Tweet
I would normally ignore this dream, were this Forum not the perfect (and sole) place to share it...
As part of the dreamscape through which my brain traipsed last night, one segment involved my wife and I walking into a large room filled with chairs (coincidentally the main room of the Springfield Military Museum, where I spent Friday and Saturday participating inn a Great War reenactment)...
Seated in the chairs were all of you. At least, it was those of you whose faces I know from the last Mego Meet, along with the faces I have invented for your various online identities for those I have never met. Standing at the front of the room and speaking to the audience was Brian; I would like think he was wearing Brick Mantooth's brown pullover and striped bellbottoms, but I honestly cannot recall.
We sat in the front row, and Brian continued talking... apparently, this was some sort of "live" version of the Mego Museum Newsletter, and he was sharing with us varous updates in the 8" action figure world, but his tone was dire, and it was clear that he was leading up to something.
Then he got angry. Brian revealed to the audience -- and elicited from them outbursts of anguish and horror and despair -- the unanticipated news that the primary source for all our most beloved items within this hobby was immediately ceasing production and availability of all Mego and Mego-like items.
...Quick interjection: In real-life, this alleged company would probably be FTC. Within the dream, however, I did not hear the name, and this mega-entity somehow had control (and/or was the actual source) of far more than anything that actually exists...
Anyway, Brian revealed many of the specific items that could no longer be obtained -- ironically, by holding up examples of those items. Again, being a dream, I cannot now recall the specificity of every item my brain referenced or simply made up, but he held up a couple handfuls of figures and, after identifying them, dashed them to the ground. He held up a large cardboard poster advertising some highly-anticipated releases, then chucked it aside in grief.
Along with the rest of the audience, I became overwhelmed with emotion. The final blow was when Brian picked up -- and unfolded -- some cheap plastic (blue) modular thingy, which he identified as a new Batman-themed playset, which would now never be seen on the market.
The crowd erupted. Anguish was expressed by all in every form and manner, but I was openly weeping and totally distraught and my thoughts were turned inward (thus not noting what others said/did) -- whatever will I do? What will become of us all? How will our lives possibly go on with such emptiness?
... And that's all. I cannot recall if the dream suddenly changed tracks, or if I woke up briefly, or something else. It is what it is -- even if that turns out to be an overblown exaggeration of the importance of something that's not actually very important in the larger scale of things.
Before anyone thinks they can singlehandedly decipher the dream metaphors, I should share: behind this dream are several recent/ongoing very serious (and depressing) downward turns within the lives of my immediate family -- which I don't care to air here -- but which explains the emotional despair. Combined with the horror experienced in the trenches of WWI, a subject I related over and over again to spectators at this weekend's event (thus the museum venue), these were stimuli too powerful not to expect to pop up in my dreams.
The Mego connection is actually easiest to explain. Immediately before leaving for my weekend event, after being delayed for a few hours dealing with some of the above-mentioned family turmoil, I saw a package hanging from our mailbox (lazy mail carrier), which turned out to be my unexpected Mego Newsletter Contest prize. I quickly opened the box, saw a rapidly-scrawled message from Brian, and the brand new Boss Hogg figure, then stashed it before running back out the door for the four-hour drive. Which reminds me: where did I stash that box? Ah, I have an entire car to unpack first.
As part of the dreamscape through which my brain traipsed last night, one segment involved my wife and I walking into a large room filled with chairs (coincidentally the main room of the Springfield Military Museum, where I spent Friday and Saturday participating inn a Great War reenactment)...
Seated in the chairs were all of you. At least, it was those of you whose faces I know from the last Mego Meet, along with the faces I have invented for your various online identities for those I have never met. Standing at the front of the room and speaking to the audience was Brian; I would like think he was wearing Brick Mantooth's brown pullover and striped bellbottoms, but I honestly cannot recall.
We sat in the front row, and Brian continued talking... apparently, this was some sort of "live" version of the Mego Museum Newsletter, and he was sharing with us varous updates in the 8" action figure world, but his tone was dire, and it was clear that he was leading up to something.
Then he got angry. Brian revealed to the audience -- and elicited from them outbursts of anguish and horror and despair -- the unanticipated news that the primary source for all our most beloved items within this hobby was immediately ceasing production and availability of all Mego and Mego-like items.
...Quick interjection: In real-life, this alleged company would probably be FTC. Within the dream, however, I did not hear the name, and this mega-entity somehow had control (and/or was the actual source) of far more than anything that actually exists...
Anyway, Brian revealed many of the specific items that could no longer be obtained -- ironically, by holding up examples of those items. Again, being a dream, I cannot now recall the specificity of every item my brain referenced or simply made up, but he held up a couple handfuls of figures and, after identifying them, dashed them to the ground. He held up a large cardboard poster advertising some highly-anticipated releases, then chucked it aside in grief.
Along with the rest of the audience, I became overwhelmed with emotion. The final blow was when Brian picked up -- and unfolded -- some cheap plastic (blue) modular thingy, which he identified as a new Batman-themed playset, which would now never be seen on the market.
The crowd erupted. Anguish was expressed by all in every form and manner, but I was openly weeping and totally distraught and my thoughts were turned inward (thus not noting what others said/did) -- whatever will I do? What will become of us all? How will our lives possibly go on with such emptiness?
... And that's all. I cannot recall if the dream suddenly changed tracks, or if I woke up briefly, or something else. It is what it is -- even if that turns out to be an overblown exaggeration of the importance of something that's not actually very important in the larger scale of things.
Before anyone thinks they can singlehandedly decipher the dream metaphors, I should share: behind this dream are several recent/ongoing very serious (and depressing) downward turns within the lives of my immediate family -- which I don't care to air here -- but which explains the emotional despair. Combined with the horror experienced in the trenches of WWI, a subject I related over and over again to spectators at this weekend's event (thus the museum venue), these were stimuli too powerful not to expect to pop up in my dreams.
The Mego connection is actually easiest to explain. Immediately before leaving for my weekend event, after being delayed for a few hours dealing with some of the above-mentioned family turmoil, I saw a package hanging from our mailbox (lazy mail carrier), which turned out to be my unexpected Mego Newsletter Contest prize. I quickly opened the box, saw a rapidly-scrawled message from Brian, and the brand new Boss Hogg figure, then stashed it before running back out the door for the four-hour drive. Which reminds me: where did I stash that box? Ah, I have an entire car to unpack first.
Comment