George Takei Dream

July 15, 2011

I don’t usually dream about Mr. Takei, but I’ve been working on my ‘StarTreKomics’ so much for this website, that he was bound to pop up sooner or later.

The dream began with me and my sister (K) at a beautiful old theater palace, to watch what we think will just be a lecture by George Takei.

It turns out to be a magnificent production of a play where George is the protagonist.

When the curtains open, we see George rise from a futon on the floor, dressed in light blue satin pajamas.  He is a rich man, but a spiritual one. He does some yoga stretches, then the scene changes.

We are now in a lush Polynesian village where little children dance in a circle, dressed in white, waving white origami bird puppets and streamers above their heads. It’s so beautiful it chokes me up.

The mothers and fathers of these children smile and join in the dance.  George enters shirtless, in white pants, with a red tattooed symbol over his heart. He joins in the dance, and this is a very happy place.

Yet every time I try to take a picture, my camera dies! (Naturally!) I’m also trying to get my sister to watch this lovely scene, but she’s moved to a corner of the auditorium, busily editing manuscripts.

Yet the next scene is as tragic as the last was joyful.   George is alone, head down, slowly walking from the now empty village, where we assume he was the only survivor. There are bare, thin black tree silhouettes against a gray sky, and traces of smoke billow around him.  He has lost everything.  He stops, looks to the sky, inhales deeply and straightens his shoulders. Standing tall, he walks determined toward his future.

(Now the dream gets goofy).

Suddenly the stage is empty, and a podium appears with Leonard Nimoy behind it (Wha-a-a?) He’s about to give the epilogue of the story. But as I try to take a picture, Nimoy and the podium are no longer live in front of us, but projected as a movie image that gets smaller and smaller until it’s gone.

The curtains close, and George comes out in a silk taupe colored ghi like the one David Carradine wore on Kung Fu!   He sits serenely cross-legged on the hardwood floor in front of us and asks the audience for questions about this profound performance.

(Camera’s not working again)

I try to tell him how moved by the show I was, but I hear an obnoxious woman ask him a stupid question about Star Trek.

George graciously ignores the question, closes his eyes, smiles thinly, and fades into nothingness.

He leaves us asking, “Was any of this real?”

Then I woke up.

The most startling thing to me about this whole dream was how vivid and cohesive it was. Dreams like this are few and far between, but what a nice surprise! Wishing you all sweet dreams.

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