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Dreamed 1979/1/10 by Chris Wayan

A dream: my friend Lucinda walks around naked and laughing in just a straw hat.

My friend Lucinda returns from a Time Travel Fair in Santa Cruz, wearing a wide floppy straw hat, and a wicked grin... and nothing else. She looks so hot! I want to jump on her. But I have a girlfriend... well, sort of. At least we do have sex, on and off, but we're always awkward together, not quite right. I feel I ought to give her one last chance, but I'm getting more and more tempted to follow the hunger in my skin for Lucinda. And it seems like she wants me too. Prancing around me naked...

Lucinda shows me what she got at the fair. A time-ship! "Let's see if it works." My so-called girlfriend and Lucinda and I all pile in. Lucinda's polite to my sort-of girlfriend--she puts pants on, at least temporarily, and doesn't rub up against me or drool... too much.

Lucinda pushes the starter button. The saucer hums a bass note and leaps into space! We try flying around the moon. Not just as a flight test--there's a scientific question we can answer, too. The experts say if the moon is mostly not cratered on the hidden side, it's probably a captured planet; if the back's like the front, it was our moon from the start.

But just before we can slip behind the moon, we have mechanical trouble. Have to come back to Earth and land at a time-machine repair shop in San Mateo, the California suburb where I grew up.

We might as well stock up at the corner grocery, while the mechanic looks at our ship. We had only three cans of food for the journey. Not too appetizing either--one can was catfood. One is oysters. My difficult girlfriend opens the can and gobbles all the oysters, cold. Like the salt-sucking creature on the very first Star Trek show, her weird craving proves She's The Murderer...

DAMN! Or was that HURRAY? If my girlfriend's a monster, I'm free to go after Lucinda, isn't that fair?

Not yet, though. There in the kitchen, snacking, is a scientist I know. He tells me genially "I've rigged up some bombs that'll blow the house apart. You might survive though, if you hid in that far corner. Or you might not." Oh, gee, thanks.

Time's so much on my mind, I never even consider just running out of the house. Instead, I run through time! I don't need a machine--desperation's my rocket power.
A dream: Witweet, my great-great-great-great-grandchild, who looks like a poodle, defuses a bomb while my so-called friends point and laugh at him. Click to enlarge.

I travel six generations forward, one with each giant step I take. In each generation, I meet another Chris Wayan and ask for help defusing that bomb. Only the sixth one thinks he can--and I have my doubts. I've come a long way into a strange future. This Chris, who's supposedly my descendant, looks like an alien I just read about called Witweet: a small effeminate furry egg on stilts. Like a dancing toy poodle.

Poodle or not, he's all the help I've got. Witweet Wayan comes back through time with me, to help.

As we pop into the present, Lucinda (whose pants are off again) AND my oyster-monster-girlfriend AND the Mad Scientist all gape at us and burst out laughing. "THIS is your bomb expert?" They find little Witweet ridiculous! And through their eyes, I almost do.

But I give him the chance. Hover and hand him tools. Clever little paws. Their laughter fades. Click. The detonator's disconnected! He's defused it.

Solved a problem none of them could!

I think I've found a valuable ally. Poodle or not.


My sixth-generation self, that is!
A dream: Witweet, my great-great-great-great-grandchild, who looks like a poodle, comes back through time to defuse a bomb no one else can.

LISTS AND LINKS: flirting - following your urges and hunches - nudity and exhibitionist dreams - butch and femme - space - life-paths - weird food - dream bombs - time travel - alter egos - dream critters - dream dogs - mistrust and trust - another Poul Anderson-inspired dream - the witweets get their own planet: Lyr

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