That's the one where the Spectre has to keep Earth #1 and Earth #2 apart while various members of the JLA and JSA (It was one of their annual two-issue 1960's team-ups) duke it out with Anti-Matter Man. I fucking love that comic. It's nuts. Gardner Fox and Mike Sekowsky. Bought and read it in Cheddar, Somerset, as a child on a bright, boiling hot summers day (a bit like the last two!), sat in a grassy area by the river that runs down through the gorge bit of the town; you cannot imagine anything more idyllic; sat eating an ice-cream cone with my late mum and dad. I can see that day so vividly, as if seen through a weird telescope, even now.
One of those perfect days - we all have a handful in our lives; childhood or not - that seem almost like dreams themselves.
Last night's dream was a weird flip-cast through that issue -- it was an analogue of that story (I remember thinking this, even as I was dreaming it: "this is about this, not of it") -- rather than the story itself (just as the JLA were an analogue of the JSA, etc): various characters from old iterations of the DCU - and this tale, in particular - rapid-flashed past me in different permutations, but all their costumes were vivid mixtures of green and gold. Very high-concept psych. There was something startling / surprisingly 'new' and fresh about these character / costume permutations, yet they carried the comforting reassurance of an old friend.
I'm still trying to decode all this.
Thinking back though, soaking up the memories that are bubbling to the surface while I'm writing this now - the sound of water running down through the river, through green, algae-clogged pools / ponds / mini-lakelets with lock-like drainage wheels and grids (rusting, black-painted drain-wheels), the intense sunshine, an ice-cream kiosk, the happy laughter of other kids, me lost inside myself as I often was - as I still am - a mind-blowing comic that seemed so ripe with incredible possibilities -- looking back to that day now from the other side of my life invokes a strange happy-sadness: what a blessing and a curse it is to be human...
To be able to recall, but never touch or fully return.