Martian Robots Dress like Freud
Dreamed 1975/8/16 by Wayan
On Atacama Plain, observatory dome.
Arch-Astronomer says "Rival scopes see
more AND less Accurately. Where you
Aim your Lens outweighs Acuity."
The scope-directing Dials display
Anticipate Earth-weather. Here
On Mars, that Arid dirtball, rolls
a robot salmon-smeared. Cajoles
me to settle here. 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!
And 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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