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technocracygirlSo, after a lovely dim sum lunch with R and S at House of Hong, we went and saw Inception. (Yes, finally.)
I have some thoughts.
Thought the first: OMG Joseph Gordon-Levitt is freaking HOT in a three-piece suit! YUM.
Thought the second: Ken Watanabe is an acting god.
Thought the third: A train. Really? A train? Of all the ways I can think of to die with my belovedest, lying on a train track while the train barrels down at me has got to be one of the single worst possible ideas ever. How about a warm tropical pool with waterfall, while birds sing sweetly overhead. There are copious amounts of alcohol consumed, and a really, really sharp knife for wrist-cutting. Then, you just snuggle together in the nice warm pool until you slowly lose consciousness and die. Doesn't that sound a whole lot more pleasant?
Thought the fourth: Dreams only contain what you can bring in with them. That means, in fifty years, Tom and Mal never had a thought that they couldn't come up with. Everything they interacted with was something that they and they alone created. No picking up a new academic discipline, no getting to read the new novel by your favorite author, nothing new. Dreams seem to be equivalent to Fairyland; you can enjoy, but you cannot truly create or share in creation.
Thought the fifth: Fifty years with only interacting with my orwanderingfey's conscious and/or subconscious? I'd go freaking mad (or astoundingly narcissistic.) He's wonderful and all that, but I don't want to be around him 24-7. I don't want to be me 24-7.
Thought the sixth: Many other people have touched on this, but it's true. My dreams are almost never this mundane. My *daydreams* aren't this mundane. Does this mean that Cobb et al are really boring people in real life?
I have some thoughts.
Thought the first: OMG Joseph Gordon-Levitt is freaking HOT in a three-piece suit! YUM.
Thought the second: Ken Watanabe is an acting god.
Thought the third: A train. Really? A train? Of all the ways I can think of to die with my belovedest, lying on a train track while the train barrels down at me has got to be one of the single worst possible ideas ever. How about a warm tropical pool with waterfall, while birds sing sweetly overhead. There are copious amounts of alcohol consumed, and a really, really sharp knife for wrist-cutting. Then, you just snuggle together in the nice warm pool until you slowly lose consciousness and die. Doesn't that sound a whole lot more pleasant?
Thought the fourth: Dreams only contain what you can bring in with them. That means, in fifty years, Tom and Mal never had a thought that they couldn't come up with. Everything they interacted with was something that they and they alone created. No picking up a new academic discipline, no getting to read the new novel by your favorite author, nothing new. Dreams seem to be equivalent to Fairyland; you can enjoy, but you cannot truly create or share in creation.
Thought the fifth: Fifty years with only interacting with my or
wanderingfey's conscious and/or subconscious? I'd go freaking mad (or astoundingly narcissistic.) He's wonderful and all that, but I don't want to be around him 24-7. I don't want to be me 24-7.Thought the sixth: Many other people have touched on this, but it's true. My dreams are almost never this mundane. My *daydreams* aren't this mundane. Does this mean that Cobb et al are really boring people in real life?
