Space hopper dreams

Extra! Extra! Read all about Space Hopper sightings!

In the December 2022 issue of the Ottawa Valley Associated Railroaders’ newsletter, The Interchange, I have an article about last year’s space hopper sightings. It’s the first article I’ve had published there (and might be the last depending on its reception :-) )

I was reading the Oct ’22 OVAR newsletter and saw a request from the editor for articles. I got to wondering if I should submit something. I waffled a lot, but it was a dream that made the decision.

One night a few days after reading the newsletter's request I dreamt I was working in an office tower in an older downtown section of a city like Toronto or New York - it seemed like a downtown from the ‘40s or ‘50s, and my tower had an Art Deco feel. I had just moved to the city and hadn’t worked at that office long. On my first day I was surprised to learn that at precisely 5pm the entire tower knocked off work and headed home. When I got down to the sidewalk I decided that since it was a fine afternoon, and since I lived only 5km away, I’d walk home. 

Next day, same thing. Work ended at 5, and I again decided to walk home. This time though I made a wrong turn somewhere and got lost. I stopped and looked around, but the buildings didn’t look familiar. Across the street I saw a ’50’s-60s style, single storey, glass, stone, and metal building - it was some sort of cross between a Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie style house, Philip Johnson’s Glass House, and the original McGregor Park Public Library. I decided to walk over, go in, and ask where I was. I thought once I knew that, I could figure out how to get home. 

I couldn’t tell what sort of business this building housed - there weren’t any signs. It was outfitted with Danish modern furniture, and there were lots of shelves lined with books as well as desks and tables and offices. I saw what looked like a reception desk with two women standing behind it. I approached and asked one woman where I was and how I might get home. She said she’d go get a fellow from down the hall and he’d help me. 

She walked down the hall. I then turned to look at the second woman, who as soon as I made eye contact said, “Mr. Lowe, you are a b.s. artist.”

I was a little hurt by that, but thought about it a bit and chuckled. I replied, “Well, maybe I am, sort of.”

She didn’t let that go, looked me straight in the eyes, and followed up with, “You are and you know you are.”

At this point the first woman returned accompanied by a man in a tweed jacket carrying maps and documents.

Then I woke up. 

I couldn’t let this message from my addled psyche pass, so I collected up some of my choicest b.s.-y posts, the space hopper ones, and made a story out of them. As you know, the space hopper facts are factual, but their presentation is fanciful. Although, it turns out somewhere in my brain fanciful is wedged tightly beside b.s..