DREAM: My Japanese Thanksgiving Adventure
By: Shaun Watson
Tags: Japan, Yakuza, Thanksgiving, Dreams

Post Thanksgiving, I had a weird dream. The cause of it came from eating a specially-made macaroni & cheese plate from my aunt. Unfortunately, I ate this meal after midnight…and it gave me an incredible dream. And it started like this:

Somehow I survived a plane crash. the plane was a private jet, and it crashed in a rice paddy somewhere in Japan — probably near an air base. The air base was near a river, a major highway, and a minor bridge crossing over it. By position of the sun over the mountains and the chill on the wind, it was an early autumn afternoon. I got out of the wreckage and headed to the air base, but some Japanese toughs were near the entrance and had swords. Not sure why they felt brave enough to have sword-like weapons in a country that specifically has a law against possessing weapons of that nature (Firearm and Sword Possession Control Law), but they did. In any case, they came at me with swords and tried to attack me. As I dodged, I noticed they had no real technique — their hands gripped too tightly or loosely, and they swung or poked the weapons like clubs or spears, respectively. This was my dream, so I disarmed one and took his weapon, running off on foot before the authorities could capture any of us.

Despite being in a plane crash it seemed like I was dressed to the nines. I wandered down the highway with the sword-weapon over one shoulder as the chilly wind blew. I spied a Japanese policeman engrossed in his phone and not paying attention to the plane crash (my plane crash, mind you). Hoping to get some help, I tried talking to him, and he seemed disinterested. There were other people at the site of the crash, and they were onlookers: I saw an African couple where the man had a gun, and I saw other Japanese police there also. What stood out were the two strangers: one was dressed in a white robe wearing fake boobs and a cow mask, while the other was an old Jamaican man on horseback with no shirt. They were curious about me and I about them. We both agreed cosplay is awesome and they wanted me to go with them to their hotel.

The dream shifted to the hotel room where we all were in a suite (that I paid for somehow) that we shared with my personal friends, R&B artist Ashanti and Bronx rapper Fat Joe. We were dressed well, every one of us. The dark interior design really allowed the glam and glitz of our outfits to stand out. I had to step away for a moment and I left them all behind. I don't remember what I did while I was away, but when I got back, I learned Fat Joe got mad at my absence and put all my stuff out in the hall — including my passport. Before I got back, someone had stolen it all out of the hall and the hotel had no ide who it could have been. So I had no clothes (except what I was wearing) and no passport…but I did make an itinerary of everything I packed for this trip, so I could just buy it all back in Japan.

There was the issue of Fat Joe, though: I told him if he has a problem with me I would leave, get a new room, and he could pay for the rest of their stay in this room at this hotel. “Naw I ain’t even trying to stay in Japan, yo” he said, “I’m out.” He got up and left, but Ashanti and the other two (masked cow man and Jamaican horse rider) wanted to stay. I told them we would go shopping to replace my stuff and they were down, so we hopped in a car big enough for the four of us. While we traveled, I made some calls to the airport. I got in contact with immigration control over there and checked to see if my passport was in use. I know Japan has more than one airport, but it seemed the first one I called was the right one. The person who took my passport was at the airport RIGHT NOW, trying to leave. “Hold him there please,” I asked, then asked the driver to reroute to the airport.

When I got to the airport immigration control, they had the thief—a yakuza gangster in a yellow tropical shirt — and his girlfriend. The agent told me their traveling ticket was set for a day trip to Singapore. I was very diplomatic and asked this yakuza who his boss was. He gave it up easy as part of his bluster as he screamed “hanase yo!”(let me go!), so I made some calls to his boss. Once I learned who his boss’ boss was, I contacted a high-ranking oyabun (the name of the group escapes me, and I would be mistaken to make one up).

I spoke with the oyabun directly, who seemed to know me from reputation alone (HOW???), and I told him what happened. Instead of accepting his apologies or gifts, I asked him for two things: I wanted to keep this yakuza thief AND to have his records wiped from the yakuza group’s database. The oyabun agreed to all of this out of shame, and I ended the call. I told the yakuza both he AND his girlfriend now worked for me, but he had an issue with it. “I don’t want to work for you!” “What you want no longer matters,” I told him, and I instructed him and his girlfriend to get in the car…because we were going shopping. I don’t know if we went to Shibuya or some other shopping district, because I had to wake up and do some stuff.

THATS IT~