Hugo Weaving, Bruce Lee, Hope Chest-Chuckles EXCLUSIVE

Chuckles had this awesome, if disturbingly vivid dream.  I wonder if he censored anything? I have also dreamt about the stud rockers Hope Chest.  More on that later.
This dream started out like so many others.  I was jogging along a beach stark naked.  I was utterly alone, but there were beach houses everywhere, just above the high water mark.  It was early in the morning, in the pre-dawn gray and felt like it was going to storm most of the day.  My body was basically the same as it is now and every now and then the camera perspective would shift and I would watch myself jog.  I think that the next time I go jogging I will wear some tighty whiteys.

After proceeding for what felt like a couple miles, I encountered a sandy street and jogged on the sidewalk.  This part of the beach was distinctly unsafe as there was no dune protecting the town from the waves.   There were sand drifts and puddles with seaweed in them all over the road.  I kept jogging and found myself in front of the boardwalk entertainment district.  It wasn’t quite open but there were a few dudes setting up some equipment.  I walked over, dangly bits and all, and asked them what they were doing.

“We are opening a new VR terminal MMOG [Massive multiplayer online game? -Ed.]!  Would you like to give it a shot?”
“Hell yeah!”
They set up some chairs and starting wiring a net of electrodes to my skull, rather like the one in Future
Strange Days (With Ralph Fiennes and way too much naked Juliette Lewis).  The webbing of electrodes was connected to a thick black cable, maybe three or four inches in diameter and was surprisingly heavy.  They said that I would be met with a trainer once I was inside and that I was to have fun and obey the rules.  These two statements seemed oddly contradictory to me.

Once the techs jammed the big black cable into a socket, I sort of flipped out.  In my dream, it was like going through the monolith.  Or perhaps how I imagine seizures to be for the poor bastards that have them.  I think I was actually thrashing around on my bed because I woke up with a ton of new bruises.  The flashes of light and color went on for about as long as I had been jogging and then I was standing in an arena that bore an uncanny resemblance to the inside of a pac-man game, but with pac-man style high-rises and no walls.  Just a big black-ish cube with soft edges and little dots in regular rows and large dots interspersed around at uneven intervals.  There was a tiki bar and tiki bandstand over my left shoulder and some extremely pixellated guys in black suits with unfocused faces.  I walked up to the bar.  There was a hot, petite female bartender serving drinks to no one.  She would make a drink and then place it as if there was an invisible person and then make some more and then clean the drinks off the counter.  I sidled up to the bar.

“Listen, stranger, as much as I appreciate teh view, I can’t let you in the bar naked.” She said without looking at me too much.

“How do I get clothes in this place?”

“Where is you trainer?”

“I just got here, they said he would be here when I arrived.”

“And here I am.”  I turned around and the new voice was Hugo Weaving as Elrond.  “This place is governed by some basic rules of MMOG etiquette.  As you are an experienced gamer, we need not discuss those.  Let’s skip ahead to images and clothing.”

“Right on.  Where is Earendil?”  I am still a bit of a jerk in my dreams, I guess.

“Shut up, you need to concentrate on an image of clothing to make those clothes appear on your avatar.”  Hugo Weaving turned into Mitzi Del Bra from Priscilla (or whatever his character’s name in that movie was).

“So if I concentrate on an image, I can make myself look like that image?  What about my body?”

“Yes, but we haven’t worked all of the kinks out, you might not want to do that.  The security protocols think of it as a virus attack for some reason.”  Hugo Weaving turned into Agent Smith.  His voice changed with every image change.

“Right on.  So if I wanted to….”  I concentrated on being lithe and ripped and wearing some pants.  I felt something shift in my head.

“Hey!  I said that was forbidden!  Now look what you have done!”  Hugo was backing away quickly and the fuzzy guys in suits were drifting slowly towards me as I looked around.  I looked down at my body.  I was wearing some balck pants and stylish slippers.  I sent my viewing perspective away to get a third person look at myself.  I looked exactly like Bruce Lee from Enter the Dragon.  “Do I know kung fu?”

“Stop! You are disrupting the integrity of the server?”  Hugo was panicking.  The bartender had stopped making drinks and was looking at me.  “How about some music, babe?”  I asked the bartender.  I thought really hard and Hope Chest rose out of the band stand and started jamming.  The bartender changed into some smoking threads.  Her birthday suit. [f*** yeah! -Ed.]

