Wednesday August 11, 2004

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

WARNING: This little number is rated PG-13.

Philip K. Dick answered this question in his book of the same title back in 1968. (This book, by the way, was the inspiration for Ridley Scott's Blade Runner.) So the question of the day is, "What do deacons dream about when they have anxiety dreams?"

Last night's was a doozey.

I'm at my church in Worcester, and the bishop is there. (I won't say which one, but not one of the ones in our archdiocese. This is a purely fictional dream.) I've prepared the chalice for him prior to the start of the service, and he looks at it and says to me, "Would you mind emptying that out for me, and putting in something with a bit more of a kick to it?" (I am not making this up!)

I hold up a bottle of Jack Daniel's, but he wants to stay in the wine family, so Fr. Mike comes up with a bottle of something pink. I would have figured that chablis (that's pink, isn't it?) would have less of a kick than the Taylor Port we ordinarily use, but I'm not much of a wine guy, so you can't count on me to get it right in my dream.

In the mean time, I'm in the back of the church, still looking around for wine alternatives. And just looking around in general. Very relaxed. I look at my watch. It's three minutes to 10, but I figure I'm fine since the service doesn't start 'till 10:30.

Then I remember that the service starts at 10:00, not 10:30. Oops.

I bolt to the front of the church, and make it there just in time to hear the archdeacon do the first set of petitions. (Once again, the archdeacon is nobody from our archdiocese. And I remind you, this is a fictional dream. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, yadda yadda yadda...) It's my turn to do the next set of petitions, but as he looks (actually, glares) over at me, I realize that I'm standing there in my blue boxers, and that'd be about it.

I look over at him and mouth the words "I'm going to go put on a cassock, okay? Can you take this one?"

He glares at me again as I go running off to some dusty storeroom, looking for my suitcase (in which I keep my cassock, vestments, etc.). I find one that looks like my suitcase, but it's the wrong size, and when I open it up, of course, no cassock.

At that point, I woke up in a cold sweat.

Life was so much easier when all I had to be anxious about was sleeping through a final exam, or turning up at school in my pajamas...

(2004-08-11 07:42:33.0) Permalink Comments [2]