Bad Dream 227 -- Richard wants to burn down the house

This dream is a bit sketchy.  It came to me that way...

In my dream, I am standing in the house Deb and I owned for several decades -- that would be 419 W. Union Street in West Chester.  It was built in the very early 20th century and we were both very fond of it.   

I'm simply standing in the house as several people are moving about.  It turns out that my older brother Richard has a plan to burn the house down.  He's been trying to convince our mother that it would be a good idea, as there would be a financial benefit after the fire is done its work.  Mom is not convinced, but has decided not to interfere with Richard's plans as he is probably right.  Typical of her.  

At one point, Richard slows down his moving around to explain to me how this plan will work.  He talks rapidly, and there's a certain logic to what he says, but I recognize several assumptions he's made in his analysis that are unlikely to work or be true.  But if Mom (and other family members?) are not going to interfere, I realize that there's nothing I can do.  

The fire starts in the upper part of the house.  And I think "Well, at least the fire will take some time to burn down to the lower levels, so the actual inferno won't be as large -- at any given time -- as it might have been if he had started it on the ground floor or basement."

Somewhere along the way, I realize that most all of my belongings are still in the house and will be completely destroyed in the blaze.  I'm highly distressed about this.  Richard's plan is about the house and it doesn't include my stuff.  I move around to try and collect my most precious (emotionally, not financially) items but only come across a couple members of the Zoo Gang.  And those I pick up.

Even though I thought the fire had started in the upper parts of the house, at one point, I see smoke rising lazily through the boards of the flooring into a room that isn't on fire yet.

As the indications appear that the fire is growing, I think/hope that Richard may be right.  But I find it highly unlikely.

Bad Dream 226A -- Djembe or Donuts? -- Analysis

My first "key" into this dream was the feeling that the dream pivots at the empty building and my brief discussion with Al Meador.  When I enter the building, I am in  search of a Djembe.  When I leave, I'm in search of a donut shop.

THE OFFICE -- the office seems to represent my everyday humdrum(!) existence.

WHY A DRUM? -- in addition to the "humdrum reference mentioned above, the other potential wordplay reference is quite possibly Thoreau"s reference to a "different drummer."  As I continue to consider and try to understand introversion.   

THE EMPTY BUILDING -- this seems to represent the here-and-now.  The room has been used significantly in the past, but is now empty -- awaiting a new usage.  

AL MEADOR -- A student I knew at Drexel.  Wonderfully smart in a whole variety of fields and a great but subtle sense of humor.  He was -- and hopefully sitll is -- a polymath.  I might qualify as a superficial polymath. 

BUYING DONUTS FOR OTHERS -- It may mean something that I'm abandoning getting a drum for myself in favor of getting donuts for others. 

SHABBY DONUT SHOP -- What's in here has been here for a long time.

CHAOS IN THE DONUT SHOP -- My various "parts."  Some making donuts, some ordering and eating donuts. 

YOUNG PRETTY WAITRESS -- See below.  

CHANGE WITHOUT AN ORDER -- Reward for things I haven't done yet?  Things that I did and "paid for" without recalling what/which?  OR I can't expect any help from my various "parts" to get donuts?  With help from Regina, the possible wordplay of "change."  As in moving from this to that.  And that is part -- or maybe most or all -- of what I would get from feeding donuts to those people.  And my waitperson walks away because it's now on me to consider and pilot that change. 

  

   

Bad Dream 226 -- Djembe or Donuts?

My dream starts with me in some kind of office setting.  There's not much detail here, which is okay because I'm on my way out.  Shortly into my dream, I realize that having a Djembe would be an excellent thing.  (Like the office setting, the reason for this is a bit vague.  I know I would play it myself, but there are other reasons involving other people.  No details available.)

So I leave the office and go downstairs to the street level and across a backstreet or alley -- taking a shortcut to a store where I think I can buy a Djembe.  My shortcut takes me into a building that is quite empty but looks like it was heavily used at some previous time.  Dusty, dirty, well-worn.  Crossing to the other door of this room -- to get out towards a more major road -- I come across Al Meador, who is not surprised to see me.  While I am astonished to see him.  

