I dreamt of a skyscraper rehabilitation center for great apes of various species, unfortunate noble beasts who’d become disfigured in structure fires caused by negligent exotic pet owners and incompetent zoo management across the wretched globe.
(I’m not exactly sure ~why~ the aforementioned improbable scenario was so much of a prevalent problem that such a specialized facility was planned let alone required and constructed, but hey it was the future in a dream: ask my subconscious, not me.)
A gleaming futuristic location that was baffling built on top of a fully functional but dangerously slipshod oil rig out in the middle of the ocean, that had the troublesome propensity to burst wildly in to flames.
The whole absurd scenario evolving over the years of brain dead factionalism related tension in the wide world due to some kind of eventual “mandatory conflicting ideology compulsory coexistence” regulation; a bit of particular obnoxiousness that had spewed forth from a bloated global nanny state trying to stamp out partisan nonsense among the vast multitudes via the “don’t stop hugging your sibling” parenting method fools who don’t understand the importance of consent use to punish their unruly children.
As most things in the human age both ancient and modern, the whole thing top to bottom seemed like a spectacularly dumb idea at the time, then proceeded to get increasingly worse as time unfolded.
The ludicrous location was jam packed to the brim with chimps and bonobos and gorillas and orangutans, and cutting edge surgeons and animal rehabilitation specialists and just plain old hippies, along with oil rig workers and administrative and janitorial staff for the massive boondoggle of a complex.
They all usually got along (as much as could be expected in such diverse company) only occasionally bickering, however: more often than not everyone was invariably attempting to fling themselves through windows in to the ocean down below, to avoid the constant structure fires that kept springing up from the oil rig operating underneath that would set the skyscraper ablaze seemingly monthly.
No one could ever relocate due to the stupid new laws that had made them all unlikely compatriots in the first place, and they’d whine about the constant cyclical horror of it all on the news every time it happened, while also demanding funding for yet another round of repairs.
The emergency response workers and reporters in the vicinity had become so bored and jaded with the routine of wacky avoidable tragedy that they’d hold impromptu jet-ski races and trick competitions on the way to ~yet another~ raging inferno raining apes hippies oil rig workers office drones and janitors.
The counter clockwise barrel roll through a tunneling wave without flooding out and crashing a jet-ski was the current fan favorite on TV, and the whole morbid spectacle was beginning to morph in to a hybridization of voyeuristic schadenfreude and the X-Games on open water. Yes there was “professional” commentary from slack jawed talking heads, because of course there was.
The apes that knew sign language cursed humanity’s hubris on live TV to reporters every time this conflagration unfolded, while the human staff praised their ability to communicate with mankind, while also disgustingly patting themselves on the back for all the new high tech chimp prosthetics they’d obviously be coming up with shortly in response to the whole snafu.