May the Fourth (Be With You)

In honor of May the Fourth (be with you), I would like to share a Star Wars dream I had a few months ago. Nothing deep, reflective, or Earth shattering. It simply started off as a Facebook post among friends, and then got too long.

Here we go! Ahem.

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So I’m in my mom’s basement, and there is a portal to the Star Wars universe in the laundry room (’cause that’s not weird.) I’m in the middle of doing laundry, when out of the portal stumbles Luke Skywalker…but he looks pixelated, as if he had to be converted into digital information, travel through some kind of computer system, and then be magically spit back out via the mystical laundry room portal. (In real life, I’d been watching A LOT of Digimon while working out at the gym if that explains anything…)

Well, ok. Fine then. I will take time from my laundry to help Luke Skywalker, whose image is becoming sharper now, although he’s still in a daze and stumbling around. Just as he’s leaning on me so I can guide him to the family room, Qui-Gon comes through next. Wait…how are you two alive at the same time? But before I can get an answer out of either of the pixelated men, DARTH MAUL COMES THROUGH THE PORTAL.

Luke and Qui-Gon are still no help within their pixelated confusion, so I leave them to stumble to the living room. I realize I have Princess Leia’s blaster in my hand (where did this…?) NOPE. No time for questions, so I shoot Darth Maul with the blaster. It doesn’t work, but Darth Maul, it turns out, is just as confused as Luke and Qui-Gon. I can work with this! Maybe if I shove him back through the portal…

Just kidding, here come Han Solo, cursing as he’s tripping over laundry baskets, waving his gun and yelling for Chewie, whom I can hear bellowing from somewhere inside the portal. The Han and Chewie chaos pushes Darth Maul and I aside…and Darth Maul ends up pushed inside the washing machine. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?! I slam the lid down, set the machine to spin cycle and wait to see what happens, while yelling at Han and the Walking Carpet to get out of my way and into the family room, so I can deal with the Sith in the peace.

After a couple minutes, I open the washing machine door, Darth Maul falls out, even more pixelated and unformed than before, and I blast him. And he’s gone! I think he was vaporized? No time to think through this one though, because out of the portal comes Obi Wan, Lando, …and John Smith from Disney’s Pocahontas? That’s a bit weird (because the rest of these laundry interruptions aren’t.)

I lead all three men out to my family room, where Luke, Qui-Gon, and Han are lounging on the couches, and Chewie is attempting to use the elliptical machine. Obi Wan and Lando sit on the couches with their fellow Star Wars men, but John Smith commences to wander around the room and say things like, “Ah! So THIS is what America looks like” as he plays with the Scotch tape on the computer desk.

I run back into the laundry room when I hear a crash and find none other than the Emperor. Seriously, DARTH SIDIOUS IS IN THE LAUNDRY ROOM!!! I thought Vader had killed him, but no! He’s here with his eyes, and his cloak, and his lightning and I absolutely cannot let him just leave to wander down my street (I know I’ve complained about the suburbs feeling boring, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.)

Fortunately, Darth Sidious is still confused and tripping over a pile of towels at the moment. So I drop my blaster, grab him with both hands, and with all my strength throw him into the washing machine. He tries to struggle out, but I slam the lid, set it on spin cycle, wait a few moments, open the door and blast him. Darth Sidious pretty much exploded with a flash of lightning that shook the entire house. Emily Kimball has vanquished the Emperor!! I run out to the family room to celebrate, where I am congratulated by much sharper images of characters who are feeling less woozy now. Chewie is still on the elliptical machine, and John Smith has now moved on to conversing with Wes’ elementary school painting of a mallard duck, and saying things like, “What is it like to be wildlife here in America?” And then I woke up.
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My conclusions:
1. It’s not that women can’t have light sabers, it’s that we don’t need them. (Did the male Jedi invent them to keep up with us?)

2. I’m not the biggest fan of the Star Wars prequels, so I’m a bit nervous about Episode VII coming out. But if the next movie is anything like my dream, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.