All right, people. I trust you enough to throw off the shackles of my "character" for one day, right? Right. Because I'll be honest with you. This Orange Alert, waiting to bomb Iraq, and CIA director testimony on TV stuff, combined with the bad newspaper stories about Costco running out of duct tape, is starting to seriously fuck with my mind. How could it not? The world has gone completely mad, and I don't think I'm just perceiving it that way.

Last night, I had a dream, my first dream about terrorism.

I'm walking down the street in New York City. A gigantic fireball roars from the sky and explodes a few hundred feet away from me. Another one follows. I run in the other direction. The fireballs keep coming. I keep running. Around me, people and buildings are on fire. Everyone is screaming.

Then cut to a room, cold and without electricity. A bunch of people are sitting around, telling stories. An editor I know says, "When the fireballs came, I ran all the way to Los Angeles."

"That's a long way to run," I say.

My friend Todd comes into the room. He's crying.

"They killed Nick Cave," he says.

"I know," I say. "I watched him die."

Now, some may draw only one moral from this story: What a pathetic hipster. Who the hell dreams about terrorists killing Nick Cave? And those critics would certainly have a point. I was certainly mad at myself when I woke up. I mean, Nick Cave? I couldn't identify more than two Nick Cave songs. I've never seen him live. He means less than nothing to me. Lame.

That said, it's interesting that the dreams have finally come. I feel like the government's propaganda has begun to sink in, like they're actually starting to get to me. Maybe I watch too much Fox News. But for the first time ever, I'm feeling genuinely paranoid.

I can't be alone in this. At least I don't want to be. So I urge you, my loyal Beagles, to send me your dreams about terrorism. It's my latest contest, but this one is different. Don't send me "funny" dreams based on your special observations of current events. Don't try to top me at my own game. I can spot bad humor writing at 1,000 paces.

Just send me your dreams if you'd had them. Give me a peek into your subconcious, and, by extension, the nation's. Pass this request on to friends, too.

Again, don't try to make anything up. Because I'll know. Now read the first dreams, already published on my letters page, to be updated continually as they come in.

Together, we can find the Id of the world. And then we'll heal, using my special motivational videotape, Overcoming Dreams of Terror, available for only $19.99. Thanks.

NP

Posted by at 3:54 PM | Permalink