Living the dream

The mural in front of the Dream World/Your World Institute was a feast for the eyes, a canvas of vibrant colors and various shapes. Stare at one part of it long enough and the imagery seemed to move, sometimes forming the shape of two people sharing an ice cream cone while snuggling on a bench, and other times simulating miniature dachshunds running through fields of green.

It was always different, depending on the eye of the beholder.

Located in what had once been an urgent care clinic, the DW/YWI had become something of a cultural phenomenon. Podcaster Snacker Burlington – who rose to fame claiming to have been abducted by aliens only to kill them, commandeer their spacecraft and fly back to earth – had been promoting the company on his program for several months. And why not?

After all, he owned it.

And according to the DW/YWI scientists he has hand-picked, clients are able to enter an ethereal plane that allows them to, quite literally, live a dream.

“Folks,” Burlington bellows to his millions of followers, “we at DW/YWI don’t just offer temporary relief from the struggles of daily life, but a life-changing adventure in a dream world of your own making. When you wake up, you’ll be a completely different person. And better yet, when you finally pass away and go to the Great Beyond, you’ll return to your dream state for eternity. Guaranteed.”

Burlington stressed to listeners that his highest calling was to get word out about DW/YWI through the Right Time Podcasting Network.

“I can’t wait to make my own dreams come true forever at DW/YWI,” he’d say. “But I feel I owe it to both my employer and you, my loyal patrons, to continue to speak truth for as long as my ratings remain high – and I remain healthy.”

Although one might think the cost of participating in such a project would be prohibitive, that wasn’t the case at all. To become a client, a person needed only to agree to appear in future promotional segments for the podcast and share testimonials about their experience “living the dream.” And based on those testimonials, the satisfaction rate was 100 percent.

Gully White – standing at the entrance of DW/YWI – had been ready to sign up from the moment he first heard about it.

A loyal fan of Burlington, he used to listen intently to earlier podcasts when the “Earl of Burl” shared startling revelations day after day. One of the biggest was that the state of California was merely a hologram and its 40 million residents didn’t actually exist. White believed everything he heard from the verbose host, so when he weighed the pros and cons of becoming a DW/YWI client, he didn’t hesitate; there was absolutely nothing to lose.

As soon as White opened the door to the facility, he was greeted by a smiling attendant adorned in a pale orange lab coat.

“You must be Mr. White,” said the small, ruddy-faced man, whose name tag read BRIDGES. “We’re so excited to have you here! Would you like a glass of water, or perhaps some hot tea?”

White declined, preferring to get straight to business.

“No, hoss, I just wanna fill out my paperwork and jump right in if I could,” White said. “I’ve settled on what dream I want to live and everything.”

Bridges led White to a small table that displayed the contracts required to become a part of the DW/YWI program. White didn’t bother to read over the details on the paperwork – he simply scribbled his name and began looking around.

“So, do you give me something to put me to sleep and then hook me up to some machine or something?” White asked the attendant. “I can already tell you what I want … blonde girlfriend, 36-24-36, two cars – one a Corvette and the other a Jaguar – a big mansion right on the ocean, maids and a butler. And 30 – no, 40 – billion dollars.”

The attendant grinned.

“Come this way, Mr. White.”

The two men walked to the back of the institute and came to a small, brightly-lit room. Inside was an exam table, stool and handwashing station with a small clear jar of green liquid.

“Have a seat, Mr. White.”

“Do I need to get undressed?”

“Oh, no, no … just have a seat.”

White sat down, and slapped his knees with his hands.

“OK,” he said. “I’m ready.”

Bridges grabbed the liquid, shook it vigorously, removed the lid and handed it to White.

“Drink up, Mr. White. I know it doesn’t look very inviting, but it has no taste at all.”

White knocked out the liquid in two gulps.

“I guess I’ll be getting sleepy pretty soon, huh?”

White took the empty jar and placed it back on the handwashing station.

“Actually Mr. White, you’ll be dead in, oh, about another 10 seconds.”

White’s eyes glazed over and he fell onto the floor. Bridges leaned down, placed his fingertips on the client’s neck, and no pulse was detected.

Bridges opened the door to the exam room and Burlington entered.

“Good work Bridges … that seemed easy enough.”

“It was, Commander. Truthfully, they’ve all been relatively easy. It was genius of you to assume the body of Burlington. They’re true believers, so they’re easy marks.”

Burlington picked up White and put him back on the exam table.

“This human worked at a hardware store, so let’s put a worker drone lifeforce in him,” Burlington said. “The company will get a better worker, and we’ll be a step closer to taking over the planet and building a new Enceladus. Oh, and let’s set up a testimonial for next week.”

Burlington turned to leave, and then chuckled.

“Hey, Bridges … it’s hard to believe how we’ve taken over in such a short amount of time, isn’t it?”

Bridges looked at White’s lifeless body.

“Not at all, sir. More than 15 million humans follow Burlington’s podcast religiously. If he says he can make all their dreams come true, they believe him.”