Martian Robots Dress like Freud
Dreamed 1975/8/16 by Wayan
On Atacama Plain. Observatory dome.
Arch-Astronomer says "Rival eyes see
more and less Accurately. What you
choose to View outweighs Acuity."
The scope-directing Dials Acquired
and so Anticipate Earth-weather. Here
On Mars, that Arid dirtball, rolls
a robot salmon-smeared. Cajoles
me to settle. Red. Affirms I'm kin-
dred. A mere Machine.
Flee into space! Fling a Ceres of new
Accrete a Chondrite rubble-stash
On Terra, in my Petulant Crater,
the Atmosphere is Greater, the grav
too Avid. Martian bots Avoid.
Years free of their tin Chatter!
Where my world of Artifice fell,
I scoop a clod of Asteroidal mud
42 YEARS LATER
In 1975, dreams were still a minor (though admittedly vivid) side of my life. Yet from 2000 on, as editor of the World Dream Bank, my job was to debunk Freudian (and other) obsolete, absolutist dream-theories. And my hobby? Put a hard hat on and build Planetocopia!
So when I recently stumbled on this dream that fuses Planetocopian world-building and Dreambankish Freud-bashing, it felt funny. In both senses. Did it foresee my life-path, or did my brain just mutter "Freud, void, Asteroid, eh, that rhymes, now Add some Alliteration..." and this dream Appeared? Either way... weird beard.
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