the timboucher experience

“Your property in White Oak, it’s been confiscated…”

That’s the last line someone spoke to me in a dream this morning before I woke up. It’s a dream that went on for many hours, which I can verify because I woke up throughout it at least half a dozen times and was able every time to easily get back into the dream.

Just prior to being told about my property in White Oak (I have no idea what that could be a reference to), myself and a team of people I was with had just returned from an unauthorized boating expedition out to somewhere or other to salvage electronics equipment. And while we were out there, we happened across a dolphin or some other kind of large fish and killed and butchered it for its meat, adding it to our haul. Our two rowboats were completely laden with booty and we had to make it back into “the facility” quickly and quietly before anyone noticed. I remember waiting in a stairwell, thinking we were going to get busted, but we didn’t. This is when an old boss of mine appeared and started talking to me about how I would start eating gators soon, to which I replied, “It must be the French-Canadian in me,” (as a reference to my fur-trapping ancestors, I guess). She knew what we’d done and was looking the other way/proud and then told me about my property in White Oak.

The dream series was extremely long and involved, but it began also on some kind of boat, or someplace far enough from the city that we had visual perspective on what was happening downtown. The city was being engulfed in bright flashes and pockets of flame erupting. I don’t remember the cause of it, but it most certainly wasn’t natural, and by the duration of the violence, it quickly became clear that there would be no going back that way anymore, and that we’d have to make do in our new surroundings - whatever they were exactly.

There were many dramatic events which occurred on this boat or this floating facility which we were now a part of, as people adjusted to living in this new accidental community and began jockeying for position and an underground economy of some kind developed hooked heavily into favors, protection and corruption.

I remember also driving small fast vehicles across the remnants of a bombed out bridge, hoping to God that we wouldn’t fall in, but not letting up for a second on the gas. And there was even a part when we made a foray back into the city for some reason, only to be assaulted by “I Am Legend” style infected human zombies - presumably the primary residents left who’d survived the Apocalypse on the mainland.

There were, I think, at least two different offshore boats or facilities with which we were attached. The way social groups seemed to work in this world was that small bands would be constantly linking up with and breaking off from bigger, more well-established, well-provisioned and well-armed groups. The final group we ended up with had a very strong military sensibility about them, and we hadn’t linked up with them completely of our own volition, but as a matter of expediency. It was through them, or one of their number in another distant location that my property in White Oak was confiscated.

• BIG ELK - “The Old Oak Tree” [Lyrics]
• Property
• Whoa!
• Object Contracts
• One of these things is not like the other…