I was on a train without a ceiling or walls, watching the vast beautiful landscapes pan by.  Miraculously there was no wind.  Sitting across from me was my good friend whom I had never met before.  He invited me to play a card game to pass the time.

Each card was about the size of an index card, 3 inches by 5 inches.  The man had a stack of what seemed to be hundreds of them.  They were brown, faded with age and use, yet did not in any way seem fragile.

I already knew how to play.  It wasn’t a game that you win or lose, it was just an activity game to help pass the time.  On the front and back of each card was written some sort of suggestion, some sort of instruction on what to do, but they were simple things that you could do quickly and right away.  For example, one said: “If you get a drink, your friend will probably want one too” – telling me to go get two drinks.  One said: “Think about the ocean and smell the salty sea air.  Draw a picture of it for your friend.”  Those are the only two I quite remember, but they were all sort of silly and stupid like that, and most included doing something “nice” for the other person.  (I suppose it might make a good “get-a-long” game for kids?)

Anyway, the game worked like this: you drew a card, read it, and then could either decide to do what was on it, or do what was on the back of the last card someone else drew (which was a mystery).  Of course, they were all “nice” things.  The cards never told you to do something embarrassing or cheesy or anything, like “smell your feet” or “slap yourself” or “say a nice thing about your friend.”

So that’s the strange card game my subconscious invented in my dream.  Perhaps I’ll put it in one of my books.

Categories: Stupid things

2 Comments

LanthonyS · June 20, 2012 at 6:41 PM

*sniff* If only more people were like your card game, young man…

S P Hannifin · June 21, 2012 at 12:51 AM

Haha… it would be interesting to make it and then offer to play it with strangers…

But in the dream it was a great game… I already feel rather nostalgic about it.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

*