The following week, I went to the local Barnes and Nobles and purchased a collection of short stories written by Philip K. Dick. The particular collection was "Minority Report and Other Short Stories". Of course, honoring the instigating factor in my investigations, I read "The Minority Report" first. It was essentially, about a police officer, Jon Anderton, who is head police over the pre-crime division which consists largely of pre-cognitive individuals who can tell the future if and when someone was going to be murdered.
Jon is indicated of murdering a general who supposedly wants power over the pre-crime unit. Jon gets away with it (well, almost, he is actually sent to a penal colony along with his wife) because of the minority report. Without going into further details, I did not sense any familiarity with the story until the very end, when Witworth placed his hand on the door of Anderton's vehicle and slowly walks with them as if he is personally escorting them. It is at that instant, I remember having read that story. It was a really strange feeling, a sense of remembrance so strong it is not deniable, yet no proof is available, either.
Most of the other short stories in that volume seemed interesting and like something I would myself write, but the familiarities with most of them ended there. Over the course of a few months I bought the rest of the short stories, and although I did not read all of them, I did read a majority of them.
Showing posts with label Minority Report. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Minority Report. Show all posts
Monday, May 14, 2007
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The day after 6-23-02
The day after (Monday night and Tuesday early morning), I decided to see how much I could learn about Philip K. Dick. Certainly, I thought, it was nothing. I'm just imaging this. I was frightened, yet excited still. I had to get to the bottom of this. How was I to know, that I was about to shine light down a bottomless hole. It was sort of like what Morpheus said to Neo, "How far down the rabbit hole do you want to go?"
I went to the Google internet search site and put in 'Philip K. Dick'. One by one, I started browsing the sites that the search engine brought up. I found a few essays, biographies, etc. When I read a detailed biography of this science fiction writer, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor. My god, how many other writers have had experiences like this, science fiction writers at that. It's like he was really a part of his work. Or crazy, as some may have thought. Perhaps the first thing that got my attention was the year of his birth and death. He was born in 1928 and died in 1982. The 28 and 82 are reciprocal of each other. This, from all that I have read, was a typical phildickian thing to behold. To me, it stood out as a stark signal, a beacon in the night.
Not only that, I had learned through my searches that a few others have had seemingly synchronous events. Special timing. Some have even had dreams. What was really pronounced, was that I learned his middle initial stood for Kindred, which means 'related to' via Webster's dictionary. How fascinating. Especially for me, since it seemed like someone or something, whether it be the ghost or spirit or mind of Phil, or perhaps something artificial was wanting me to delve into the life of this science fiction writer.
My hand aching from tirelessly moving and clicking the mouse, I did not give up. There was more to see, so much more. I happened on a site called "philipkdick.com", a fan site spearheaded by Jason Koornick. Upon entering the website, the home page was simply a blue background with a retouched color photo of Philip K. Dick as a young man. It was a picture taken when married to Ann in Marin County, California. He was probably in his early thirties when the picture was taken. He was sporting a pair of dark sunglasses. The wind tussled his hair over his right temple. He was wearing a dark button tee shirt. His face was slim but thick with a wide goatee.
From my distance I was shocked to realize how similar Phil looked to my own father, when he was about that age or a little younger. In fact, if one were to superimpose a picture of my biological father and myself, I believe it would look nearly identical to Phil's picture. I went about the house searching for any old pictures I might have had of my father to compare. I used to have his marine yearbook when he graduated boot camp. However, I could not find it.
"Humph", I said aloud. The screen saver should have come on by now. Interesting. I tried to move the mouse around click on something to forward on to other pages. It was to no avail. It was like I was meant to sit there and take notice of that picture of Phil. Interesting indeed. With everything that had happened, I was sure that this was another synchronous event.
After restarting the computer (and the point had been made) I got back on the philipkdick.com fansite and began snooping around. An essay there, an interview here, a book cover or two else where. The site was chalk full of interesting literature and art. I got to a spoof page that mentioned a sponsor named Ubik. By then, I had known that Ubik was the title of one of is novels.
It was a spoof add, showing a person spraying a can of ubik onto items and they would turn back to their original state, entropy free. An outline of a large can of Ubik was situated in the center of the screen. They have modified the web page since then. But the page at that time, brought back such a strong memory of being at my biological father's house in the summer of 1986. Not only that, I had such a profound sense of deja voe, it almost made me sick. I felt somewhat dizzy. I couldn't believe this. How could this be so familiar? It seemed like my world was less mine and something right out of one of Phil's novels. At least from what I read about the man and his stories.
A little bit later, I was on the Time magazine website, and had found a page that talked mostly concerning Tom Cruise and Stephen Spielberg, but also had a short snippet about Phil. I should note that Tom Cruise was the actor playing Jon Anderton (the protagonist) and Steven Spielberg was the director. Also of note is that Steven Spielberg had a cameo appearance in Vanilla Sky.
