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A drone dream: Big Brother in your drawers

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WND 

Over the many years I've written this column, I've touched on endless subjects: politics, sociology, parenting, homesteading, economics, education. But the one thing I've never addressed is a dream.

This week I had a dream. I'm not normally a vivid dreamer, nor am I "into" dream interpretations. However, this dream lingered and gave me a great deal of unease. I won't call it a nightmare since I wasn't terrified; just … uneasy.

In the dream, we (my husband and two adult daughters and I) were expecting a visitor. But this was no ordinary visitor. This was an official government inspector.

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In the dream, our home was located in rural North Idaho (this part is true), but in the odd manner dreams have, we lived in a sort of furnished Quonset hut instead of our real house. Although the Quonset hut was outfitted with our regular furnishings (mostly consisting of thrifted or homemade items), it had the normal trappings of a Quonset hut: Corrugated steel sides, concrete floors, windows only at either end, etc.

Because we anticipated the arrival of this inspector, we had all scrubbed our Home-Sweet-Quonset-Hut to within an inch of its life. Everything was swept, dusted, mopped and shined. However, since we were living in a metal building, there were still rust stains on the steel sides and stains on the concrete floor. There's only so much you can do, y' know?

A car pulled up into the driveway and the inspector got out. She was a middle-aged woman in no-nonsense attire, and – although she smiled and was friendly – she had a no-nonsense government face, if you know what I mean.

Why was our home being inspected? I have no idea. All I knew is it was something we were required to undergo by some sort of government edict. We resented a stranger coming into our home, of course, but we didn't dare protest. Instead, we welcomed her politely.

She was thorough. She tut-tutted over the rust on the steel walls and the stains on the floor, but otherwise didn't seem to have much issue with our shabby-but-comfortable home. Then, almost casually, she mentioned the drone would be through the next day.

"Drone?" I asked. "What do you mean, drone?"

"Oh, we send the drone to film everything," she replied with a tight smile. "It will look into every drawer, every closet, every corner. You can't hide anything."

In the peculiar ways dreams work, I somehow knew this drone invasion would not be performed by the standard drones anyone can buy in a hobby store. Instead, it would be a walnut-sized machine that would have the capacity to do just what the inspector said: Peer into every crevice of our abode, stripping away any illusions of privacy.

I started to froth at the mouth at this news, but my husband – with a look of warning – nudged me to be silent. My husband is far more politically savvy than I am, and some instinct told me he was right: To protest this drone invasion would be very bad news indeed, something for which we could get into serious trouble.

So I swallowed my anger and put on a pleasant expression as I played the role of innocent citizen. Apparently satisfied, the inspector left. We watched her drive away in her government vehicle.

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But we were left in a tizzy. A drone inspection! What should we do? It's not that we had anything illegal to hide – except what things the government could spontaneously decide were illegal. The thought of a government agency knowing precisely what was in every drawer, every closet, every nook and cranny of our home, was horrifying.

And that's when I woke up. The unease of the dream lingered as I lay awake around 2:30 a.m. I tossed and turned for an hour, thinking about it. The dream held shades of the sinister overreach of governments like North Korea, in which an entire nation is effectively enslaved.

What does this dream mean? I have no idea. As I mentioned, I'm not "into" dream interpretation and never held any interest in the subject. But this one, I can't but feel, had some sort of significance.

Certainly domestic surveillance is nothing new. "Smart" everything, from vacuum cleaners to phones to toilets to mattress pads, supply far too much information to outside agencies (one of the reasons we refuse to ever acquire any of these "conveniences").

Just recently, to supposedly stop people from exchanging non-consensual artificial intelligence images of a sexual nature, the Biden administration declared it wants to probe everyone's smartphones as part of a sweeping surveillance effort.

And the World Economic Forum is pushing drone technology for a myriad of "useful" purposes. "Drone technology holds immense potential to solve global challenges in healthcare, food security, climate, work safety, biodiversity and more," we're told.

But official inspections of everyone's homes? Could anything like that ever come to pass?

To top things off, during the writing of this column, Trump was pronounced guilty on all 34 counts of records violations in one of the most ridiculous kangaroo courts of the century. Are walnut-sized drones and official government home probes really outside the realm of possibility?

Once upon a time in America, surveillance of citizens would have been unthinkable. Now, it's the norm. Nearly every alphabet agency is being weaponized against citizens.

Some of you reading this may be thinking that I've slipped a gear; that I've become paranoid; that I'm a conspiracy nut. But ask yourself this: As little as 20 years ago, would you have believed a major presidential candidate and past president would be accused and impeached over now-proven lies by multiple federal agencies? That a known pedophile with a private island stocked with underage girls would commit suicide in prison during a brief outage of the cameras outside his cell? That his accomplice would be found guilty of pimping those girls to a known list of the wealthy and powerful, none of whom are charged?

You can't be paranoid if they are really out to get you. God help America.

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