Virtually (impossible)
It was a proud moment, and I had to show someone else. My trusted 386, badged by PB. I was running four virtualized copies of Windows. My screen could not display all of them, at once, but I could tab easity around my instances. That’s how we referred to them.
Out in the hallway, someone was opening his door, with some folded laundry. He offerend me a small package of coffee beans, and waited for my demo to be completed. Not a rolling demo; this was in real time.
Why? No idea. That’s just the sort of effort we all made, in squeezing the last bit of computing power out of our diesktop comouters. And then, it all faded to black, and I moved to another channel in my dream.
How did I know this was a dream? The details. The neighbour with the laundry and the cofffee wouldn’t actuaally work with me for aanother two decades. I did not, to the best of my recolections, ever virtualize Windows on a 386. Foulded laundry wasn’t a thing, and coffee beans were unknown. Like coffee.
That is the problem with dreams. Fiex time, and flex details. Yes, I did live in residence, but the PC had not been invented yet. My first bean grind (with a cheap hand-cranked contraption might have happened, but not in that time or place. And why would I want to show anyone else that I voluntarioly ran virtualized Windows, in windows. Ever.
I wonder what I will awake from, next time. Will I be in a place that I have not yet visited? How will I tell.