I finally went to bed around six that morning (Tuesday morning), and had awaken around two or three pm having remembered fragments of a dream. It involved a friendship with Tom Cruise and the voice of one of the pre-cogs. It was soft, melodic, smooth, and refreshing. I could have basked in the wake of her sound waves. It was that pleasing. But I could not remember what she, he, or it had said. Nothing. I could not remember. Damn it!
I went to the Google internet search site and put in 'Philip K. Dick'. One by one, I started browsing the sites that the search engine brought up. I found a few essays, biographies, etc. When I read a detailed biography of this science fiction writer, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor. My god, how many other writers have had experiences like this, science fiction writers at that. It's like he was really a part of his work. Or crazy, as some may have thought. Perhaps the first thing that got my attention was the year of his birth and death. He was born in 1928 and died in 1982. The 28 and 82 are reciprocal of each other. This, from all that I have read, was a typical phildickian thing to behold. To me, it stood out as a stark signal, a beacon in the night.
Not only that, I had learned through my searches that a few others have had seemingly synchronous events. Special timing. Some have even had dreams. What was really pronounced, was that I learned his middle initial stood for Kindred, which means 'related to' via Webster's dictionary. How fascinating. Especially for me, since it seemed like someone or something, whether it be the ghost or spirit or mind of Phil, or perhaps something artificial was wanting me to delve into the life of this science fiction writer.
My hand aching from tirelessly moving and clicking the mouse, I did not give up. There was more to see, so much more. I happened on a site called "philipkdick.com", a fan site spearheaded by Jason Koornick. Upon entering the website, the home page was simply a blue background with a retouched color photo of Philip K. Dick as a young man. It was a picture taken when married to Ann in Marin County, California. He was probably in his early thirties when the picture was taken. He was sporting a pair of dark sunglasses. The wind tussled his hair over his right temple. He was wearing a dark button tee shirt. His face was slim but thick with a wide goatee.
From my distance I was shocked to realize how similar Phil looked to my own father, when he was about that age or a little younger. In fact, if one were to superimpose a picture of my biological father and myself, I believe it would look nearly identical to Phil's picture. I went about the house searching for any old pictures I might have had of my father to compare. I used to have his marine yearbook when he graduated boot camp. However, I could not find it.
"Humph", I said aloud. The screen saver should have come on by now. Interesting. I tried to move the mouse around click on something to forward on to other pages. It was to no avail. It was like I was meant to sit there and take notice of that picture of Phil. Interesting indeed. With everything that had happened, I was sure that this was another synchronous event.
After restarting the computer (and the point had been made) I got back on the philipkdick.com fansite and began snooping around. An essay there, an interview here, a book cover or two else where. The site was chalk full of interesting literature and art. I got to a spoof page that mentioned a sponsor named Ubik. By then, I had known that Ubik was the title of one of is novels.
It was a spoof add, showing a person spraying a can of ubik onto items and they would turn back to their original state, entropy free. An outline of a large can of Ubik was situated in the center of the screen. They have modified the web page since then. But the page at that time, brought back such a strong memory of being at my biological father's house in the summer of 1986. Not only that, I had such a profound sense of deja voe, it almost made me sick. I felt somewhat dizzy. I couldn't believe this. How could this be so familiar? It seemed like my world was less mine and something right out of one of Phil's novels. At least from what I read about the man and his stories.
A little bit later, I was on the Time magazine website, and had found a page that talked mostly concerning Tom Cruise and Stephen Spielberg, but also had a short snippet about Phil. I should note that Tom Cruise was the actor playing Jon Anderton (the protagonist) and Steven Spielberg was the director. Also of note is that Steven Spielberg had a cameo appearance in Vanilla Sky.
I finally went to bed around six that morning (Tuesday morning), and had awaken around two or three pm having remembered fragments of a dream. It involved a friendship with Tom Cruise and the voice of one of the pre-cogs. It was soft, melodic, smooth, and refreshing. I could have basked in the wake of her sound waves. It was that pleasing. But I could not remember what she, he, or it had said. Nothing. I could not remember. Damn it!
Friday, April 13, 2007
Alienus Tractus - Part 1 - Moby and Dick
Twigs, leaves and branches blown onto the road from the recent storm cracked and popped beneath the tires of my '90 maroon Daytona as we drove down Mulberry street. We, Tabitha and I, had left our daughter, Elizabeth, with my biological cousin (adopted sister) at my mother's house. We had just finished watching a couple movies in our home town, Capeston.
We had watched Spiderman II together, and I stayed and watched "Minority Report" while Tabby went home. She won't watch, read, or hear anything that pertains to Tom Cruise, or for that matter, Steven Spielberg. I guess you could say it's my fault. After the movies, we went to Tabby's mothers house. Well, I dropped her off (she lives in Clovil) and I went riding around in Gladstil, just 3 miles east. Gladstil is where I grew up. I don't go there often, and when I do, it's just to cruise the few streets and reminisce about all the houses We had lived in while I grew up.
