Last night I dreamt I was a clone. I started out in a large building, and I knew I had to escape. After wandering around in this other-worldly architectural space, lights ranging from green to yellow to blue, I ended up in a production room. Pieces of humans were being somehow fitted together and made whole. I wasn’t too disturbed, because the limbs were all beautiful and the whole thing divorced from violence somehow. So I stayed, because I realized they were manufacturing humans, and I wanted to know why and for how long.
My first thought was that my boyfriend might be a clone (even though I am using the term clone it really means manufactured human in this case). I realized I had a device in hand that would let me listen to the unique sound bites that represent each human life, and I knew that if the entire clip played from front to back with no breaks, the sound represented a natural human. If there was a pause of silence in this ‘music’ it represented the manufactured origins of that life. I somehow had been communicated this information from the man in charge of the floor – The Boss of the operation. My boyfriend’s clip played solidly from start to finish.
Then, I listened to my own sound sequence, and as it played I knew it would break into silence. It did. And in the silence I looked up and realized I was on a train. The Boss, with me on this train journey, had turned into a beautiful woman with dark brown hair cascading down her body in lovely, large, curly strands, and she began to retell my family history. As she told me the story, each scene unfolded before me, as if I had always been there all along.
The first clone in my family was my maternal grandmother. Her father, the magician Dante (his real name was Harry Jansen), had wanted an additional child, and as he knew The Boss, she could conveniently give him the child he wanted, and she could test her new product. After all, he was a magician, so pulling a child out of thin air didn’t seem too far fetched. This is why my grandmother was “born” on Christmas day. Though my family always thought it was a great coincidence, especially as my great Aunt Dolly had asked for a new sibling for Christmas, in my dream I now knew the truth.
I am the second manufactured human in my family. A direct copy of my grandmother. When my parents had trouble conceiving, The Boss, remembering the good times she had with my great-grandfather, took pity on them, and in some sort of elaborate ruse that included large areas of clearcut trees and industrial tractors, tricked my parents into taking me, thinking I was their own. This explains why at 8 years old, when handed a black and white picture of my grandmother at the same age, I thought I was looking at a picture of myself. I didn’t believe my family when they told me it wasn’t me (she had the same haircut and was even missing the same teeth), until I really thought about it and realized that they hadn’t taken any pictures of me recently.
Back on the train, I realized I had to decide what to do from here on out. As huge, impossible landscapes flowed past my window I desperately tried to take pictures and think at the same time. It didn’t work, and the entire business fades as I watch waterfalls cascade down rocks balanced on tiny points of ice, with moss bursting into huge bushes the size of forests.
That’s when I woke up and sleepily told my boyfriend, “I dreamt I was a clone.”
I probably won’t ever post dreams in this blog, but this one was just so weird I had to share. I mean, really, it was a re-imagining of my family history, which honestly is colorful enough without it. So, hope you enjoy, and don’t worry, you won’t have to wade through something like this again :)