Monday, January 02, 2006
I watch too much TV
I had the weirdest dream last night. Here goes:
I had become a lawyer and lived with my mother. (Shut up.) For the past couple of days I had been noticing a strange-looking man (I'm talking partly burnt face) hanging around my driveway. It had been making me nervous. One day as I walked into the house he tried to follow me inside. I managed to shut the door in time to lock him outside. As I stood by the door panting, he broke the windows and came in. My mom had come out of an inside room by now. I was scared for both of our lives and fatally shot the guy either in the head or the chest.
Now I faced trial. Apparently I knew only one thing about criminal law: you can use deadly force to defend yourself against an intruder if you're inside your home. I was pretty sure I would be able to use this principle of self-defense to justify the killing. The prosecution, however, tried to make it look like I was a calculating murderer motivated by racial prejudice (the intruder was African American). The notion was ridiculous and an insult to me as a very progressive and egalitarian individual. A long legal battle ensued, where my attorney tried to prove through my impressive record of involvement in social justice activism, particularly on behalf of the African American community, that this was a case of pure self-defense—nothing more. I was very emotional and felt like a victim throughout the trial because, for one, I was being wrongly accused, and secondly, I believed—wrongly, as it turned out—that the jury—and most other people—would subconsciously want to find me guilty because I was a Muslim woman.
I was acquitted. When I returned to work at my big-name law firm, I was let go because even after the acquittal I was a huge PR liability. I cried a river—literally. Then, as I sat in a McDonald's moping and charting a course for the future—mostly moping—a group of 6-10 customers surrounded me. They recognized me because of the extensive media coverage of the trial and were very sympathetic. Their support revitalized me and I decided to make them the pioneers of my grassroots campaign for public office (can't remember what it was).
A rather slapdash mix of ideas from my Criminal Law class and TV shows Boston Legal and Supernatural (I do NOT watch that dumb show—I just happened to catch one episode), this dream was unbelievably cheesy and elaborate. Guess this is a sign I need to wean myself from the dumb machine for a while.
I had become a lawyer and lived with my mother. (Shut up.) For the past couple of days I had been noticing a strange-looking man (I'm talking partly burnt face) hanging around my driveway. It had been making me nervous. One day as I walked into the house he tried to follow me inside. I managed to shut the door in time to lock him outside. As I stood by the door panting, he broke the windows and came in. My mom had come out of an inside room by now. I was scared for both of our lives and fatally shot the guy either in the head or the chest.
Now I faced trial. Apparently I knew only one thing about criminal law: you can use deadly force to defend yourself against an intruder if you're inside your home. I was pretty sure I would be able to use this principle of self-defense to justify the killing. The prosecution, however, tried to make it look like I was a calculating murderer motivated by racial prejudice (the intruder was African American). The notion was ridiculous and an insult to me as a very progressive and egalitarian individual. A long legal battle ensued, where my attorney tried to prove through my impressive record of involvement in social justice activism, particularly on behalf of the African American community, that this was a case of pure self-defense—nothing more. I was very emotional and felt like a victim throughout the trial because, for one, I was being wrongly accused, and secondly, I believed—wrongly, as it turned out—that the jury—and most other people—would subconsciously want to find me guilty because I was a Muslim woman.
I was acquitted. When I returned to work at my big-name law firm, I was let go because even after the acquittal I was a huge PR liability. I cried a river—literally. Then, as I sat in a McDonald's moping and charting a course for the future—mostly moping—a group of 6-10 customers surrounded me. They recognized me because of the extensive media coverage of the trial and were very sympathetic. Their support revitalized me and I decided to make them the pioneers of my grassroots campaign for public office (can't remember what it was).
A rather slapdash mix of ideas from my Criminal Law class and TV shows Boston Legal and Supernatural (I do NOT watch that dumb show—I just happened to catch one episode), this dream was unbelievably cheesy and elaborate. Guess this is a sign I need to wean myself from the dumb machine for a while.
