Bad Dream 223 -- Sailboat Hardware

In my dream, I am in a town -- possibly Philadelphia -- with friends -- maybe 5 or 6 -- sightgeesing and just having a good time.  I, however, have a new sailboat in the nearby water. And I want to understand getting the boat ready to sail (seting the mast, etc.).  I don't plan on sailing it anywhere, just make sure that I understand how to set the mast and which tools, if any, I'm going to need. 

So I suggest to my friends that they visit some of the nearby buildings -- some of which have historical importance and some of which are just nice places to visit -- while I work on getting to know my sailboat.  The hull is in the shallow water and/or on the sandy beach.  That seems to change in the dream.  

The boat has both shrouds and a forestay -- typical of a small sloop.  And the standard way of stepping the mast is to secure the shrouds on either side of the boat, then set the mast and secure the forestay.  Since the top ends of the shrouds are secured to the mast -- also quite typical -- I look to secure the two shrouds with the hardware provided.  To my surprise, that hardware is tiny compared to what a typical boat that size would have.  It looks far more appropriate for a neckalce than a sailboat.  And, sure enough, I drop some of this tiny hardware onto the sand.  And, of course, it's not visible sitting on the surface of the sand, so finding it now becomes more important than learning how to step the mast.  I know that I can get in touch with the boat manufacturer and get replacement hardware, but I really want to learn about the boat here and now.  

(I return to remembering that I can order replacement hardware from time to time as my dream continues.)  

So I start searching in the sand, hoping to see the sunlight glint off of the metal and doing a minimal amount of disturbing the surface.  After a while of this, my friends have returned and are quite happy to help look for the missing hardware.  This I recognize is a blessing and a curse at the same time: someone might actually find the missing parts, but everyone working together is equally likely to bury the parts under the sand's surface.  

My sister has decided to go play with the sailboat hull, pushing it through the shallow water and hopping onboard.  She might well hit a rock or run it ashore and scratch the finish of my brand-new sailboat, but I stifle a warning to her, as she seems to be having such a good time.  

As I participate in the search for the errant hardware, I come across the casing for a bullet of a small-caliber pistol.  It looks to be the size of a .22 LR, but the open end of the casing is narrowed down a bit, like a much larger cartridge would have it.  I turn the casing to the back end, hoping to see the printing identifying its type, but while I can read the writing, it doesn't speicifically call out its identity.  

I go back to "helping" my friends look for the hardware.  

Bad Dream 222 -- Dog Poop

I am doing something at the start of my dream that takes me outside.  I can't recall what that was, but it might be feeding the neighborhood birds.  

I am on the sidewalk that leads to my ancestral home in Baltimore, but I am walking away from the house.  I notice there is a significant pile of dog poop on the right side of the walk.  I consider several ways to pick it up and get rid of it, but decide to purchase a dog poop scoop to handle the situation.

The scene shifts and I am now leafing through a general purpose catalog of home supplies, etc.  I go to the index at the back of the catalog to look for a scoop.  There's nothing listed for dog poop scoopers directly, but I think it may be too specific and so I leaf through the catalog to see if it is available as an item in a larger category, such as "Pet Supplies," "Yard Cleanup" and the like.  I go to those topics that I find listed that might contain a poop scooper -- but to no avail.  I find this both amusing and irritating at the same time.  The search has taken on a life of its own.  

I know there's a pretty young woman who would like to spend time with me, and all I need to do is get back in touch with her is call her and I can visit.  And that visit would be quite pleasant, as it always is.  But the search for the poop scooper has taken priority over this.  

I know that simply calling up Amazon on my phone will solve the problem, and I plan on doing that.  

I wake up.   

Bad Dream 221- Where's My Frisbee?

In my dream, I am in a room that might be a hotel room.  I'm here with two of my brothers: Richard (who is deceased) and Warren (who is still with us).

I am an act in a show being presented this evening.  It's a one-time event, and the various parts of the show (performers, music, lighting, etc.) have never had a dress rehearsal.  But nobody I know working on the show is worried about it. It seems that everything is going to be quite simple -- a series of performers doing unrelated stuff: dancing, singing, whatever.  

My act is sort of juggling, but not in the classical sense.  A primary piece of apparatus is a special kind of Frisbee that's battery powered.  As part of my preparation, I have replaced the AA batteries on the Frisbee with fresh ones.  

Things progress a bit (don't recall details, but I do interact a bit briefly with my two brothers), and it's then time to get my props together and head off to the Theatre. It seems my brothers won't be going, and it's not clear to me whether they simply weren't invited or they don't care to go.  

But I can't find my Frisbee!!  I look all around the room, under things, behind things, etc.  And then I re-look in all those places... but no Frisbee do I find.  I ask my brothers if they've seen the Frisbee, but they just kind of shrug.  Why would they know anything about my prop?  And it's painfully clear to me that my act would be really lame if I didn't have my Frisbee tricks.

The dream ends with me getting more and more frantic.

 

Bad Dream 220 -- Playing Pool vs Emilie Barber

In my dream, I am playing pool on the Crosslands table against Emilie.  There are spectators -- none of whom I recognize.

As the dream starts, the balls are scattered at one end of the table and it's my shot.  There are no easy shots available, so I simplly hit the cue ball into the bunch to try to create some opportunities at a later turn.  That sets up a vey easy shot for Emilie.

Her technique is awful and she engages in that blather that drives me nuts.  Despite her lousy form, she manages to pocket a ball, and an onlooker announces that Emilie has taken an early lead.  

