In which I dream of a space-worthy restroom

Early this morning I had one of those vivid, bizarre dreams that must be shared, but probably shouldn’t be.

In the dream, I was at a fair of some kind: exhibits, rides, games, food, squealing. A very standard community festival, arranged in a broad, grassy field. One section of the fair included demonstrations of wonderful new inventions, the most fascinating of which was the walking tree house. People lined up to get a chance to climb up the ladder into the observation room. Once the seats were full, the ladder would be pulled up, and the mechanical tree would walk on leg-like roots around the perimeter of the festival, giving riders a dramatic moving view of the revellers below. Cool, right? 

The best part of the walking tree house though? The restrooms.

At each end of the observation room were restrooms. Inside the restroom was a wall of tubes, each large enough to hold a grown person. To use the facilities, one would crawl inside the tube and evacuate one’s waste systems and the excreta was whooshed away with a high powered blower of some kind. Sort of like those Dyson Air-blade hand dryers that are popping up in public restrooms here and there. In between users, the lavatory tubes were self-disinfecting, so the entire restroom was clean, dry, efficient, and strangely quiet for a place made entirely of brushed stainless steel. 

Because it was a dream, behaving with dream logic and dream physics, I was never quite clear about what one did with one’s pants when crawling into the lavatory tubes. Perhaps they were Heisenberg pants.