Don't ask where these ideas come from. There's no need. I'll tell you. My head. Which includes, sometimes, some very vivid dreams. Anyone who knows about my Jack Bauer miniseries knows what I'm talking about*.
Anyway.
I recently had a dream of global civil war (G20 versus The World). The G20 had enlisted/drafted celebrities as executioners/assassins. A Celebrity Death Squad, if you will.
It was an automatic death sentence if you were a member of the resistance (which I was), and had the misfortune to get caught (which I did).
However. As a show of good faith (?), the G20 forces permitted you to choose both your celebrity and the means by which they killed you. And a few other details. Like when. And where. Whether your death was scheduled in advance or whether you were taken by surprise.
It's quite a decision. I was thinking so hard I woke myself up.
I feel like a person's choice might say a lot about their personality. Are these the sort of questions you're asked when completing your eHarmony profile? They should be.
Do you go to your favourite restaurant the next Friday and have Christopher Walken march in, just before you have to pay, and shoot you in the face? Do you have unprotected sex with Paris Hilton, then sit back and wait for infection to ravage your body? Does Bill Shatner come to your house late at night, and make you some tea - which is laced with a lethal (but painless) poison - and then climb into bed with you, put one arm around you, and read The Giving Tree while you fall asleep/die?
Is this morbid?
I'm curious. Not whether it's morbid or not (I expect it is), but who would you select to usher/catapult you into the afterlife. And how they would get you there.
*For anyone who doesn't know:
During the 5 or 6 weeks I lived with Chis and Sara way back in 2010, I had a recurring dream where I was standing in line at a Tim Horton's. Kiefer Sutherland was in line behind me. Next thing I knew, he was up in my face, in full Jack Bauer-I'm-gonna-torture-you character, shrieking, "YOU WANT A CHOCOLATE GLAZED!" And the next night, it was a Boston Cream.. And then a Cherry Stick. There were a couple more after that, but never a Honey Cruller. Sigh.
2 ways:
ReplyDelete1: Cary Elwes, dressed as the Dread Pirate Roberts has a battle of wits with me, and I of course die, surrendering to the iocaine powder.
2: Suffocation by pillows by Jeremy Piven and John Cusak, each holding one half of the pillow. Because then maybe I can think that my death was not in vain and helped bring them back together!
I think I covered sudden but satisfying (though I'd want CW to shoot me in the mouth so that my face would escape unharmed) and bittersweet (Shatner with his arm around me, reading: "And. The tree. Was... happy.") In death, as in life, I wouldn't want anything to do with Paris Hilton. She was kind of a wildcard.
DeleteBut what about something unpleasant, so that death came as sweet relief? Like having Kim Mitchell perform "Patio Lanterns" for me over and over again, and then have Leonardo Di Caprio approach me slowly, lean down and whisper in my ear, "It's okay... It'll all be over soon" and then gently arrange my lethal injection.