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.

Bad Dream 210 Getting the New Boat Wet

 In my dream, I am getting a new sailboat ready for its initial trip.

This is not just any sailboat, it's an Optimist Pram -- the same design as the one I first learned how to sail when I was 10 years old.  Or thereabouts.  

At the start of the dream, I am standing next to the boat on dry shore.  It is likely on a boat trailer or other support, because it's high off the ground, making the onshore rigging easier.  I go to put the rudder in place, but halfway through the process, I realize the boat needs to be in the water for this to be done successfully.  So I putter around getting other things ready to go.  

There are other people around me and the boat, helping to make sure everything is ready.  I don't recognize faces or hear voices, but I'm pretty sure my older brother is part of this effort.  Quite possibly just standing nearby.

The scene changes, and the boat and I are in the shallow water.  I can now easily affix the rudder and tiller properly in their place at the back of the boat.  My dream does not include anything about setting the sail on the mast and spars or getting into the boat.  But I find myself properly on board with the sail filling nicely.  The boat begins to pick up speed via the power of the wind on the sail.  

As the boat gets underway, I realize that the water where we're sailing is the arm of the Chesapeake Bay where I learned how to sail and spent as much time as I could either swimming or sailing.  

As the boat moves forward, I see my older brother's head bobbing in the water slightly off to the side as I go sailing past him.  He looks neither pleased or worried.  It would seem he wanted to be there just in case we hadn't got the boat properly rigged or there was some other problem.  I look at him and he looks at me.  Both pretty expressionless.  

I look forward as the boat and I head out to open water.  

Bad Dream 209 A Trip Out West

In my dream, I am standing next to a rather fancy sedan car with a number of people in it.  I know most if not all of these people, but not intimately well.  Maybe we're at school together or work together at the same place.  The dream isn't clear on that.

The people and the car are headed out west to see the sights.  There's nothing specific in the dream about which sights, but it's likely is the landscape (plains, forests, mountains, etc.) rather than cities.  

At least on person in the car asks if I would like to come along on the trip.  The car is rather full, and the ask was rather luke warm.  If I didn't really want to go, I would have turned down the offer -- as I didn't want to cram myself and my stuff into an already crowded car.  (The car has bench seats, with three people to sit in the front and four in the back.)  But I really do want to go, so I say "Yes!  Thanks!!"  I understand that the rest of the folks in the car are not all that pleased, as the car seemed pretty full to start with, but no one was going to counter the invitation.  So I'm going.  And sure enough, the car is now absolutely crammed.

After we drive a while, we stop at a building out on the Plains somewhere.  I think it's part restaurant and part gas station and maybe part motel -- these three in descending order.  But we're certainly out of the car and into the building.  While most of the folks are in an adjoining room, I walk around a bit in the rest of the building.  What I notice is that the pitched ceiling is at least 15 feet high, rising to maybe 20 or 25 feet.  My first and only thought about this is that it would be a wonderful place to juggle.  I want to tell the lady who seems to be the proprietor of the establishment, but I think I don't get the chance.

We are now back at the sedan and getting ready for the next leg of our trip, and I look inside and see the guys with their luggage on their laps and grimacing at the crowded condition.  I walk to the back of the car and open the trunk by simply pressing on the circular keylock.  (I'm a bit surprised but pleased that the trunk opened that easily.)  And behold, there's absolutely nothing in the trunk -- and a huge amount of space.  

I bring this news to the guys who are already in the car, and soon most if not all the luggage is out of the cabin of the car and safely stowed in the trunk.  When I go to get in the car with everyone else, I see that the only open place is in the front seat next to the window.  Hey!  I'm riding shotgun!  It would seem possible -- and maybe likely -- that folks arranged this so that I get this highly prized seat as a "Thank you" for finding the trunk.  

Bad Dream 208 Not Going to Make it for Golf

In my dream, I am looking to schedule a "Tee Time" to play golf at a local course -- something like 5 or 10 miles away.  I have played for some considerable time, but haven't played recently.  

I phone the local course and ask for a tee time later that day.  I am informed that they wouldn't schedule a single player that day, but only groups of 3 or 4.  I explain how important it is for me to play today (I don't remember the reason...) but please, please let me play today!  The person I'm speaking to finally relents, but I have to be at the course in a very short time.  (I also don't recall exactly how quickly I need to be there, but it's less than an hour or so...)

