I wonder what the world would sound like if it was normal social etiquette to sing words out instead of to say them. Formal places could expect people to respond in tone or in harmony. It would make quite a Disney movie, wouldn’t it? Sound Of Music would be a reality and maybe people could spontaneously burst into synchronized and (un)choreographed dances and baby elephants and ducklings could join in rather abruptly on queue…
Speaking about abrupt changes, what if it was possible to switch your mood like switching a light switch on and off? One that comes along with a dimmer and when the two-hundred and fifty-six terabyte negativity storage overflows, you can switch it back off for a minute so it runs out in punches and blows and you’ll left with the blissful, floating on faded purple clouds and listening to the softer tunes of Beethoven’s symphonies and ballet dancing with a marshmallow.
What might actually be better is if you could change another person’s mood with the flick of a switch. Wouldn’t I absolutely love to slip some confusion into certain people’s emotional-range-of-a-teaspoon brains.
Of course I’d love to slip in some anonymous tickles and unexplainable ecstasy to some absolutely wonderful people and watch them from a distance as they try to explain, with sparkling eyes, about the unheard joke their glass of apple juice told them right when they were about to take the first sip.
If I had an unlimited supply, I’d add in one of those violent magenta balloon shaped candies with glow-in-the-dark polka dots that tend to carry light doses of oneirological-dazzle. (P. S. Oneirology = dream.)
Then there are those people who you’d give anything to strangle, for only a minute, however, and then about six minutes and fourteen seconds later, offer them a free dose of oneirological-dazzle while confessing your undying love and adoration for them. In my experience, these are many of the most wonderful, fuzzy, random-awesome people who love mauve marshmallow clouds and monochromatic rainbows.
Warm and fuzzy tidings.
T. E. Pyrus