I am a secret agent. Trench coat, slouch hat, the works. I come home to my apartment in central Florida, open the door and step into a room full of water. (Dream logic: none of the water rushes out when I open the door.) Inside, is a beautiful blonde woman sitting on the couch. Little bubbles issue from her mouth. She motions up towards the ceiling. I float up and find a little air pocket there. We gulp big breaths and then swim back down to the furniture. She tries to tell me about the case that I have been offered, but we can't speak or hear well underwater. Finally I get the basics: I am going to be an astronaut and I need to go see a certain man down in Disneyworld. Check.
Next I am trying to get across a crowded room in the theme park. I am having difficulties because some guest is staging an impromptu pirate show right in the lobby area. People have gathered and made a traffic snarl. Finally I make it up some stairs to a balcony and am looking down at the performance. I mutter outloud: "He's not even a real pirate..." and a voice behind me says: "Would you like to meet some real pirates?" I turn and a smiling, non-descript man is there. We shake hands. He is my contact. We exit the crowded room through a side door and head down Main Street USA, and I hear all about Disney's space exploration department.
Finally he stops at another blank side door and cautions me: "Don't be alarmed by what you see in here." We enter. Inside is a generic break room. Folding table, Coke machine, Labor Department posters. Seated around the table are all of the Pirates from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. They are all talking animatedly, drinking Coca Cola, and gesturing exactly like they do in the ride. I am flabbergasted. "You mean...they're real people? Not audio-animatronics?" My contact nods while still staring at them. "Its kinda sad, but they seem content enough." I am speechless. "But-how-why-who are they?" I finally squeek out. He smiles and turns to me. "They're volunteers." I take that in. "For forty years? Doing exactly the same thing a million times a day?" He nods. "When did the Pirates ride open in Disneyland?" I answer: "1963." He nods again. "And when were all of those government LSD tests taking place?"
We leave the pirates break room and head for the Mission to Mars exhibit in Tomorrowland. Deep inside the building is a real launchpad. I am fitted for a space suit and shown to a small capsule with big silver ears. As I am being strapped in to the spartan chamber by my contact an idea hits me. "Hey, there's two theme parks and two pirate rides. Where did the other pirates come from?" My contact nods appreciatively. "Very good. Now answer me this: When did Disneyworld open?" I answer: "1971." He finishes strapping me in and steps back. "And when did the government start their cloning experiments?"
I flip my visor up. "Won't I be seen when I blast off?" He fiddles with some controls across the almost empty capsule. "Sure. But -" He checks his watch, "its getting on fireworks time, and plus, you look like a silver Mickey balloon. Allow for a little perspective shift and an exciting day and people will think you are a small balloon up close and not a large space ship far away." I think about this and he anticipates my next question. "No rocket motor either. You'll just float up like a big balloon." I smile. "Let me guess. Secret government anti-gravity tests?"
He winks and turns to leave. I flip my visor down and then back up. "Hey! Where am I going anyway? What's my mission?" He turns back to me, just outside the hatch. "Mission? Your mission is to solve the one problem that the CIA Imagineers never solved: adequate parking." He points across the capsule to a highway lane painting machine. "You're going to spend the next 6 years on the moon. Or should I say: Auxiliary Disney Planet 1. You're going to find out just how many cars it'll hold."
He pushes a button, the hatch slides shut, and I feel myself floating. And screaming.
Back to the land of Dreams.