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.  

 

Bad Dream 216 -- A Loan for Zink

 In my dream, I'm sitting with Zink -- a very dear friend -- and maybe one or two other people.  Zink is asking me for a loan, and I understand quickly and easily how hard it must be for him to do this.  He was a very proud and independent soul.  

I look into my wallet, where I've got a number of paper bills,  I know I will need or want some cash for some upcoming events, but feel that I can easily loan him a pair of $20 bills.  I take them out of my wallet and start to hand them to him.  He holds up his hands to indicate that I misunderstood something.  

He says: "Um, actually, I'm going to need roughly $1500."  I'm a bit taken aback, but know I can adjust my resources to loan him that, but it will take a bit of time to secure the cash.  

He is then explaining something about the need for the money -- something about a BMW and a financial arrangement with my younger brother, David.  (For the record, I'm pretty sure that Zink and David had never met in life -- and both of them are now deceased.)  I don't understand what Zink is explaining to me, but am not surprised.  When Zink was not being straightforward, he could get purposely obscure.  

A phone rings.  It's a 20th-century-type land line.  I answer it.  It's a woman who wants to talk to me about this very topic of an outstanding bill and how we hope to pay it.

There are now 6 or 8 other people in the room, and most of them are talking.  Much too loudly to allow me to hear what this lady is saying.  I ask them to be quiet, and they tone it down a bit, but continue to chat.  I move to an adjoining room where it seems to be considerably less noisy.  But then someone in that area begins to vacuum the floor.  

Fortunately, the phone is on a very long line, so that I can move to yet another area, where it is, thankfully, quite quiet.  I continue my conversation with the lady on the line.  

She starts to explain the situation in more or less the same words that Zink had been using and specifically mentions the BMW -- so I'm sure now that we're talking about the same subject.  But the terms she's using are much like the obscurity that Zink was creating.  

I ask her to back up and explain the entire situation from the very beginning, rather that picking up the issue mid-stream.  I assume she's started the conversation the way she had because she assumed that I knew what this was all about.  

She's quiet for a bit, and then asks me essentially the same question: Why don't I explain to her what I understand about the situation?  I think she's talking to someone else in her office, getting instructions as to what to say next.  And then I realize that it's likely she is a representative of a collections agency rather than having anything directly to do with the reason that Zink and/or David got into a financial arrangement with.. whomever they did.

I wake up.

Bad Drean 215 -- Shouold be wearing shoes

 In my dream, I am "assisting" someone on supervising a project.

We are a block or two north of the main business district of West Chester at some heavy-industry site which, of course, never existed in the waking world.   

The person I'm supposed to be assisting is a man in his mid-40's or so, dressed in business attire.  I, on the other hand, amd waring a tee shirt and shorts.  And no shoes.  Barefoot.  I like this guy and admire his work.  And am happy to support him in any way I can.  

He is supervising the mating of two massive pieces of metal -- both round -- with bolt holes to allow the two plates to be bolted together.  I can see the two pieces of metal -- both upright -- facing each other at a distance of several feet.  The ground is marked with lots of loose pieces of metal, dirt clods, etc.  It's not place to be walking around barefoot.

My guy seems to know exactly what he's doing, and really doesn't need me to do anything.  It feels as if I'm there strictly pro forma.  Maybe I could go get coffee for him if he asked...

Since I seemed to be unneeded here, I went back to the main street in West Chester to get a pair of shoes.  My dream took me through several different stores which might have had shoes... but didn't.  Each store took a considerable amount of dreamtime and each store was quite different.  

I returned to the project site and was informed that the mating of the two pieces of metal had to be postponed, as folks couldn't put all the bolts in to finish the job (whether is was a lack of bolts or holes or supporting brackets to line the pieces up wasn't clear to me.)  

Leaving the site (not knowing whether I was properly shod or continues to be barefoot was not clear), I came across Charlie Pelot, a fellow I worked with many years ago.  I think, but am not sure, that he wanted me to play baseball with him and one other person, whom I saw only at a distance.  

I told him thanks for the offer, but I really wasn't interested in doing that.  As I recall, I decided not to point out to him that we only had three people, and you couldn't do much in the way of playing baseball with a crowd that small.

He was clearly disappointed and tried to change my mind.  And as he talked on and on about how important baseball (if that was, in fact the sport he was suggesting) was to our national identity and pride.  And the more he talked, the louder and more angry he became.  Fairly quickly, he was simply yelling at me.  

I woke up.

Bad Dream 214 -- Who is that Person?

In my dream, I am at work -- and am probably several decades younger than I am now.  

