sheldon_dream.txt

sheldon play (Mar 6th, 2015)
sheldon puts on a play, but he takes a ver very long time to come out, 
the title of the play is “my implacity is my service”. people start to 
talk to each other “what is going on?” someone goes and opens the curtain , 
and a sculpture of a sheep is inside the curtains.   then people start laughing, 
and making fun of sheldon. one person in particular makes fun of sheldon, 
on all the silly things he had done throughout out his life….  it is later 
revealed that the person making fun of sheldon was sheldon himself, and he 
takes a rose out, turning the hate into joy.
 
(my definition of the word implacity, is something like being rude)
 
after discussing this dream with Greg, I found myself pondering why it seems 
like some of my dreams seem so well made that it would seem as if an expert 
writer wrote them.    but, Greg says I made the dream, I did not fee like I
agreed, cause it did not feel as if I made the dream, I mean, I did not feel as 
if I sat down to write the script or anything, there was no effort on my part. 
it was like just sitting at a TV and watching a show….   so how can chemicals 
come up with such a story? I admit I am pondering this question kid of seriously…. 
if it is not me, then who?  if it is me, it is a totally unconscious part of me, 
so it does not feel as if it is me.
 

Greg is my british firend in Japan.
it was an Avant-Garde Theatre thinggy.