Reflective Translucency

Really, self-reflection is. After I make a sentence, I like to second-guess its meaning. Is there an insinuation, and if so, why isn't it floating on the surface where I can touch it? Are there hidden patterns? How many words were sacrificed at the altar of translucency, or made to perform in their pajamas?

Where reasoned communication is the goal, the answer is no. Otherwise, an even mix of gypsum and dried plant matter solves the puzzle just as well, leaving ample time for reflective nesting, and the quiet enjoyment of a midsummer night's dream.

As the astute reader will have noted, Lucidum somniantes habitant, servatis in speculo tantum retro Dextrum autem somnium somnium in no way reflects the views of those whose dreams have been prerecorded, reformatted, or translated for broadcast in a foreign market.


Understanding Otto

The sun never sets on Otto's empire, man. Hopping a freight is a fine way to gain multicultural experience, but to fully appreciate the world's history, nothing compares to stowing away aboard a transatlantic flight.

When the plane has reached cruising altitude, I like to first question the captain as he strides up and down the aisle, which is how captains indicate that no one is at the controls. "Who's flying this plane?" is a good place to start, because all copilots are named Otto, giving the captain an opportunity to get at least one answer right, even with his mouth full. Some people think salted nuts are offered only to passengers, but they're not.

If the captain's answer is "Constantinople," it's a clear signal that he's waiting for his ears to pop, leaving the copilot as the only reliable source of historical information. This is how I learned that Otto has been accumulating real estate since 1453, which is even longer than Donald. I also learned that the sun never sets on his empire, so putting the fan on Otto is a pretty good idea. Since Otto is taller than everyone else, the air has a better chance of reaching his subjects when he delivers a speech, or a fiat.

I think Constantine drove an Opel. That's why he lost the war.


The Nesting Habits of Successful Programmers

Self-reflection isn't, really. Even as technology's decadent thrum brings remote viewing to the bedrooms of those who refuse to cover their smartphone lenses with tape, an equivalent crutch remains beyond the reach of the average lucid dreamer, leaving himor her, if gender even matters nowto hobble about in the dark.

Fortunately, the techniques of the ancients are available to those with the wisdom to sniff at page-ranking algorithms, for taste is rarely in the eye of the beholder. Optically speaking, the mind's eye has already done the heavy lifting, sparing us the nosebleeds and confusion that come from walking on ceilings, or falling up the stairs. Speaking subaudibly, the volume of sleepers in the nest has little effect on the content of the common dream, leaving sober reflection as the only reliable means of transport.

It goes without saying that nested lucid dreamers, when observed in a mirror, are reversed not only right to left, but dream to dream. How this might affect the portal itself is exactly the sort of question that wastes what little time we have left for writing software.