When it's my turn, there are no easy shots again and I try a highly unlikely shot simply because there's no alternative.  It fails to sink a ball.  But this sets up another easy shot for Emilie, who pockets another ball.  

After this goes on for a while, I notice that all the balls that had been clustered at one end of the table are now clustered at the other end of the table.  I also realize that the "shelf paper" I had carefully placed in the ball collection area under the playing surface of the table had come loose from the double-sided tape I had used to secure it to the "floor" of the area.  I plan to re-secure the "paper" with pop rivets when I get the chance.  I'm bummered out by the way the game is going (Emilie has taken a 3-ball lead...) and her constant blather, but feel good about having a plan to re-secure the "paper."  

The onlookers are pleased that Emilie is winning, with seemingly no recognition that she's always getting easy shots and I never get one.  

  

Bad Dream 219 -- Two Snippets

 These two snippets happened several days ago, the same night but different dreams.  Each was part of a larger dream, but the only remnants of them are these two snippets.  They have stayed with me ever since, suggesting that they were important.

SNIPPET 1  In my dream, I am driving a car.  The snippet doesn't reveal what make/model of car or where I was coming from or going to. 

As I am cruising along in the car, I look down at the gear shift ane realize that the car has a manual transmission -- with either five or six forward gears.  I am delighted to make this discovery.  I put my hand on the gearshift and mentally prepare my feet for a gear shift.  I plan to shift just because I can and not to accelerate or decelerate.  

SNIPPET 2  In my dream, I am standing up inside a house and looking out the front window.  Looking across the street, I see J. Pat Valentik standing in front of the house that's over there.  He seems to be talking to someone over there.  I get concerned but curious at the same time: if this is the J. Pat from back in those old days, I hope and pray he doesn't know I'm here, so he can continue with his life and I can continue with mine.  But maybe just maybe he's come to realize how manipulative he had been with so many people and that he's become the sensible, mature, and pleasant human being that so many people hoped he would become.    

There's a slight pause in the dream.  When it starts up again, J. Pat is in the house where I am, and his attitude and language show clearly that he hasn't changed.  He looks at me and I can see/hear/feel his mental wheels turning as he begins to talk at me.  I realize that I am vulnerable to his "plans" and that my life has just changed -- not for the better.  I start to consider how I might successfully bail out of anything he plans, asks, or feels entitled to do.

It's an interesting pairing of snippets and just writing this down helps me see how they are related and how they bring wisdom to me:  There's is a future that I can mould to my own health and the support of people aroud me -- me to them and they to me.  But I have to be aware of who I've been and the snares that remain.   

Bad Dream 218 - Don't Worry About Your Hair

In my dream, I am at dinner with my family back at 1209.  Things are going smoothly, and I am standing up beside the dinner table when She comes rushing in and right past everyone. 

"She" is an amalgam of several women I have known: mainly Mary Maguire and Allison Prettyman. 

She is clearly upset about something -- and barely recognizable because of Her hair.  I have always known Her for having lovely long, flowing darfk brown or black hair; but now Her hair is now short, ridiculously poofed up, curly, and a pinkish orange or orangy pink.  She's rushed past all of us clearly because She wants to be there, but doesn't want to be seen because of Her hair.  She's always taken good care of Her hair, and clearly someone has done something dreadful to it -- something that won't be easy or quick to fix. Her attitude is a mixture of anger and panic and embarrassment. 

She comes back into the family dinner area and starts talking very quickly about what happened to Her and Her apologies and her anger.  No one in particular is talking to Her -- or even looking at Her -- but everyone is quiet.  Her just being there seems to be calming Her down, for which I am grateful.  She seems to recognize that She is surrounded by friendly folks that She knows and who know Her, and I am sure that we can calm Her down completely and make Her understand that our feelings for Her haven't changed with Her hairstyle.  

In the midst of all this, my brother David spills his drink (iced tea, I think) over his food and surrounding area.  While this is a bit annoying, I think the diversion from Her hair is a good thing.

Bad Dream 217 -- Trying to Help

 In my dream, I am in a large, old building -- possibly a barn.  I'm here with a considerable number of other people -- all of whom are working hard at what they're doing.  And what they're doing is a lot of different things.

I understand that we're all here to turn the building into a theater: stage, rows of seats, lighting, etc.  Some of us are working on the structure itself, including carpenters and (possibly electricians, plumbers, etc.)  Others are working with potential cast members talking about assignment of roles, costumes, etc.  I'm impressed that everyone around me seems to know her/his job and knows how to do it well.  

Except me.  

I understand that everyone is a volunteer -- bringing his/her talents and skills to this very large project.  But I'm not sure that I have anything to contribute.  People are so tied up to what they're doing that I'm reluctant to interrupt them and ask if I can be of any assistance.  

People walk around me without any sign of recognition.  I feel I want to contribute to this program, and feel I might have a usable skill, but the flow of activity around me is just too intimidating.  

Ah!  There's some trash on the floor in front of me and a broom nearby.  I pick up the broom and start sweeping.  And someone almost immediately tells me to stop and that I'm not sweeping the right way.  He takes the broom out of my hand and starts to sweep.  Yes, it isn't the way I was doing it and his way is fine, but I don't see any particular advantage to his method.

Okay, now I really start to feel bad.  I can't interrupt anyone to ask for help in getting started doing something helpful... and I can't even sweep the floor the right way.