CEO, Spaceboy Industries

I had a wonderful dream two nights ago.

I was some big head honcho of some high-tech space-age nuts-and-bolts roll-up-yer-sleeve-and-git-to-work company. We put rockets up into space, manned and robotic, into every corner of the Solar System. We worked hard on creating new forms of air and vacuum propulsion. We toyed with curving space to locomote faster and better. We tore up the earth and built great factories and landing fields and everyone won with us. And me, I was in the thick of things, involved at all levels of production and planning.

That was the background, and though it wasn’t explicitly exposited in my slumberings, it just was, and I knew it.

What was wonderful was what happened.

I was hosting a cocktail party at my mansion. My mansion was nestled on a mountainside overlooking the bright suburban and urban lights of a great metropolis, with the nebulous Id-ian sea just beyond in the distance. It was just beautiful. The main reception area of my mansion was open to the air, and guests lingered about tables with glasses in their hands, or stepped out into my perfectly manicured lawns, which ended shortly at a railing before a steep fall.

Suddenly, excited shouts followed by hushes percolate randomly, spontaneously, and exponentially, through the crowd.

Bright lights are approaching in the deep dark sky … but they are not moving in any discernibly predictable way. Better stated, they ain’t flying towards us as any known vehicle would. Yet, they aren’t naturally phenomena. They are … controlled.

Then, to the gasps of many, they get close and swoop down … overhead … and whoosh past us, incredibly vivid and realistic. I felt my heart thud the way it does when I find myself square in the radial standing wave pattern of a massive bass amplifier. Then they circled around, zooming out over the city, and back.

I studied the intricate detailed designs of these alien craft (now, unfortunately, forgotten in the post-dream state), mouth agape, trembling with awe. And I knew I had to get my hands on them!

Like some Ayn Rand philosopher-king in an industrialist guise, like an Asimovian John Galt, I realized, and this was the most wonderful part of the dream, that it was only a matter of time before I did get my hands on them. Simply a matter of time.

Then I woke up and had to pee.