of-a-house owned by Cyril S. He welcomes us in and pardons us for the chinese-ness of his dwelling.
___ We are to feel at home. I spy a strange footrest in the music room--- it is a cross between a massager with big wooden balls, an abacus, and a 1960's vintage type guitar effects unit. Strange indeed.
___ In order to keep our stuff safe, Mama casts a spell to keep our stuff invisible. It coats the entire truck, and becomes a problem when our friends come to visit and want to parallel park but canot see the obstructing truck in their path. We have to guide them around the invisible truck using our hands to feel the truck's edges....

A friend arrives with Mama's gift: a project observatory. You assemble it and watch for the stars like in the movie, Contact. My Mother is thrilled. She wants to start assembling right away. But we try to dissuade her. There is a mountain of cables and instruction booklets.

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