Are Humans the Alien Species on Earth?

The idea that Humans are an Alien Species on Earth came to me in a dream last night. In it, I saw a Superior Species somewhere Out There that perceives Humans as a predatory, invasive species, like Asian Carp in the Great Lakes.  To deal with the growing problem, the Superior Species traveled space to find a planet suitable to sustain Humans and proceeded to banish the Humans to this new planet, Earth — like sending prisoners and bad guys to Australia and America in the 1800s.

Humans have proven themselves to be self-centered, self-sustaining invaders.  We are taking over the Earth at an astonishing rate, destroying our environment and every other living thing in the process.  We gobble up resources like Pac Man, leaving death and destruction in our wake.  We are technically “eating our own” as the people with the most money take out those of us who don’t all over the world.  There are, of course, exceptions to the rule, but they are in such a minority as to be unable to make much of a difference.

This would easily explain the origins of man — some invasive Humans were simply dropped here. It would also explain the disappearance of ancient cultures — as they progressed to a system where there were more Mankind Munchers than Munchees, they just killed themselves off.  We appear to be in the process of doing it again.

Published in: on May 10, 2015 at 3:30 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Strange Dreams: Body Work

Do people wear clothes?  Or do clothes wear people?  I had another wacky dream last night and got some answers to these questions.  I’ve kinda always thought that real people wear real clothes (like off-the-rack type clothes) and that the haute couture type clothes wear people.  My dream explored anorexic models, clothes as art, and runways.

Clothes as art are designed by true artists, but not necessarily to complement bodies.  Our perception of what humans should look like is so out of kilter that models have restructured their bodies to unreal proportions so these clothes can wear them:  young women with the bodies of young boys, women with butts so large they can balance champagne glasses atop them, women with breasts so large they look like they’ll topple over, both men and women with so much plastic surgery they’re not recognizable except by DNA testing.  Hairstyles from which real birds fly, helmet hair, colors that don’t occur in nature anywhere.  Makeup that magnifies, geometricizes, and creates skin color unknown to man.

The dream provided me with a viable solution to some of these problems.  I propose society approves the use of robot models for designer clothing.  These robots could be the women’s size zero or two, or whatever ridiculous negative the clothes are designed for.  They could be made of the same materials as those real-life-like baby dolls with soft skin and angelic,but angry-looking, faces.  They could wear various wigs to accent the designer clothes and could wear whatever makeup the artist chooses.  They would be scrubbable and pose-able.  They’d be seven feet tall with a twenty-inch waist, and legs the length of three-quarters of their total body height.  They’d float down the runway, one foot exactly in front of the other, and wouldn’t trip or fall in footwear that isn’t shoes.  They could be remotely controlled from the audience to perform at any moment to highlight the designer’s vision.  Best of all, they wouldn’t ever have the need to eat.

The rest of us could then be free to be human, to have cellulite, and to eat pie without any guilt whatsoever.  We could happily continue to shop for clothes at Target, Kohl’s, Macy’s, Ross, and all the other wonderful places where we can buy clothes in which we can sit, run, drive, and enjoy ourselves.

Published in: on November 21, 2014 at 7:31 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Strange Dreams: Spanx

I frequently dream about bathrooms; more specifically, having to go to the bathroom. This dream seems to come with REM sleep a couple of times every night and when I finally wake up, guess what? That’s right…I have to go to the bathroom! Last night I had a real doozy which you might enjoy.
The setting is a very old hospital, but well kept, where I was either working or visiting; my purpose was not exactly clear. The building was in nice condition, with original dark wooden doors and beautiful woodwork and the interior had been renovated to look like something out of the 1920s. It was beautiful. But, as with most reconfigurations, there were doors where they wouldn’t necessarily be expected and the design was not columnar, bathrooms on one floor were not necessarily above or below any others.
I really had to go and couldn’t find a restroom. I’d turn right and head into a ward (a real ward, like in the old days) where everyone was dressed in white – both the staff and the patients – and all the bedding was white, including the painted iron beds. Then I’d turn again and I’d be in a research lab. Many times, I stumbled into beautiful mahogany paneled offices of obviously important doctors and administrators.
Here’s the thing. I had my post-menopausal body and was wearing Spanx. Not just Spanx, but way-too-small Spanx. I thought you were supposed to purchase them based on the size you wanted to be, not the size you really are. So, my extra large body was in a pair of smalls. I really had to go.
My first stop was a very small room in what was obviously a closet in a prior life. It had a white painted wooden door with a frosted glass window. It took many minutes to get the Spanx off. If you’ve ever worn them, you know that it is a challenge to relieve yourself, even if you’ve planned in advance. I started to push them down with my thumbs but it was taking too long. Then I rolled them down as far as I could and pushed them down full-handed. They were down about mid-thigh but I couldn’t wait any longer. I sat down to realize that this toilet was out of order. I left them as is and pulled down my dress. I opened the door and started walking, completely stuck at the thighs and shuffling from the knees down only.
My next stop was an unmarked door that opened into a beautiful empty office with a private loo. I quickly went in but it didn’t lock. Predictably, the office occupant surfaced and opened the door while I was trying to pee with my knees still locked. I was asked to “get the hell out.” Again, pulled the skirt down and shuffled out.
Having exhausted my options on the current floor, I tried to find an elevator but with the building’s reconfiguration seemed to be stumbling through a maze. After many dead-end attempts I found myself awake and able to get up and pee in my own bathroom having removed my gym shorts. Bliss.

Published in: on October 1, 2014 at 9:03 pm  Leave a Comment  
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