The dream is always the same.
I'm my elementary school self. I'm in a laboratory with scientists in white coats who are adjust dials and review each other's clip board notes as they prepare to run an experiment. In the center of the bank of computers and control panels is a large glass cylinder, the tank that will contain the perpetual motion force the scientists have been perfecting. A whirlwind that will run forever.
I tell the men in coats this is a bad idea. It's dangerous. It will break out and destroy everything. Please don't.
We've got it under control. Don't worry.
And they turn it on. The wisp of energy gathers in the vacuum. It spins. It warbles and grows and with a single snap bursts through the glass. The laboratory is ripped apart and the sky is a wide triangle through the ceiling. The cyclone has exploded in the house and its force has returned to its elemental forms. There's a calm.
The scientists say, Aha! Here's where we went wrong. If we just do this part of the equation differently we do it right the next time.
They build the laboratory. They plan the experiment. I beg them to stop. They ignore me, raise the horrible power from its lair, and they level everything they put together. Then again.
Destroy everything you touch, today. Destroy me, this way. You only have to look behind you at what's undermined you.
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