Mom had gone to Bingo, leaving Liza with Britney, my sister. Liza was riding a tricycle, and when we pulled up, she looked up and grinned at us. Britney, and my other sister Shelly, and another girl; the two twins, Darel and Darek, and two other boys whom I did not know were all lounging about a yard swing in the front yard.
"Hey Bub," Britney said. "Have you met our friend? His name is Moby Dix, but we call him Moby Dick, you know, like the one in that book?"
Trying to keep from grinning too conspicuously I gave a curt nod to Moby Dick. He may have been white, but I didn't see what was so great about him. They can play innocent all they want, but I knew the joke behind the name. If they were my daughters. Well, I didn't want to get into that at that moment.
After a few minutes of meaningless talk, Liza, Tabby and I left for home, Capeston. Driving down the broken branch road, I thought, "Moby Dick, huh?". In my minds ear I began to hear that song that used to play on the radio all the time. But I haven't heard it in over two years. What was it called?
After turning left onto Business 82 I glanced at Tabby, "Do you care if I turn the radio on?"
"It's okay, go ahead", she said.
I turned the radio on to the station already preset. To my surprise, the song that would not go away in my mind was actually playing.
"Tabby," I said. "What's the name of the group that plays this song?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "But I think it's that guy Moby. He's bald and does a lot of electronica and dance music."
My mind reeled momentarily. What a coincidence!
First, when I usually go south of Capeston, it is almost always to take Liza to visit my mother. I hardly ever go to Gladstil, and when I do go there, I never stop and talk to anybody. But guess who I stopped and spoke with that day. Philip Rankins. And then, Britney's friend Moby Dick. And then (later I found out that song was "Southside" by the Group "Moby") hearing that song by Moby in my head and then hearing that as I first turned the radio on. With everything else that had happened, this was like a beacon in a storm. The movie I was going to see later was called "Minority Report" based on a short story by the science fiction writer Philip K Dick. This inevitably led to my pondering this author's middle name.
What did the K stand for? This was major Jungian type synchronicity coming into play. It had to be, with everything else that had occurred recently. It's like my own IDIOS KOSMOS has been altered from what it once was, in preparation to receive this information. It was like there was some sort of master mind controlling the way reality works. This couldn't have been just me. Certainly there was some outside objectivity to it. Either that or I truly am crazy, or um, sick.
We had watched Spiderman II together, and I stayed and watched "Minority Report" while Tabby went home. She won't watch, read, or hear anything that pertains to Tom Cruise, or for that matter, Steven Spielberg. I guess you could say it's my fault. After the movies, we went to Tabby's mothers house. Well, I dropped her off (she lives in Clovil) and I went riding around in Gladstil, just 3 miles east. Gladstil is where I grew up. I don't go there often, and when I do, it's just to cruise the few streets and reminisce about all the houses We had lived in while I grew up.
Mom had gone to Bingo, leaving Liza with Britney, my sister. Liza was riding a tricycle, and when we pulled up, she looked up and grinned at us. Britney, and my other sister Shelly, and another girl; the two twins, Darel and Darek, and two other boys whom I did not know were all lounging about a yard swing in the front yard.
"Hey Bub," Britney said. "Have you met our friend? His name is Moby Dix, but we call him Moby Dick, you know, like the one in that book?"
Trying to keep from grinning too conspicuously I gave a curt nod to Moby Dick. He may have been white, but I didn't see what was so great about him. They can play innocent all they want, but I knew the joke behind the name. If they were my daughters. Well, I didn't want to get into that at that moment.
After a few minutes of meaningless talk, Liza, Tabby and I left for home, Capeston. Driving down the broken branch road, I thought, "Moby Dick, huh?". In my minds ear I began to hear that song that used to play on the radio all the time. But I haven't heard it in over two years. What was it called?
After turning left onto Business 82 I glanced at Tabby, "Do you care if I turn the radio on?"
"It's okay, go ahead", she said.
I turned the radio on to the station already preset. To my surprise, the song that would not go away in my mind was actually playing.
"Tabby," I said. "What's the name of the group that plays this song?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "But I think it's that guy Moby. He's bald and does a lot of electronica and dance music."
My mind reeled momentarily. What a coincidence!
First, when I usually go south of Capeston, it is almost always to take Liza to visit my mother. I hardly ever go to Gladstil, and when I do go there, I never stop and talk to anybody. But guess who I stopped and spoke with that day. Philip Rankins. And then, Britney's friend Moby Dick. And then (later I found out that song was "Southside" by the Group "Moby") hearing that song by Moby in my head and then hearing that as I first turned the radio on. With everything else that had happened, this was like a beacon in a storm. The movie I was going to see later was called "Minority Report" based on a short story by the science fiction writer Philip K Dick. This inevitably led to my pondering this author's middle name.
What did the K stand for? This was major Jungian type synchronicity coming into play. It had to be, with everything else that had occurred recently. It's like my own IDIOS KOSMOS has been altered from what it once was, in preparation to receive this information. It was like there was some sort of master mind controlling the way reality works. This couldn't have been just me. Certainly there was some outside objectivity to it. Either that or I truly am crazy, or um, sick.
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