Bad Dream 112 -- Morning of 1/22/20

This dream came to me several mornings ago, so it's a little short on details:

In my dream, I am in a teaching position -- not well defined.  And I'm standing in an open area -- also not well defined.  

I have two people standing near me, who seem to be students of mine, but that too is not well defined.  One of these two people is Ricky Coburn and the other is an Unidentifiable.

In any case, I am teaching something as a conduit from some other source.  The material is not mine but I seem to be pretty comfortable teaching what I've been told -- somehow -- to teach.  

The two students seem to be paying close attention to what I've been saying, and it is time to change the subject.  I tell them that the next thing I want them to do is to cut open a finger and slice it almost all the way through.  

The cut I'm imagining would be on the left index finger and take place on the first joint with the cut running parallel to the bone.  The objective is to cut through the skin and muscle without cutting through the skin on the other side.  This would show the skill of the person doing the cutting, as he/she knew exactly how deep to cut.  

My students didn't respond negatively to this suggestion.  It's just something else the "teacher" is recommending that they do.  

I guess that I was returning to conscious life around this time, because I began to doubt seriously the wisdom of doing this.  That, even if the incision were performed extremely well, the recovery time would be quite lengthy -- and if the incision were not well done, it could result in permanent damage to the finger.  I recall being surprised -- at this point in the dream -- that my two students didn't recoil quickly from the idea.  I wondered why...

(NOTE:  Ricky Coburn and his family lived quite close to us when I was growing up on Wilson Point.  [Interesting also that this dream took place not far in time to the dream about the young boy crushed by the weird elevator.  That dream also had a reference to Wilson Point.]  We were the same age and were usually in the same class through high school.  We were never friends.  He was pretty smart but not, I think, as smart as I was.  I celebrated the cerebral in life while he wanted to be an important part of our High School's social scene.  Ricky had an older brother [Rusty] who was the same age as my older brother [Richard].  I recall that their relationship was downright antagonistic.)

Bad Dream 111 -- Morning of 1/5/20

In my dream, I'm sitting in a car with my brother Richard.  We're at a stoplight or a stop sign or just pulled off onto the side of the road.  Can't tell which.  But the point is that the car is not moving and I don't think the engine is running.  I am on the left side of the car, which I guess means that I was driving.  We're just sitting here chilling...

I see a small motorcycle pull up beside us.  The design of the bike and its paint job is similar, but it's clearly a smaller displacement engine.  The driver is obviously having considerable difficulties handling the bike.  It comes wobbling to a stop.  The rider is a young man -- and he's clearly frustrated with his efforts to drive the bike smoothly and safely.  

The immediate concern here is that the crossroad at this intersection is quite busy with fairly high-speed traffic.  It's perfectly safe if you have your vehicle under control, which is clearly not the case for the young man.

He looks at the traffic crossing in front of us -- and recognizes the danger of trying to cross the road riding the bike.  He looks at us and says "Help me!"

Richard looks at me as if to say "Okay, you're up!"  

I find myself sitting on the bike looking over the controls.  Now, there is (I'm fairly sure) a standard arrangement of controls: right hand--throttle and front brake + left hand--clutch + left foot--gear shift + right foot--rear brake.  I start to manipulate these controls for familiarity's sake, and the young man tells me I'm doing it all wrong.  That the controls on this bike are located in different places.  He suggests he should just take the bike back from me, but I stare him down and make the appropriate changes in my thinking about which control is located where.  The young man settles down.

The scene shifts to a totally different place.  It feels like the porch to some building or other, but I'm still sitting on the motorcycle, which is pointed towards the open area in front of the porch.  Which is a grassy field.

There is an Unidentifiable sitting on a bike next to me, and the young man is somewhere nearby.  I hear myself saying "Want to see a wheelie?" -- which wouldn't be a good thing to do with the young man standing nearby.  Doing a wheelie is the worst thing I could do, as I want him to learn how to ride a motorcycle safely.  

But I disregard that concern and take off.  I'm not totally certain I know how to handle a wheelstand on this particular machine, but it turns out I have good control of the bike as it scoots along on its rear wheel.  I'm enjoying myself immensely and don't care at the moment for the bad lesson I'm teaching him.  

The dream ends with me riding along on the kid's bike.  On its rear wheel.  

Bad Dream 110 -- Morning of 1/1/20

In my dream, I am in a room of indiscernible size with several other people.  Unidentifiables but male, I'm pretty sure.  We have been working together on a project (no information available here) and it's coming along pretty well.   We seem to be breaking up from a meeting and going our separate ways.  

As people are leaving, a woman stops over to chat with me.  I am sitting down but she is standing.  As we talk, she moves around -- left and right, closer and a little farther away.  She is saying supportive things about the project and the work I've been doing on it.  It occurs to me that she is likely flirting with me.  

As she's talking, the subject gently changes from the project to me.  Given the social ineptitude I've carried with me since I was a child, I'm not really sure how to respond.  But I realize that she is a handsome woman with an attractive figure.  And I'm flattered that she would be paying attention to me.  If, in fact, that's what she's doing.  

As she brings the conversation to a close (as in "Well, I must be going"), she sweeps past me and drops a small piece of paper on the desk/table in front of me.  She may or may not give me an over-the-shoulder backward glance as she heads for the door.  Not sure about this.

The paper is torn from a larger sheet and is somewhat wrinkled.  It has her name on it and what I initially thought would be her phone number.  Now I'm definitely flattered.  And pleased.  

But rather than a phone number, it's a cryptic collection of numbers and/or letters (I forget which) that would require considerable time and concentration to decode.  

I wake up -- fully understanding that I've just had a one-on-one conversation with my Anima.  And it was fun.