Sometimes, I think some rather random things. I don’t know if they are worth sharing or appropriate (well, the answer is probably a resounding “NO” on both counts there, actually), but, now they’re out there. And you can’t unread them. You’re welcome. 

Last night, I had a dream.

A dream which within moments undid 25 years of loathing for a a character that is generally loved and accepted by most other folks.

I had a dream about E.T. (Yes, THE Extraterrestrial –  the one with glow sticks for fingers and a Reese’s Pieces habit for days)

Now folks, understand that when I say that I loathed E.T., I mean that I detested that awkward little creature from the bottom of my heart . You see, I have a fear  dislike preference for avoiding the topic of aliens ( which is a long story for another day) in general. You talk about aliens, I’m having nightmares for a good two or three days at least, so, yeah, thanks for that.

A little TOO close to that pop star there, buddy

Anyway, I reckon that it was roundabout the ripe old age of three when my aunt introduced that timeless Spielberg classic into our household, and I had the pleasure of crying my guts out after watching what was definitely the most traumatizing piece of media I had seen up until then.

Everything about the little brown guy just creeped me out; the huge blue eyes, awkward drawl, zombie-like shuffle, hyper-extended arms, glowing parts, and penchant for making friends with pop stars just didn’t sit well with me.

This little guy wasn’t an unfortunately mutated martial-arts turtle or anything my little brain could deal with, he was an intergalactic turd on an invasion mission from that big black void above my head, and he had to go!

That childhood VHS copy of the film? I destroyed it. Figurines? Smashed ’em. T-shirts, undies, socks, and the like? F-*BEEPS*-k no, thank you! Even as an adult, I went out of my way to avoid E.T. the Supercreep. One of the schools I taught at in rural Japan had a little plush E.T. which they always displayed prominently near the window. It creeped me out. I buried him. I was also obligated to teach lessons from a textbook that used  E.T. for an example. I ripped that up. I tell ya, folks, I really did not like him at all.

Until I woke up around 7 this morning and thought about the contents of a dream I just had. You see, in this dream, E.T. didn’t find his way to Elliot, but to me, and it was up to me to protect the little guy. He was being chased by the dudes with the strangely dangerous walkie-talkies, and at some point got caught up in a box-type  contraption. I got him out of there, took him to the hood, and turned him into a lil’ G, with a street name and everything… Lil’ E.

Lil’ E. was legit cool (mostly because my brain said so), and so I took him to the playground to go meet the other lil’ hood kids. Dude was a beast at stickball for real, and suey, and all the other little schoolyard games (again, because my brain said so). Roundabouts where that big fat kid who always just follows you around wrecks your perfectly good day at the playground came along is when I woke up, but I had already seen all that I needed to. 

So yeah, E.T. is legit in my book now. No more passive aggressive E.T. abuse for me. Probably. Maybe.

Yup. I bet you wish that whole story was more interesting, huh? Well, too bad. Go phone home.Yup.

-Namakemono