Where The Wild Things Were
After having a dream where three of my teeth fell out I found myself on the great American plains in Dances With Wolves times.
I’m there, on a horse, but I’m in modern day clothes. There are some other cowboys on horses, and we’re in the process of rounding up some wild stallions. We get them all sorted, we settle down, then suddenly to our left there’s some rustling in the bushes. Everyone takes our their guns. One of the cowboys, who is a “Police man” but wears nothing that indicates that, gives me some kind of fancy folding stock modern day submachine gun. We look to the bushes and there’s nothing.
We move on a ways and then someone shouts, “Behind us!” Turning around, up on a ridge that comes around a mountain, there’s an indian war party. They’re decked out and ready to roll. My posse opens fires. I do nothing. I freeze. The indian war party charges and clashes with the cowboys except for one half-naked Brave who, double-tomohawked, zooms by the fight and in front of us, where it’s revealed there’s another batch of indians in a battle line, waiting to attack.
These indians are different. Some of them have this weird cloth armor, and my brain quietly explains it as cloth made from obsidian rock. These indians look weary. To one side of the battle line there are horses towing these ornate sleds. There’s a sadness to these guys.
Fuck it, I open fire. I’m blasting the renegade indian that’s now charging the new indians, I’m blasting the new indians, I’m going to town with my very unfair advantage of having a submachine gun in cowboy times. Time Cop with JCVD anyone? Yeah. Totes unfair.
The renegade indian dies, and all the warriors of the new indians die too. I say warriors because I soon find out that the ornate sleds being dragged by the horses contain the withered Elders. The sleds are like their weird near-death sacred traveling sleds. I suddenly piece it all together. The new indians were being driven from their lands when they came upon us. They were carrying everything that their people were, including the elders, and their tribe was near extinction. The renegade indian was part of a tribe that was an enemy of theirs and wanted their blood. I was just a dude with a submachine gun who suddenly had the awful realization that I was a cog in the machine of evil.
The dream takes a cinematic turn here. We all mount up, and with the surviving indians (of both tribes), we begin a journey up the mountain. A narration occurs. Not with any actual words or with a voice I’d recognize, but it sums up what I’ve concluded and essentially says that yes, here we are at the edge of civilization, taking land from the natives, and we’ll stop at nothing. All we have to do now is take it from the last man.
We get to the top of the mountain to see a medieval-style French diplomat walking towards us, back down the hill, dejected. Turns out that the last man to take it from is some super powerful Aztec guy — last of the natives. His “office” is a rock crag that overlooks his vast and lush lands. He’s in the process of turning down another medieval-style Spanish diplomat. I guess these guys are trying to work with him and take his lands away through diplomacy.
I become more of an observer at this point, and there are some time shifts. We come back on the scene, and it’s a descendant of Super Chief, and the land stretched out before him has some farms and “western progress” on it. We come back again, another descendant and some more progress. Finally, it’s modern times, and any ounce of indian pride has left the descendant. He is now fully corrupt, his lands are overrun with industrialization, and all he cares about is having enough millions of dollars to maintain his new super arena.
Apparently, in this fictional South American land, El Presidente is obsessed with a sport he invented called Calequenta, which is like this weird game of arena soccer, played on an indoor grass pitch that’s like a mile long that has dips and valleys and little tricks that are activated, and it’s played by like a thousand players on each team. The pros don’t like playing it because they feel it’s “too crowded”. But Super Chief doesn’t care. Super Chief has his money and his power, and you know what? I gave it to him. I did this.
YOU CALL THIS PROGRESS?!?!