Al explains to me why it would be an excellent thing for me to purchase a dozen or so donuts and take them to a place we both seem to know populated with people we both know.  Clearly, this would garner favor with those folks, but I'm not clear as to what good that good will would do for me.  He then suggests a donut shop which is only a block or two away.  He assures me that it's an excellent donut shop.  He gives me directions, which I understand and might well know that donut shop, although I can't recall ever going inside.   

I leave the building in the direction that Al suggested and soon find myself in front of the donut shop.  It looks rather shabby, but clearly occupied.  

When I get inside, I see the place seems quite chaotic.  It's difficult to impossible to figure out who's an employee and who's a customer.  I walk over to a guy who's actually making donuts and try to place an order.  He's mildly irked I would ask him such a thing and redirects me to a counter.  I take a seat there, and the waitress -- a young and pretty girl -- places a handful of change (coins and bills) in front of me and announce that this is my change from my order.  I explain to her that it must be someone else's change since I haven't  placed an order yet.  She looks embarrassed unsure as to what to do.  She announces this must be my change since there's no one else whose change it might be.  So she leaves the change in front of me and walks away towards other customers.  

Bad Dream 225 -- Where's the Office?

In my dream, I am standing outside in some city-type environment -- not doing anything special.  I see a young man nearby who is asking directions from passers-by.  He reminds me of Pickles from my time at University Camp for Boys -- that is, a pleasant enough 40-year-old-man stuffed into a 14-yearr-old body.

I overhear some of what he's looking for, but none of the folks he's asking seem to know the place in question.  But I'm pretty sure I do know. So I walk over to him and point to a large office buidling on the other side of the street, somewhat set back from the road.  In fact, some of the building is hidden from our sight by another building of equivalent style and size of the building I'm pointing to.  

Since I don't have anything else to do and I've already given him these instructions, I decide to go with him to see if we can find the office/business that he's looking for.  We cross the street and enter the building I pointed out.  The building is clearly designed for a considerable number of independent businesses -- and it has a large "open atrium" design.  The structure and decort in this main lobby are quite impressive: Beautiful stone flooring and walls and brass fittings everywhere.  And everythig is as neat as a pin.

The lobby is quite busy, with suited business types moving quickly from place to place.  It feels like a beautifully appinted train station full of people on their separate missions.  I'm still pretty sure we're in the right place, and that the office my newfound friend is seeking is somewhere on an upper floor in this building.  

All of a sudden, I realize that I've forgotten the name of the business/office that my friend is looking for.  So I ask him, but he seems to have forgotten as well.  I think he may be overwhelmed by the size and commotion of the lobby.  He shrugs his shoulders.  He goes over to a wall-mounted directory -- I guess to refresh his mind as to where he wanted to go.  I feel that, if I concentrate, I can recall the name as well.  And I'm feeling a bit guilty in having brought the young man over here and not able to help him complete his task.  

I concentrate on recalling the name we're looking for and block out, as best I can, the noise and commotion around me.  I recall the "sound" of the name and a few of the letters.  And then the name pops into my mind.  I go over to my friend and announce the name:

"We're looking for Amnesty International!"  

I wake up.    

Bad Dream 224 -- The Slip Knot Doesn't Work

In my dream, I have just discovered a quick and easy way to tie a Slip Knot.  The normal way requires three or four motions but this way requires only two.  And, in either case, you didn't need access to either end of the rope to tie it.  

I tie it and untie it several times, just to confirm that the procedure does in fact produce a legitimate Slip Knot, and then prepare to show it to a friend.  In my mind, the knot produced will be useful in securig a rope to support a tent or other equivalent tasks.    

I tell that to my friend about this discovery and then try to repeat the tying procedure I had been practicing.  It doesn't work.  I try to recall the exact procedure I've discovered, but the images in my mind don't result in the knot I want.   So I tie the knot iin the normal way, and it works just fine.  I show the result to my friend and tell him about its use in holding up a tent.

My friend expresses doubt on this point -- although I don't recall whether he says anything or just frowns -- but in either case, he walks away.

After he's gone, I recreate the Slip Knot (but don't recall which way) and, in looking more closely at the path of the rope to make the knot, realize that it's totally useless forf securing a tent or any equivalent use.  

At the right time and in the right place, a Slip Knot can be quite useful -- moreso than any other know I know -- but in this case, it's useless.  

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.