The Wishy Blade

It's 9:16 AM, and I have just woken up from a very strange dream.  

Walking home from the far Northern end of Court St. in Keene, a street vastly different from the one in reality, I crossed a rope bridge.  On the rope bridge laid the broken remnants of two pistol holsters, which I gathered, imagining their use in a halloween costume.  Also, a thin, silver sword,  partially sticking out of its sheath. I picked that up, too.  Halfway across the bridge, I suddenly grew anxious and started running.  After all, what if the person/s who had left these items came back?  The only thing I knew about the previous owner was that he/she/they carried guns and a sword.  Not reassuring.  At the end of the bridge (which ran alongside the road) I heard behind me the distant thunder of a motorcycle, and in slight panic, dropped the sword down into a small, muddy, tributary of some larger river.  Perched plainly on a flat rock was your stereotypical hobo, complete with bindle and scraggly beard, and he looked to where the sword fell in the water with excitement.  "No!" I cried, coveting the thing already, and jumped over the rail of the bridge into the water, and retrieved it.  As I picked it up, the blade cut my hand, and I noticed the contrast of red on the silver steel.  

Now the motorcyles (they had multiplied by this time) were closing in on me, and I jumped over some shrubbery to hide.  Gruff biker voices shouted at the hobo, who honorably covered for me (hobo code?).  I began to run.  Bursting though the foliage and back to a busy road, I looked desperately for a way to put some distance between my pursuers and I.   A small coupe, Toyota maybe, was pulling out of a gas station.  I jumped on the back, holding tightly to the thin roof rack, knocked on the window as though this were sane, and said, "Go!"

But we were stuck in traffic.  A few cars behind me the biker gang was revving their shit and generally freaking me out.  This must be a magic sword, I thought, or else they wouldn't want it so badly.  I closed my eyes and wished upon the weapon that my two-doored steed would go faster.  Nothing happened.  In a violently helpful sort of way, the lead biker called out, "The sword demands a sacrifice!"  Of course!   I cut my finger on the sharp edge and wiped the blood on the side, and wished again.  Suddenly, the car I was riding leapt forward through the traffic, and we were free.  Again, and again, I wished to go faster, until my eyes closed from the wind, and I felt as though I was flying through a wormhole in the universe, a vortex through time and space.  When I opened them I was not riding a car at all, but being piggybacked by a  beautiful blonde woman I do not know.  She had carried me to Paris; the Eiffel Tower stood erectly in the background. 

She turned to me, and cutting her hand on the magic blade I was still holding, she said, "I wish we were more than just friends," then kissed me.  We made out passionately until I awoke.

That's it.  Altogether, it was a pretty great dream.  I think I should sell the rights to Warner Brothers.  They'd turn it into a trilogy, and it would be called The Wishy Blade.  

Question:  dreams can be tedious for those who didn't experience them, but the temptation for the dreamer is to share it anyway.  Interestingly, if I had said that The Wishy Blade was a vision I had while on Peyote, it would take on a completely different meaning.  Both dreams and hallucinations are usually outside the realm of our control, and yet I feel that people are quicker to dismiss dreams as random, or inconsequential.  Perhaps it's all in the storytelling... 

So, the question is, do you think dreams are better translated in mediums other than the oral tradition?  Does a dream have more impact when recreated on film, or written down as a story than when simply told?  

Should I start a dream club?

Potential mission statement for The Dream Club:  to explore the personal response to dreams through artistic renderings and interpretive introspection, to study the patterns and potentially plethoric purposes behind dreaming via the artistic-scientific approach, to dream bigger, better, longer, scarier, sexier dreams every night.