Every human head's a jar; our Faces are labels pasted on. In my jar, blue-purple brains Gleam. Or are those dusky con- Volutions really tight-packed tentacles? Yep. Mad labtechs stuff each coiling indigo Squid in the jar as if to pickle and stick Jarhead on a chunky human torso. And then I wake. Late in my day, I Turn on the TV. An old sci-fi Movie--not the fifties, for it's color--but it's hard-core Tacky. Labtechs madly stuff... yes! Blue Octobrains into glass heads of... kids? Creations, victims? Quite a dream-prediction. I tell a friend the tale. But then I wake again To find this 'next day' proving my dream Predictive was itself a lobe of dream. Confirmation fades like steam! What's this nested dream-prank mean?

Next Evening

I learn what it means. My housemate turns on her TV and gets Doctor Who--shrunk to mouse-size, exploring inside a Dalek, who literally is a talking brain in a jar controlling a stumpy robot-torso.

So... I dream of brains in jars. A TV show the next day clearly echoes the dream, so it looks predictive, but I wake to find that day and show were still in my dream, so it WASN'T truly predictive--a type of dream-joke I call pseudo-ESP. But that evening a real TV show DOES echo the dream--it WAS predictive! Again. All this flip-floppy arm-waving seems like a semaphore to me--like the dream was trying to signal its own nature, warn it was predictive, and that what it predicted was a TV image... self-flagging! A phenomenon quite as intriguing as pseudo-predictive dreams. Or real ones.

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