Certain experimental musicians can create synthetic realities, not just sounds. One, who wears a big pointy hat and calls herself a Witch, is unpopular in the synth community; I admit I have a low opinion of her too. Why, she plays her synth with the flaps down! All quality keyboards have huge fish-fin flaps on the sides, and they shape the output a lot... by ignoring them, sticking to the keys alone, she limits her creativity to pure music. How retro!

Everyone tells me "You should look for a better role model than the Witch."

My own reality synth is strange too, though. It spontaneously changes shape--loses its fins, loses its keys, grows legs, arms, a face... becomes a life-size puppet with padded cloth skin. Look like big pillows dressed in clothes, with a mask-face--but as the changes firm up, it becomes a beautiful girl--slender and amazingly well-made for a giant beanbag doll!

Strange feeling--she's nearly as heavy as a human. Weighted inside by the intricate synth-circuits making her self-aware.

I stroke her disturbingly real-feeling skin. I feel turned on.

And... pull down her pants. Anatomically complete...

Am I really about to fuck a pillow-person? And if so, how? Wouldn't it be the dryest of dry humps? I better think it out now, because later on, when I'm really turned on, I know I won't be able to think. I get even stupider than most guys--utterly overwhelmed by sex. Just so intimate.

The Amiga doll opens her eyes and smiles at me. She likes being petted. Especially down in the bass where you get that throb...

Suddenly the synth-witch bursts in. She takes one look and blurts "Ooh, an Amiga! She's hot! You initiating her? Can... can I join you?"

The Witch doesn't even wait to ask, just peels her clothes off. She has long black hair and is pretty cute, really. A little plump--not much exercise in our synth community, too much time indoors at the keyboard--most of us are either outright fat, or bony like me.

Amiga the synth-girl is turning realer--wooden bones and joints now. Though she's still limp--muscles undeveloped. She's alert now--awake. As we undress and examine her, she watches back with interest of her own. There's a silent three-way agreement to be lovers! She still can't move on her own, but she'll gradually grow muscles, and for now she's happy to try sex as the passive partner.

We try to arrange her comfortably. My witch-friend helps, lends me some heavy string. I hope it's strong enough so she doesn't pop loose and fall off the bed. We tie her ankles to the bed-corners, legs spread, so she's a big slim wishbone shape on my bed. Witch helps eagerly, as excited as I am. Amiga on the bed is feeling hot too; tied like this, we can drive her crazy and she can't stop us--safe to thrash around and yell as much as she likes, practice her new, growing power to move...

And I wake.

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• "Amiga" synthesizer is sexy: buy an Amiga computer! As good as the early Mac for writing and music, and way better for color graphics, which I want to do too.
• Witch: dreamwork itself I think. If my dreams were Jungian, they'd probably disapprove of my getting a computer and using it for experimental art, music and writing. Why, all that's a distraction from deep psychological work! But my dreams think digital art is... kinda hot.
• Fish-fins down, pure music: focus? Not sure. But be slow to trust others' musical judgments.
• Tied to bed: it's OK for me to be antisocial right now, home alone just writing and drawing and playing my synth--developing my art. I was reading about Emily Dickinson and I think the dream sees an analogy. She knew her work was good, even if her era's tastemakers (and even those she loved) didn't get it.
• Blundering Linda? Beats me. I know two Lindas, but neither would invade a stranger's home; my fear was about some third Linda. Craziest phobia ever. Could it just mean my sexual anxieties are the dumbest in the world?
• ACTION 1: Be like Emily and write for future readers... a generation more literate in dreamwork.
• ACTION 2: buy an Amiga computer--color is sexy!
• ACTION 3: beware blundering Lindas. Whatever that means.

I ask her name. "Linda." But you knew that.

• ACTION 4: Face that you're psychic. Not "sensitive" or "intuitive" or blah blah blah. Psychic. Ever since I replicated Dunne's Experiment with Time, stuff like this happens every week.

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