I haven’t lived in the States for a while, now. I moved out in the late ‘90s; sometime in 1997, I think, but I don’t really remember anymore. I do have vague memories of childhood, though, where we were scared to death with stories of The Future. The Future would be a rocky place, we were told in the ‘70s, where the twin dangers of explosive overpopulation and International Communism would conspire to destroy our freedoms, and deny us access to the things we held dear, like Kristy McNichol movies and The Band.

This, of course, stood in blatant contrast to the earlier optimism of Star Trek, which taught us that not only was the International Communist Conspiracy bound to win, they were also in no way planning to ban the mini-skirt in military uniforms, as we’d been told. In fact, it would bring unending peace to our troubled race, except for a spate of conflict in the late 90s, when a gang of genetically-engineered Supermen with shaved pecs would try to bend mankind to their will with the crack of their rich, corinthian leather whips.

Luckily, Star Trek never happened. The population bomb was a dud, and now we’re even faced with the dreadful specter of underpopulation. The Earth will be a fiery ball of superheated carbon-dioxide and sulfuric acid by the end of lunchtime, and there, at the end, will be Dick Cheney, laughing maniacally while poking the buttocks of human history with a trident made of iron.

So, then. And what did you guys dream last night?