Whalewars haunting my dreams

A dark gothic comedy unfolded in my dreams yesterday night… of Steemit, of whale wars, of protests and sinister plans….

What's going on man?

Has Steemit taken so much of my mind-space that it will not even allow me a good night's sleep? It's fucking up my brains…

I can't remember all the details… they are grainy now, like old video footage, spots here and there… but I can remember narrow alleys, dingy stairs and some dark conversations….

Image Credit: @berniesanders & @haejin

I don't know what could have triggered such a bizarre dream, but I suspect the recent to and fro that happened between @haejin and @transisto or more likely between @haejin and @berniesanders.

Any of you can nuke my post to oblivion but I really saw this dream and I tried to maintain my plankton insignificance in the dream as well 😁

Well, @haejin may get pissed off a little bit, but man I don't have control of what I see in my dreams, so if you are reading this, just take it as a joke and nothing personal.

Now back to my dream, with another disclaimer

It's just a dream and any resemblance to any Steemian living or dead is dreamily coincidental and out of my control 😝. It's just fun, comedy, satire, like political cartoons, don't bomb the cartoonist like they did with Charlie Hebdo, please! Some rewards will be awesome, though 😉

So here goes the dream.

Image Credit

The Saga of the Whale Wars

Whispers in a bus

I, the plankton, board an old bus in the bustling Indian metropolis of Kolkata. I am as usual browsing through Steemit posts on my mobile when I overhear some conversations, someone is talking something about Steemit and protests. There are whispers among a group of people in the bus and it gets me interested. I try to listen in, but cannot make out all the details.

The bus squeaks to a stop and the group gets down from the bus. I see them crossing the street and getting into a side alley. I can't hold onto my curiosity and get down as well as the bus driver hits the accelerator. The bus conductor shouts at me.

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The Building in the Alley

I cross the street and find a shady alleyway, dark and dingy, even worse than the usual damp Kolkata bylanes you usually see around the corner. To the left is an old building, perhaps it was dark red in color once upon a time, but darkened long dead moss covers most of the facade now. There's no one to be seen, I start climbing the stairs.

The Conspirators

I find myself in a room full of young men and women, creating protest placards. I have seen such people so many times while growing up in West Bengal, a state ruled by democratically elected communists for three decades. Protests and rallies are part of life here. But this is different. This protest is not against any institutional power, but against those who fight @haejin.

An Old Friend

One of them turns towards me and to my surprise, I know him. He was in my class back in school. He identifies me and gives me a smile. He asks me to join them in their fight for justice. They seem to be well connected to the Communists from the far-east. I tell him that I am not so sure, that I am just a plankton. What do I know about men of power? It seems to me I am a tiny hobbit being washed away in a war among great powers on Middle Earth.

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The Conspiracy

They are not too happy with my response but go on with their business. I cannot hear half of what they are saying but figure out they are planning something big. One statement catches my attention, they are talking about dropping the bomb on Portugal. I am shocked and immediately think of my Steemit friend from Portugal. I had to get away and alert everyone.

The Lady with the Sweets

Perhaps they see some change in my bearings, they start talking about me being a double agent. I fumble and mumble and ask them to excuse me, I tell them that I have some other business.

I don't know how I am back in the stairs, rushing down as quickly as possible without raising doubts. A lady offers me roshogolla, the famous Bengali sweet in a plate as she is not happy that I am leaving without even having some sweets. Typical Bengali hospitality, I think. I say something and come out of the building.

I can't remember anything more. What a bizarre and sweet end to a bizarre story.

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Why did I see this dream?

Did I connect @haejin's Korean origin, @bernniesander's joke which @haejin took as racism and the recent news of Donald Trump and Kim Jong-Un willing to talk to each other? Did my re-reading of how Trump and Kim called each other rocket-man and mad-man respectively draw parallels in my mind with the Steemit situation where Trump became Bernie and Kim Haejin?

I do not know.

First World War Parallels where no party was absolutely right or wrong

This fight is perhaps like the first world war where no side was really wrong, contrary to the popular belief among the allied circles. The bloody gory details in the below podcast series on the World War I by the awesome Dan Carlin will perhaps give all of the warring parties some perspective of what may happen when things go out of control even though everyone thought they were correct in their own rights in the beginning (and they were correct to some extent, unlike in the second world war when one side was really fucked up).

Here is the first episode of the podcast I referred to above, it's just awesome, have a listen.

Image Credit & Link to First Episode

I must end this post by making it clear that I do not mean to offend anyone, and least of all want this post to be read as racist. Just remember the below:

Who can tell what goes on in a mad Steemian's mind while he is dreaming? 😬

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