Robert Scoble and Fever Dreams

I was reading somewhere recently that scientists think dreams have something to do with transcoding memories. Why we dream, why we dream WHAT we dream, and what the heck is going on in there is still an unsolved mystery. I remembered the article because I just had a dream that woke me up with a start, all sweaty and shocked feeling at the crack of dawn.

I was tromping around in a big grassy field of first land, except it wasn’t in Second Life, it was a “real” field and just like the mainland in the virtual world, there were cute houses and works of art in amongst the crappy advertising signs and failed building experiments. I’d just settled on the perfect plot when Robert Scoble walked up to an adjoining plot and plopped down looking exhausted. I asked him how it was going, how the baby was doing, and he said he was so tired he was just looking for a cup of tea and a place to rest.

With dream magic, I opened the cupboard and started making him a pot of tea while we chatted about what kind of assholes chop the land up into little bits to put their twirling, obnoxious advertising signs and then he finished his tea and sank into a deep sleep while I cleaned out the fridge. After that, I went for a walk to check out the new neighborhood and out of nowhere a barking dog started chasing me and just as I rounded a corner, my kitty Sam came flying around the corner of the house, hissing and spitting and all puffed up ready for battle. She chased that big dog away and it was so hysterically funny how puffed up she was, I was laughing a full belly laugh, and bent down to pet her, when I saw that she was sick and panting.. and then I remembered that she was gone, that she had died, and that I’d never see her again, and the hurt of it woke me right up.


It made me wonder what was going on in my brain, to dream of a conversation with a man I’ve never met or spoken with, didn’t even know existed until Spin and others on my Twitter friends list started talking about him and I added him out of curiosity. It made me think how these technology tools have really infiltrated the fabric of my life; sure dreams are crazy anyway, but if you know nothing about Second Life or who Robert Scoble is, that dream makes no sense at all. But if you do know, then it makes a weird kind of sense, and it means these virtual experiences are being written into the brain data banks in some way that I can’t understand, and they are wrapped up with emotions – remembering Sam is gone hurts even in a dream.

It also made me think about how strange it is to know so many details about the lives of people I’ve never met and people I have met in person because of our random bits of conversation to one another online. And if I ever do meet Robert Scoble, I really have to know – what kind of tea do you prefer Robert? I have Sleepytime, Red Zinger, or Earl Gray. And I really do need to clean out my fridge.

And I really, really do miss my Samorama.

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