Like all Americanized Chinese food (we will lump Panda in with "Chinese food" for the sake of this entry) establishments, the meals come with a fortune cookie, and I'm presuming my readership is generally familiar with those, so let's move on. I keep all those fortunes at my desk at work. They don't really make me feel better; I'm just too lazy to throw them away.
Okay, really, one just never knows when their pithy wisdom will prove inspirational. And by "inspirational" I mean giving me something to write about, not spiritual fulfillment; I feel compelled to make that clear.
A recent fortune I got--which was not, in actuality, a "fortune" in the sense of predicting the future in a vague sense, but rather an encouraging aphorism, but... yeah, you've seen them; I'm over-describing this. (Moving on.) Ahem. A recent slip of paper inside the hollow bent cookie read: "If you dream it--it will happen."
Crap.
Like I didn't have enough reasons to worry that might keep me up at night. Now my unconscious had been granted unlimited power to shape the nature of things. And what little I tended to remember of my dreams (prior to being granted this by the fortune) made me concerned; I can have some pretty weird dreams.
However, after a couple weeks of weilding this authority, I've noticed I don't recall any dreams I've had during this period. Not even those wispy, indistinct recollections, the half-shaped images. Thus, all I have to go on is what I observe of the world while I am of the perception of being awake.
Apparently I dream of going to work, coming home, and watching TV. Over and over.
Egad, but my unconscious is dull.
The thing is: I don't think it used to be this dull. Clearly, this is some kind of Twilight Zone-esqe twist. Give my sleeping mind dominion over reality but strip it of any imagination, allowing it only dreams of the world exactly as it already was.
I didn't ask for straight-jacketed omnipotence; I just wanted some Kung Pao chicken.
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