I'm in a busy office setting, with a dozen or so other workers.  Everyone seems to be moving around from desk to desk and coming and going out the doors.  I recognize some of the people who are circulating around as folks I used to work with, and feel good about being near them.  (But I'm not looking to interrupt whatever it is they're doing to chat with them.)

My current job is to write some kind of specification or Request for Quote or somesuch.  Before I get to writing the details of the project at hand, I need to write an introductory page to assist the reader in understanding the details that follow.  

I know that the Company has a fairly standard format for this document, and it's expected that all our projects start with the intro page fashioned that way.  So I'm looking for a previously prepared document so I can use that as a guide in my own intro sheet.  

As I'm looking around and considering asking someone if they have a copy of this format I could borrow, I notice that there's someone who looks very much like a Buddhist monk standing in the middle of the work area.  He's on the smallish side, has a face the color and worn look you might expect from an elderly Buddhist monk.  He's bald and he's wearing this wonderful robe you might also expect of a highly respected monk in Buddhist circles.  

People walk around this person, but no one speaks to him.  No one seems surprised he's there, despite all the differences in appearance between him and everyone else in the office.  

Somehow or other, I find myself in a discussion with this fellow.  And he's explaining the way my document should be fashioned.  HIs way is based on the ethereal concepts one might expect to hear from a Buddhist monk -- and it has little or nothing to do with my project.  Were I to follow his instructions, I would have a lot of explaining to do to my superiors.  

Since this fellow seems to be accepted in the office and since he speaks with such authority, I find myself caught between creating the document this guy suggests or following the regular protocol -- as soon as I can find a copy of the regular protocol.  The advantage of doing it this guy's way is that I at least know what to write -- regardless of how disconnected it may seem to the project.  

I continue looking around for help in getting a copy of the standard format, and am considering leafing through the papers sitting on peoples' desks for one.  

As I walk around looking for what to do next, I see the monk, who has set aside his wonderful robe and is getting into a head-to-toe zip-up denim overalls typically worn by someone who expects to get very dirty.  

I wake up.  

 

Bad Dream 213 -- Getting Home on a Bicycle, Maybe

 In my dream, I am living in Philadelphia and trying to get home.  I have a bicycle that has just been tuned up for my transportation.  (In my waking life, I do have a bicycle that's just been tuned up.)

It's nighttime and warm.  Traffic seems to be its normally busy self.  I'm north of Center City and my home is east of Broad Street down around Pine Street or thereabouts.  A neighborhood that I did, in fact, once live. 

I'm pedaling along a street, making progress and having the general feeling that I'm headed in the right direction.  I notice that, when I shift gears on my bike there's a considerable amount of chatter and some vibration as the chain moves in or out from gear to gear.  I'm surprised, as the chain moved quietly when shifting -- before I had the bike "tuned up."  I make a mental note to check with the bike shop the next day to make sure I'm doing things right or that the bike needs another trip to the shop for further adjustment.  

From time to time, as I ride from one street to the next, turning occasionally, I make a turn onto a road that I recognize and that gives me confidence that I'm moving in the right direction.  At other times, I'm riding through a very pleasant neighborhood that I don't recognize at all.  

So much of the dream, I'm riding through neighborhoods I recognize -- then don't -- then recognize again.  For whatever reason, I recall transversing Vine Street as a landmark and assuring me that I was moving in the right direction.  Doing this and trying to cope with a bicycle that was losing parts and becoming more difficult to operate as time went on.

At some point (south of Vine Street), I met up with a woman whom I guess was Deb simply because we knew each other deeply.  And she and I started moving towards home again.  I hopped on my bike, only to discover that the front tire was completely flat, making the bike -- finally -- completely unrideable.  

I wake up.

Reading over this to proof it, I recall a series of dreams I had years ago.  I would visit a bicycle shop -- I think in downtown Philadelphia -- and talk with the manager/owner about getting the perfect bicycle for me.  The shop was strictly repair business like -- no showroom, no line of new bicycles to choose from.  We decided on the right bike for me, which the manager/owner didn't have available but could order.  And after several visits, I purchased and rode away from the shop on my new bike. 
And my memory tells me that the bike was yellow.  Just like my real-life bike.  

Bad Dream 212 -- What are they talking about?

 I've always been good at math.  (Well, except for Calculus, but there are reasons for that...)  

But in my dream, I am totally at a loss about this new kind of math: 

In my dream, I'm in a class remindful of the Special Program I endured back at college.  The other students in the class are people that I kind of know from other classes, but not any good friends.  I'm a younger version of myself -- maybe early 20's or so.  The teacher/professor is a woman not much older and very sure of herself.  (If it means anything, I should note that the prof is rather good-looking and wearing a dress that is more dressy than one would expect for classroom attire.)

