IST Infiltration
At the end of a weekend full of diverse food I found myself having some difficulty getting to sleep. My stomach was making all sorts of noises and I honestly thought I was going to be ill so I borrowed one of my partner’s Tums; probably only the second one I’ve had in my entire life to give you an idea how bad it was. I guess the bizarre combination gave rise to the following dream.
For some reason I was attempting to infiltrate a culture known for it’s rather paternalistic views towards women. Actually paternalistic is a rather polite word for it. I won’t identify which culture but those who worked with me at the theatre should be able to decode the message in the title of this entry. For the rest of you the only hint I’ll drop is their occasional killing of mothers and daughters - sometimes their own.
I don’t recall how exactly I infiltrated them but before long I was welcomed into the group and having to engage in some morally questionable activities.
The undercover operation came to a conclusion at my work in which a bizarre rite of passage occurred in which each man was told to choose a woman, or indeed several, from those sitting on pair of bleachers. All the potential partners seemed willing but I had my doubts. For one thing fully half of the group of women were of a different race.
Thus I found myself in an O’Brien-like dilemma (think ‘Honor Among Theives’) in which I needed to participate in the depravity to keep my cover intact but I had a family at home.
Not entirely surprisingly there was quite a bit of chaos as the men tried to get the most attractive partners before anyone else. I was able to ride out the storm for most of the selection process but before long it was just me and a handful of less attractive women. I tried to pick the least attractive of the bunch hoping that I could find an ally. After making my selection we began to walk away and I inquired about her willingness.
She seemed perfectly content but before long and without much probing her reluctance became quite clear. I observed that I didn’t have proper protection hoping this would afford me a way out but she simply said “have faith in your brothers” sounding much like an automaton. Horrified I looked skyward for a brief reprieve and noticed the CBC setting up a camera crane.
I excused myself saying something about needing to protect my ‘brothers’ from exposure and went over to a Manager. Apparently the CBC was doing some kind of fluff piece about my work and I tried to talk them out of it - if my picture was pasted all over the news I’d no longer be effective in undercover work. My pleas fell on deaf ears it seemed until someone took me aside and said “don’t worry, your party won’t be in frame, we look after our brothers”
They were everywhere. They had infiltrated the media.
Oh no. My operation was a joint venture between the CBC and the police, both groups wanted to blow the lid on this story but the police didn’t have the resources to build an effective cover and the CBC lacked the authority. They were working together to put me in harm’s way but if this producer-director was a ‘brother’ it was only a matter of time before my cover was blown. I had to get what I needed tonight.
My primary goal was a special jade bracelet, given to new inductees when they had been completely accepted into the group. With that as proof my account of events would be as good as physical evidence but without it then it would be my word against theirs.
Returning to the woman I told her I had ensured protection of the brotherhood but we didn’t have time for anything before the meeting at the end of the party. She agreed, clearly relieved, and we returned to the bleachers. Shortly thereafter a meeting was held in which I was issued a jade bracelet. I had done it!
See, this culture had by and large begun to respect the rights of women but a core group had returned to the abusive old ways. It was a political, legal, and public relations dance in which the core group stayed one step ahead of authorities but now I had the hard proof. I walked off into the sunset, victorious and morally untarnished.
Then I woke up, 15 minutes before my alarm was due to go off.
Why did I share this with you? A variety of reasons. First I started this blog with a dream, I have a tradition to maintain. Second the story was just so involved and well thought out it would make a pretty good movie. Thirdly I think we’ve all gotten a little sick of the meta-blog (blogging about the blog).
Seems the subconscious creative centers of my brain are quite capable of creating an engaging and complex plot. It even made good use of time, wrapping up all the loose ends and even a tidy denouement.
