Old Stuff

Was trawling through the old unpublished things when i found this;


The Dream Machine
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

What if that all the dreams we ever had in our sleep are generated by a machine?  And what if this machine have existed for quite some time as a modification of Charles Babbage's calculation machine, powered by the brains of the long-dead writers and poets of old from all around the world such as Tolkien, Hemingway,  Conrad, Kafka,  Steinbeck, Poe, Shelly, Byron, Faulkner, Roald Dahl, or even our own Usman Awang? For a brain to be interred into the machine is the greatest honour a great mind can get., to lie in a state of immortality of sorts.

    A machine so big that it is of the size of a small continent, Jars and jars of brain floating in life-sustaining liquid all connected by wires and rubber tubes to each other and to the machine. The machine, of miles and miles of complex construction of steel tubes, innumerable cranks and cogs replete with dizzying array of valves and exhaust vents. Chugging and clanking, wheezing,all the while feeding all the people in the world, man woman and child their fair share of dreams or sometimes in some random algorithm combination, a nightmare.The army of half-dead brains still emitting sparks of imagination and giving us the most outlandish of dreams during our hours of  slumber,a Grimm-esque world of flying walruses and singing cats,of witches and imprisoned maidens, parliaments made entirely of cows and bulls, or maybe dream of food: a river of chocolate with banks of marzipan, soaring towers made of Cheddar bricks and fastened together with cream cheese mortar, or of loves found and lost , maybe dreams of epic proportion. In the world where the great minds run wild nothing is impossible.

    Giving us that drive to life the next day or perhaps reminding us of our innermost desires and wants, maybe etch a faint smile on our faces when we sit down and think of it at times of stress and sorrow, reminding us despite the all the crap we have to go through life ain't that bad after all. We still have our dreams to fall back to.

And what if this dream machine breaks down?



3.58 a.m, 6th August 2007