Category: True Life Adventures
Why am I doing this?
I’ve spent the last two weeks recording fourteen episodes of The Tales of Deputy Guppy for SaturdayMorningTheatre.com. It has been going rather well. I have most of the audio for the episodes recorded with the exception of my dialogue, which I’ll do as I edit the episodes, and one or two folks who I haven’t been able to schedule to come in yet. I’m excited that this project, which I came up with in high school albeit in comic book form, is finally taking shape in some form.
Last weekend, while recording one of the amazing voice actors who agreed to take part in this show, I was explaining the concept of Deputy Guppy, and of SaturdayMorningMedia.com. The voice actor nodded his head in agreement and then asked…
“Why are you doing this?”
He meant, what’s the point in doing all this work on this show (and on the website). I’m not getting paid for it and, in fact, I’m losing money on it as I made myself promise to pay each of the actors a small ‘consideration’ for taking part. Not a ton, but certainly enough to make it worth the drive to Burbank.
I answered him, “Just to do it.”
That’s pretty much it. I had the idea to do it and I’m doing it. Since Dr. Floyd started in 2004 it’s just kind of, what I’ve done. I guess like a hobby. I don’t really have any other hobbies. I don’t watch much TV, so this is what I do.
He nodded in agreement and we went on with the recording session. The questions though, returned to my head that night.
“Why are you doing this?”
This is when my brain went crazy. I know my friend didn’t mean it in this way but the question repeated louder and louder in my head with different inflections…Why AM I doing this?!
So, I started to look at it logically, or at least attempt to. I’m getting nothing out of this. Let me clarify that statement. Yes, I do get to flex my writing, recording, editing muscles and get to do a little voiceover as well. I also get to hang out with some incredibly talented people who lend their voices to the project and the recording sessions are always a fun time to catch up with friends I haven’t seen in awhile and then have fun laying down some tracks (as we say in the business). But other than those things I just mention, I’m getting nothing out of this.
I’m not making money (losing it, see above). I’m not using this to pitch to any production companies (and I’ve realized by this point, no companies are interested in my ideas). Nothing is going to become of this other than fourteen audio dramas that a handfull of people will listen to. Why am I putting myself through all this? For what? What am I getting out of it?
This is where my brain went even crazier.
Now, let me preface this next part by saying I’m SO INCREDIBLY appreciative of the audience I have. The audience I’ve built up through Throwing Toasters, through Dr. Floyd, through PuppetUp they mean the world to me. But the question my brain led me to is…
If I stopped doing this right now, who would it REALLY matter to?
Being honest, no one. There’s plenty of media out there for people to consume. If I just stopped making these silly little podcasts, no one would start an online petition. There wouldn’t be any outcry for more episodes of an underwater western. It wouldn’t REALLY matter in the grand scheme of things.
So….
Why do I do this?
The new catastrophe dream.
I had another catastrophe dream. The one I had this morning was different that the others.
In the previous dreams, people are scrambling around getting ready for the impending catastrophe. I am with them, helping the preparations and then the catastrophe hits in the blink of an eye. This morning there was no ‘prep time.’ In fact, there may have only been the aftermath as I don’t quite remember the catastrophe or what it was. I just know it was apocalyptic in that the world after was completely different. The population had become nomads, moving from empty house to empty house trying to stake a claim in order to rebuild. This fell right in line with the previous dreams of this type that I’ve had.
In this dream, like the others, I was surrounded by people. In the earlier dreams though, I have never known any of them. They were nameless ‘extras’ who were populating the dream. They were around before the catastrophe. They were around after, but I didn’t know any of them and none of them looked familiar.
This morning I had my family. Mom, Dad and my brother. We were together, moving together from place to place, through the wreckage of a suburban city. In the dream people fought for old abandoned houses. I say ‘fought’ but it was more like, just rush to claim a space of your own. Once someone had claimed a space, it was theirs to keep and the others respected that. It all felt very temporary though. It felt as if at any moment you’d be scrambling to pack up your belongings and move on. I assume as a result of the ‘catastrophe’ though I don’t know exactly what that was.
My family had found a house. It was small, I think maybe one bedroom even. A living room, bathroom and kitchen all very close to each other. We were happy to have found this spot and we were actually unpacking the small things we’d been carrying with us and putting them in cupboards and drawers.
The thing about the ‘world’ that this dream took place in was that even though you had your own space, there were always people around. Walking past windows, doors, etc.. Almost like visible white noise. These were the nameless/faceless people as in my earlier dreams.