“Sweet.  I got the fight music, the sparring partners and the prize.  Let’s tear this shit up.”

As the security protocol avatars got closer and closer they became more distinct.  “You are virus.  Virus must be eradicated and removed from the server.  Server integrity must be maintained.”  They all chanted in unison.  They didn’t walk so much as move like a laggy avatar.  They would drift smoothly over the ground and down the walls of the cube, but occaisonally their bodies would shift to the next frame of the walking animation.  They were probably animated for about 10 frames per second.  The first one drifted into range.  I kicked him in the face so fast, I thought I had been animated by Stephen Chow.  I barely even felt it before the SP avatar was flying through the air backward.  “Apparently, I do know kung fu…awesome.”  I leaped through the air in a bicycle kick and sent another avatar flying.  This went on for several minutes before I noticed that every time I knocked the hell out of one of the avatars they stood up faster and better rezzed.  They also started to fight better.  It was still a hellaciously unholy beatdown, but it got steadily more challenging.  At one point I glanced over at the bar and I think there were some people drinking and cheering, but I think that I had rendered them there myself for a WRN and 3B cheering section.  They weren’t really there like Hope Chest was.  At least, they didn’t feel as real as the music.  Which got craizer and crazier as I got wilder and wilder in the fight.  At one point, I decided to have a foot race.  I took off running toward the pac-man high-rises.  The avatars all chased after me yelling, “HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT HUT” like in the Blues Brothers.  “This game is going to make billions,” I screamed as I ran up the side of one building and jumped to another.

The pellets were everywhere.  This is about the time I noticed that they weren’t really painted on the floor so much as just floating above it.  I knocked them all over the place as I ran faster and faster around, over and between the little down town of the cube.  I stared grabbing them and whipping them at the security programs.  They didn’t have a whole lot of effect, so I grabbed one of the bigger ones.  All of the avatars stopped and so did the music.  The bartender screamed wordlessly.  I grinned and threw it at the group of avatars.  They went flying like bowling pins and even made the same noise as a strike.  I ran to the next and concentrated really carefully.  When I opened my eyes, I had a pile of the large ‘power’ pellets and started throwing them like they were going on sale.  This was awesome.  I was blowing the hell out of everything.  Bits of the high-rises were falling off and crushing security avatars and some off the programs were exploding in showers of bits when I nailed them dead on.

Bits of static and binary code started leaking in through the holes I was punching through everything.  Hugo Weaving came running up in a suit and screamed about how I had crashed his server and we were all going to lose our minds.  “Says you, Hugo.”  I ran to the bartender and asked her how to unplug.  She showed me a hand sign and disappeared.  I made the sign.  And woke up in the chair on the boardwalk.  The bartender was sitting on another chair I hadn’t seen behind the big mainframe (a giant black cube) and it was raining and really windy.  The techs were all screaming about the water and the incoming hurricane.  They took off running as bits of palm trees started landing around us.  I was still naked.  So was the bartender.  I looked around and noticed only board walk, waves coming up onto the street, pine trees and tumbleweeds.  No palm trees anywhere but fronds were constantly smakcing me in the face.

The bartender wouldn’t wake up.  I unhooked her electrode web and tried shaking her.  She stirred but didn’t wake up. I picked her up and started running along the beach back to my house.  Along the way, it was really windy and there was a lot of aggressive sea life liying on the beach trying to get me.  Crabs and lobsters scuttled around snapping at me from ponds left by waves, sharks and eels flopped around gnashing their teeth at me.  I ran faster.  When I reached the part of the beach where I had started the dream, I woke up.

Apparently, I don’t get the girl.  Even in my own head, I don’t get the girl.  Well, that is how it is sometimes.

1 Response to “Hugo Weaving, Bruce Lee, Hope Chest-Chuckles EXCLUSIVE”


  • Last few nights I have been having dreams about Helob the Tarantula dieing. In the first, there were these weirds crab/cave insects that kept nipping me and there was a massive pen of them. Then I found out they were controlling people’s minds and breeding in them when they killed off the only person who could warn the human race, Helob the Tarantula.

    Last night, I dreamt I was moving and someone dropped a box of kleenex in his cage and when I picked up the box of kleenex he lunged at me and the whole terrarium fell to the ground and Helob was crushed.

    I think he is trying to telepathically tell me something.

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