I my dream, my only transportation is a child's tricycle.  I wasn't expecting this development, but I have to go with what's available.  It's too small for me to sit on and pedal, so I must stand at  the back platform and push my way forward by push-kicking the tricycle.  (I realize after I wake up that I don't have any golf clubs with me.  I might have placed them in a car or truck or bus, but none of them is available.  So I guess I expected to borrow clubs from the course.)

I head out on the road -- traffic is never a problem in my dream -- and come across a small side road.  I'm pretty sure that this smaller road is a "short cut" to get to the course, so I turn onto the smaller road and head off.

Shortly after this decision, I realize I don't recognize anything around me, so I must have been mistaken.  But I'm far enough along this smaller road that it makes no sense to double back, so I keep on going.  

On two separate occasions in the dream, I stop at old-fashioned gas stations and ask for directions.  On both occasions, the attendants are really trying to help, but no one on either occasion knows which golf course I might be aiming at.  There seem to be several of them not far away.

On one occasion, the attendant gets out a map with hopes that I could orient myself with the information on the map.  The map shows three or four golf courses -- all of which are not that far away, but going towards any one of them takes me farther away from any of the others.  And I have forgotten the name of the course.

I realize that I will never get to any of those courses in the time that was allotted during my phone call.  There is a phone available in the gas station that I am invited to use to get in touch with the course and ask for more time; but since I can't remember the name of the course I've chosen, I can't make that call.

Bad Dream 207 - A Special Flute

In my dream, I am holding a special flute.  It's made from wood, much like my collection of Bansuris, but there the comparison stops.

It's a fairly large diameter flute, but not excessively so.  And it's roughly 24 inches long.  It seems to have been carved out of a larger piece, unlike the bamboo of the Bansuris.  

And it has a great many holes up and down the length of the flute.  Obviously, a single person hasn't got enough fingers to cover all the holes, but it's clearly meant to be played by a single person.  One of the holes near the middle is shaped like a whistle that a policeman or football referee would have.  And on further examination, I can see that it can be played from either end.

I'm with someone, who is most likely my sister, and she and I are both rather taken with the flute and trying to figure out how to play it. 

Clearly, whomever made this flute had something very special in mind, and I wish that person were nearby to show me how it is played.  

It is a rather joyful time, being with my sister and having such a wonderful puzzle -- a musical puzzle -- to play with.

(It should be noted that I haven't touched any of my flutes in weeks, and every time I walk past them, I feel a moment of frustration and commitment to get back to playing soon.  But I haven't made it that far for far too long.)

Bad Dream 206 - What's With Dad and Richard?

My Dad was one of the most even-tempered persons I ever knew.  But in my dream, he is clearly agitated and mad at me.  And I can't imagine why.

I don't recall anything in my dream concerning the place where the dream takes place.  Probably indoors somewhere, but no idea where. 

I ask my Dad what the problem is -- and clearly he has difficulty expressing exactly what the problem is.  He kind of starts saying something, then stopping. He does this several times.  Then he finally blurts out "Your brother has something to say to you."  He then sweeps his right hand horizontally across his body and says "Swoosh."  He then looks at me as if that gesture and word combination should explain exactly what the problem is.  

Richard then says something that I don't recall, but he then makes the same gesture and says "Swoosh" just like Dad had done.  Now, both of them look at me expectantly -- as if what their problem is should now be perfectly clear.  And, of course, I have no idea what's going on.

Now, since Richard's efforts to explain have failed, Dad takes over again.  His attitude is now, "Well, if I have to explain this in specific words, here it comes."  He accuses me of splashing water on the Meeting House's kitchen floor and not cleaning up.  (Please note, my Dad wasn't a Quaker and had only visited the West Chester Meeting House once.)

I feel some relief now that the subject has been explained to me.  But I tell both Dad and Richard that I hadn't been in the Meeting House -- much less the kitchen therein -- in well over a year.  Dad hears this and gets an "Oh, yeah.  Like you expect us to believe that?"  And I assure him -- and Richard -- that it's true: I haven't set foot in the Meeting House for a very long time.

Dad seemingly still doesn't believe me, but he moves on to another point of attack (to prove that he's justified in being angry at me).  And that attack is that he is a strong supporter of Donald Trump.  And he and Richard start cheering.