Turning Dreams Into Reality

I had a dream this morning. That statement is probably more significant than one might expect because I normally don't dream at all. Technically, I'm sure I do, but I never remember them. You know when you wake up and remember that you had a dream, but you can't quite recall any details? I don't even get that. I go to sleep and wake up the next morning. As far as I'm concerned, the actual time I spent sleeping may well have not existed -- I have no sense of time passing at all. In fact, I firmly believed I didn't actually sleep at all until I was ten or so.

In my entire life so far, I can recall having only about eight dreams, only five of which I still have any recollection of today. So that I had a dream this morning, to me, is striking.

But I'd like to note it hear on my blog because I think it's an interesting story idea that could well be translated into a comic book. So, in the same vein as my Propoganda of the Deed idea, I'd like to put the idea down in the hopes that someone with more artistic talent than myself might like to help create this into an actual comic book. (I could still use an artist on that Propaganda of the Deed story, if anyone's interested.)

In my dream, I'm hired as a courier, delivering packages from one side of town to another. I return to the office after a very quick delivery, and I get into an arguement with the clerk about some penalty they're trying to apply against the job I just ran. A young gentleman in his early 20s comes out from a back room and promises to help clear up the matter. We head down to his car in the garage, and I continue arguing that the penalty wasn't fair and I earned this money (wadded up and tightly clenched within my fist) fairly. He remains largely silent, offering only an occassional "Uh-huh" or "Mmm." He asks me to get into his car, and he'll drive me out so we can take of the matter.

The trip to his home is fairly short, and he parks in the driveway of what appears to be a hidden home. The face of it is low and is reminiscent of a colonial-style cottage. The back and sides, however, are completely hidden as the house is built into the side of a hill. He turns off the house alarm and we step inside. The room opens down into a grand, two-story entryway that looks like a cross between a life-size maze and a toy store. Shelves of toys run almost to the ceiling, creating a puzzle that most children would be happy to be trapped in. They're dolls and games and teddy bears and airplanes and tricycles and everything a child might want. It's wonderous in much the same way going to Children's Palace or Toys R Us was when I was six or seven. Further along, there's a section with comic books and traditional children's literature, ranging from Dr. Suess to Judy Bloom.

We walk through and he explains that he's becoming the world's leader in producing whatever it is that kids want: toys, games, comics, whatever. He loves children and wants to make them happy, but he can't enjoy them himself if he's trying to run a business in a more classical sense. To that end, he'd like to hire me to prove to the world that he doesn't exist. If he didn't exist, he wouldn't have to fight corporate takeovers and deal with competitors and the like; he could simply focus on making things that kids wanted.

How can you prove that someone doesn't exist? By showing them that they do. By putting this man's life up as a story for the world to see, and showing how utterly fantastic it is, everyone would have to assume it was fiction because it's simply beyond the realm of believability.

He even offers to bring The Wife in, so the two of us could live comfortably near him and help document his non-existence. And obviously, he would pay very handsomely. The Wife and I are both very happy.

That's as far as I got when I woke up.

It's only part of a story so far, but I think there's a lot of a germ of an intriguing idea there. Something of a cross between Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Toys, and my interests in storytelling and marketing.

I'm reminded of a pair of anecdotes. 1) What was the Devil's greatest feat? Proving to the world that he doesn't exist. 2) In the first episode of Psych, Sean notes that the best way to lie to someone is to tell them that you're lying to them.

In any event, I don't know what might have prompted that particular dream this morning, nor do I know why I would remember it upon waking. But it strikes me as another interesting story idea that could work well as a comic book. Any artists out there up to the challenge?

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