She is introducing a new kind of mathematics but doesn't bother explaining what it's for.  That is, what kind of problems this math will help solve.  I'm pretty sure she gives it a name, but I don't recall what it is.

The session proceeds in a manner reminiscent, now that I think of it, of classes back at Drexel: here's the procedure for doing something that is in the curriculum for you to learn with no explanation of why or context relating to the real world.  Follow the procedure and you will get a decent grade and move on to the next class.

She gives a list of what seems to be perfectly random words and semi-words.  And next to each of them, there's a short "explanation" of that particular entry on the list.  If you come across this element in your work, here's information about that element.  None of these elements seems related to any of the other elements and I highly doubt I would ever come across any of them in any manner.  

I think she hands out a list of these random elements and then gives a few "examples" of how to use the list: "If you come across this element, here's what to do about it."  Or words to that effect.  

I think I asked her for a real-world example of how this might be useful or even implemented.  She gives me this look of "Geez, why do they put such morons in my class?" and then ignores me.  

There is now a class exercise to show that the student has successfully understood what to do with the elements on the list she's handed out.  And my classmates are busy working away at the assignment.  Sometimes they're working alone and sometimes in a small group.  It's obvious to me that everyone else in class is keyed in to what they're supposed to do.  But I'm at a complete loss.  

I ask one or two of my classmates for assistance, but he/she/they are so caught up in completing the assignment that they don't have time to help me.       

There is a fellow off to the side who is, I guess, an assistant to the professor.  He's a bit older than the students and he has a kindly face.  I go over to him and ask him to give me one or two examples of how to use this list to solve an everyday problem.  He smiles and says something along the lines of "Well, suppose you wanted to count bees.  This is tricky as they move around a lot."  (This may be an example I added after waking up, but the idea is captured in what he's saying.)  He thinks about what he just said, and then says "No, that 's not really a very good example of how to use the list.  Let me think of another example..."

While he's thinking, I'm catching bits of conversation from other students and my own recollections of what we're supposed to be learning.  I scribble them down on a piece of paper with a very "broad-nibbed" pencil everything I'm hearing of remembering without any connection between one recollection and the next.  I think I could decipher what I'm writing down later on, but I doubt if anyone else could make any sense out of it.  

While he's trying to come up with another example, the teacher says that the class is ending and that we should turn in our assignment.  I'm now bordering on panic.  I now find that the one or two pieces of paper are the only thing(s) I could turn in -- but by doing so, I would lose any chance of figuring out what the assignment was all about.  I also find that I'm holding on to maybe 10 or 15 pages of notebook paper -- including the one or two of which have the notes that I've scribbled out plus other pages of similar size and writing.  So, do I turn in those pieces of paper (assuming I figure out which pieces of paper have my notes) just to show that I'm trying my best to keep up with the class OR do I keep my notes and try to figure out stuff after class is ended -- getting a Zero for today's assignment.

The other students are handing in their work as they leave and chatting comfortably about the experience they've just had.  To them, it seems to be just another class about stuff they are supposed to learn.  To me, it feels like a "make or break" moment in my education.  If I fall behind with this class, it's quite possible I could never catch up.  

I start walking towards the instructor, who's busy collecting papers from my fellow students.  I hope to explain my situation to her and throw myself on her mercy.  She looks over in my direction and gets a look of absolute distaste on her face.  Naw, I don't think I'm going to get any mercy from her...

I was relieved to wake up.  

Bad Dream 211 Key to the Truck

(my dream was considerably longer and more involved, but here's what I recall...)

In my dream, I am sitting in the cab of a tractor/trailer -- without a trailer attached to the back.  I've driven this rig on a number of occasions, but am not the only driver.  I feel very comfortable sitting here, knowing I'm about to start the engine and drive some place.  My destination is not clear to me as the dreamer, but the me in the dream knows where I'm going.  

Getting underway means starting the engine, so I'm looking over my keychain for the right key to insert in the ignition switch.  I go through all my keys on the chain -- there's something between 12 and 20 keys to sort through -- without any success.  I look at a key that might fit and move my hand and the key towards the switch.  To my surprise, there's already a key in the switch!

I'm concerned that this is a bad practice -- that anyone could have climbed into the cab and started the engine.  I make a mental note to talk to the people that might have left a key in the switch.  I then realize that the driver's side mirror is also very badly aligned -- almost pushed up against the door -- and grouse about the shoddy care that someone is taking with the truck.  

At the same time, I'm grateful to have the key available to me so I can start the truck and move towards my destination.  And there's some connection to a family get-together involved in my destination, and I feel good about getting to see everyone.