triadruid

Oddly, I seem to have had the same dream (or at least dreamworld) last night as I had some months ago. Near-future setting, overcrowding and ubiquitous tracking/communication, like the display screens in airports these days; instead of "John Saffir, pick up the nearest White Courtesy Phone", it was "13322, report to Board Room on the 29th floor". Both times I seemed to be some sort of ex-military and now I was working corporately somewhere. The backstory (yes, I know, flashbacks in a dream?) involved some awful things that had happened during the war/conflict, including a small-scale ground invasion of the US, nuclear-tipped missiles flying between - but striking far past - twin skyscrapers, and at least one post-war incident where someone, maybe another soldier with war crimes on his head, had gotten into a car accident, flipped his vehicle on a small muddy road, and been dispatched by me as a mercy killing without anyone actually knowing who did it. Or not; I was later (in both instances of this dream - but still in flashback) in a courtroom, obviously still dealing with some sort of physical pain from the radiation of the war, and blearily staring at somebody on my legal team when everyone there realized that she didn't actually realize who I was. Apparently I was some sort of Big Deal, though whether that was fame or infamy was a little hard to figure out from context; the whole dream was very much in media res. I might even have BEEN one of the lawyers by that point.

The setting for this dream after the repeat section was Los Angeles, which had roller-coaster-quality monorails everywhere and 20 million people (I think they meant in the city proper, as that doesn't make sense for Los Angeles County). I was working in a high-rise and headed to a board meeting, but when I got there the boss was droning on and on about something (again - not in the sense of 'this happened last time I had this dream, too' but rather 'she does this all the fecking time'), and I got called out by a telescreen to some other event. As I stepped out, someone else at the meeting stepped into the elevator with me to ask my opinion on if we were ever going to actually get around to voting on this particular item on the agenda, to which I replied '...I've got a betting pool going.' He blinked, then laughed as if sidebets were a common occurrence in the new corporate culture. I'm not clear if the betting pool was on the boss actually calling the question to a vote, or retiring, or getting married, or what... but in any case, my leaving for the other meeting meant I temporarily lost my executive voting rights (which was likewise no big deal), so the telescreens announced that my alternate was to report to the Board Room on the 29th floor... and then I woke up.

P.S. I think this post exceeds my daily quota of "some*" used in a recounting. I'll go try to be more specific now somewhere else...Damnit, there it is again!