Found in Space

As some of you have noticed, I’ve taken sometime off of the blogosphere. Through the past few months I’ve had time to myself to get used to my new job, ponder my life existence, and catch up on my video games. All this culminated into epitomical dream the previous night that I think is life-changing enough to share again with all of you. Thank you for those who noticed I was gone.

Begin dream: I enter a large, steel cavernous room. I’ve just started a new job (for the record, this would be my fourth job within a one year time frame) on board a space station. The first thing I see are a half dozen people gathered around a table, playing cards. “Come join us! This is what we do.” Uh… ok… so I sit down and try to learn their rules for Space Poker or whatever they may be playing. (See this picture for one of my friends who was there playing cards, which may explain a lot).

So I sit for a hand and suddenly have to go. “Where’s the restroom?!” I get pointed into the direction of a hallway that leads into a room as large as a museum lobby, with a ceiling as tall as a three story house, completely bare asides from the rivets in the steel walls. And a sole porcelain throne in the center. Feeling rather open and vulnerable, but still having to go, I proceed to sit on the lone toilet bowl, when a door I didn’t see before opens at one end of the room and a party of about twenty people enter, following a guy with a flag, obviously some sort of space station tour group. They act like they’ve never seen a guy sitting on a toilet bowl in the middle of a space station before, so that forces me to shoot up from the seat and run into another room. (Don’t ask about what I did with my pants – In dreams they just come on and off as necessary. Well, at least my dreams.)

The next room is smaller, more cramped, with lots of space consoles and buttons and monitors, like what you see in the generic cockpit of one of those generic spaceship driving shows. “There you are!” exclaims someone who I realize is my Supervisor. Have a seat so you can begin work.” I’m lead to a comfy steel chair, molded to the contours of my butt, and get spun towards a monitor. “Translate this to Japanese.” And he turns on an episode of Pokemon, which is ironically a cartoon show which originated in Japan. At this point, I’m thinking this is one heck of a cool job, except for their facilities, and I will really enjoy myself here. Except, “I don’t know Japanese,” I explain. “Oh…” my Supervisor says. “Then translate it to Hebrew.”

Then I woke up.

Thoughts of starting The Big KL’s Institute for Interstellar Foreign Language Animation Translation Services did cross my mind, but I figured I’d start small and maybe go back to writing in my blog instead. Baby steps, right?