Get Me Rewrite!

I dreamed that I was trying to persuade an evil* Senator (or perhaps an evil Senate staffer) not to allow the exploitation and destruction of a fragile island ecosystem.

After my attempts at persuading her proved fruitless, I asked her if I could speak with a specific young man who was also involved in the Senate proposal to open up the island to commercial interests.

"Oh, he's gone," she said.

"I'd really like to speak with him," I replied.

"That's too bad," she said, gazing blankly into the distance.

I should have known right then that I was in for it.

Next think I knew, I was standing in a pit whose floor was eight to ten feet below the surface of the island. A metal ladder descended along one side of the pit. Then I heard something and, looking up, saw a rectangular metal grid falling toward me. I caught it, started climbing the ladder toward the surface, and faced an earth mover that was about to dump several cubic yards of metal scrap on me.

And my family members wonder why I'm so shaken in the morning.


*My first clue that she was evil: she was adamant that the office dog (which looked like some a sheep-herding dog of the sort seen in "Babe") was a corgi, "Like the royals in England have."