What the...?

OK, no more chocolate chip, walnut, cherry cookies before bed - aside from the fact that they go straight to my arse, apparently they cause odd dreams. No really...it had to be the cookie, and nothing to do with the fact that I am queen of the weird or something. Oh, please tell me it was the cookie...

I feel the need to preface this by saying that I may have a modicum of geekery in me - I love my titanuim spork and travel chopsticks (made, in part, of recycled Japanese baseball bats), and when I was younger I very much wanted to be the voice of the Computer on Star Trek. I didn't want any other part of me on the show, but I always wished I could be that voice. I watched Star Trek often, have a Tribble of my very own (it guards the couch from invaders), and adored TNG when it came on, even if I had strong opinions about how they developed the psychic abilities of Troi and was pissed they killed off Yar (because, damn!).

I dreamed that I was having a conversation with Wil Wheaton and another fellow who shall be labelled "Wil's Friend" or "WF" for short, sort of online and sort of in real person, but mostly online. C'mon, it was a dream, cut my wrinkly brain a break, OK?

So anyway, Mr. Wheaton and WF were talking about some kind of computer geekery that was way over my head, even my dream head (which is usually much smarter than my real head...at least in my dreams), and Mr. Wheaton was building little Lego streetlamps that actually lit up. He was building them for another friend who was not present, and I must say they were clever little things.

Anyway, they were talking about something computery and I asked them what the difference between one thing and another was, and they got very animated and did...something...and next thing I know Mr. Wheaton had seized root and was noodling with Bob.

Umm...OK that sounds a little dirty. Lemme explain. "Seize root", for them as what don't speak geek (and believe me, I don't usually) means "take control of, remotely". I'm sorry to disappoint the Google pervs. Bob, for the uninitiated, is my computer. Feel better, now?

Anyway, he started noodling with Bob, and suddenly my computer was doing things faster than you could say...umm...whatever you say when things go really, really fast. It was cool. I was inside an artery of information, letters and numbers making up the artery walls, glowing green, crimson, blue, some bright, some dim. The walls of the artery were pulsing, and Wil (I feel I should call him Wil, now he's gotten personal with Bob and all) was telling me about how the artery was clogged with information and it needed cleaning out.

Did I mention it was all glowy and pretty? It was. And then the program I'd been running on Bob shut down, the artery collapsed, and...well, I woke up, dang it. I was really keen to see Wil finish the little street lamps and find out how he cleaned out Bob's arteries and made them all glowy and bright again. Sigh.

Sorry, Mr. Wheaton...I didn't mean to include you in the madness. I blame the cookie.

It was an awfully good cookie, though...