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diaryland: entry for 2002-02-12 (00:08:00)
In which our plucky young hero introduces you to Standy and Crouchy.

A few nights ago I had a bizarre dream whose concepts are still with me. This is unusual, so I felt I should share.

The dream was of some sort of maze, which was used to entrap people. It wasn't very big, no more than forty yards square, and consisted of a whole bunch of 7' tall walls, with doors here and there. My internal camera panned to view two very different people who were trapped in this maze. (I did not appear or take part at all in this dream, which may be unusual, or may not. It probably means I watch too much television.)

The first fellow was at a dead end, crouching, staring out at the passageway ahead of him, which dead-ended a few feet away. The other was standing in a square chamber, with doors on all four sides.

In my head, a voice somewhat like David Attenborough was telling me things about these two men, whose real names I have forgotten, but whom we shall call Crouchy and Standy.

Crouchy was happy. Yes, he appeared to be trapped in the maze, what with being faced with dead ends on all sides of him. But he knew that whatever might happen in his life (for the maze was apparently some sort of metaphor, or something) would happen in front of him in plain sight, and since he was crouched down, he would be ready for whatever happened.

Standy, meanwhile, should have been even happier. Doors on all sides! Unexplored vistas! Potential escape from the maze, and its mysterious guardians, who were maybe some sort of cannibal ninja or something (my dream was unclear on this whole guardian concept). At first, yes, Standy was a happy man indeed.

Then he realized: there were doors all around him. Doors that could open at any moment and reveal a cannibal ninja, ready to ninj him up and eat his carcass. And there was at least a 50% chance he would never see it coming. Life looked like it was full of promise, but in reality, it offered nothing but fear and death.

Fear and death, death and fear. Not only was Standy constantly afraid of being attacked where he stood, he couldn't even open any of the doors, because one of them would be on the other side, ready to attack and kill. Standy spent all his time, every waking moment (all moments, since he could never let himself sleep), whirling around in his room full of unexplored doors in a vain attempt to have his eyes be everywhere at once. Freedom? Freedom for him just meant that he was trapped and afraid. He would have done anything to be boxed in forever, somewhere there were no doors out.

There's a moral in there somewhere.

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