I had just finished putting away something when I turned and there you were, standing in the doorway. Our eyes met instantly and you gave me that look. The small mouthed, wrinkled brow, ‘If I didn’t like you so much I’d punch you, but I’m probably going to punch you anyway,’ look. I was so happy to see you standing there. Black hooded sweatshirt, blue jeans, hair down.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
A small white animal ran past my legs, but I didn’t look down, I kept my eyes on you.
You relaxed the ‘look’ and I almost wished it right back, but a smile replaced it.
“Can I get some water?” you asked.
“Water?” I replied, “Yes. Yes, of course.”
I turned to the cabinet and opened it, several glasses stood in lines. I reached for one, a tall frosted glass. As my finger closed around it I felt you step up behind me.
“No.” you said softly. “The pretty blue one.”
I smiled, releasing the frosted glass and grasping the pretty blue one next to it.
Then I woke up.
I’m well aware it was just a dream. I’m well aware it was another catastrophe dream. I’m well aware it will never happen. But it was the nicest catastrophe dream I’ve had.
The Catastrophe Dreams
For about four months or so now I’ve been having what I’ve come to call Catastrophe Dreams. They have been reoccurring with enough regularity that I’ve noticed that they have actually been reoccurring. If that makes any sense.
They have all been different, but they all start out the same, preparing for an impending catastrophe. This part of the dream finds me in a rushed stated preparing, best I can, for the trouble headed my way. I’m always with other people who are also helping prepare, but they are never people I know from my real life. Just sort of those nameless, faceless people that inhabit our dreams.
The first catastrophe dream I can remember found me on a cruise ship. The impeding catastrophe was that there were a large group of soldiers or pirates (but modern pirates with guns, not Yo Ho Ho type) were heading towards the ship with the intention to board it. Some of the passengers, and myself, were busily trying to hide valuables and ourselves to avoid detection from the marauders.
The second catastrophe dream had me in Burlingame in the area of my parents house and there was an impending flood. In real life, there is a small creek that runs near my parents house. When I say small, I mean it, this thing has no water in it at all. In my dream, however, it was going to flood big time. The big, sweep away houses, type of flooding. So me and other nearby residents were frantically filling sandbags and preparing for the oncoming deluge. The oncoming catastrophe.
Now in both of the above dreams, there was an odd similarity in that during the whole dream, my mouth was filled with bright pink bubble gum. So much gum, in fact, that I cannot talk. In my dream I try to pull out gobs off the stuff but it just pulls and snaps like old gum does. I never can get enough out of my mouth to be able to talk which makes things difficult to prepare for a catastrophe with other people.
Going to go on a side track here…the mouthful of gum thing has been in many more dreams than the catastrophe dreams, but all happening in the past few months. When the gum thing had happened enough times that I realized it was a reoccuring dream I did what you do in those cases, look it up on google. So I began typing and….
Holy cow! Enough other people have had the same dream it comes up in a Google auto-fill! (Oh, those poor cockroaches people.) So looking up the gum dream on several site it means basically this: You have something you want to say but you can’t say it. Them most of the sites added that it could be a sign of sleep apnea or a closed airway making it hard for you to breathe. Not what a hypochondriac wants to read at all.
So in the two catastrophe dreams above, I had my mouth full of gum when the catastrophe happens. But this is where my catastrophe dreams get weird…the catastrophe happens in a second. The soldiers/pirates, the flood…blip…it’s over. No big panic or terror at stomping feet or rising waters, just instantly my dream jumps to after the catastrophe.
There I am, with other survivors and we begin the dealing with the aftermath: cleaning up, helping the injured. It’s over. I’ve survived. We’ve survived.
This morning I had another catastrophe dream. This one was different from the other two in that my mouth wasn’t full of gum. I could talk as I prepared for the disaster. I’d already said what I couldn’t say before. In this dream the catastrophe was an impending invasion of some sort of creature. Zombies, aliens, I don’t know, but me and the other ‘dream residents’ knew they were on the way and we were locking doors, boarding up windows, preparing to hide until they were past.
Blink. They are gone, disaster is over.
Me and the other survivors all come out of hiding and begin the cleanup and dealing with the aftermath.
So, these are the catastrophe dreams.
I’m thinking it’s my brain telling me that whatever turmoil is going on in my life, I’m going to be okay and the part that is the ‘catastrophe’ will seem like a blip. Then I can look to rebuild.
Hey, rebuild, that was one of my words for the year.
Anybody got any gum?