Bad Dream 178 -- A Hole in the Sand

My dream takes place at the Stansbury Beach Club.  This was a downhome, members-only club with a sand beach, a stand of lovely old trees, some open grassy areas, and a clubhouse in the suburban Baltimore area.  During the summers of my early youth, this was the only place to be.  (But the "me" of the dream is an adult.)

As my dream starts, I am standing on the beach -- probably barefoot, since that would have been normal and also because I notice that the sand under my feet feels almost powdery.  I assume that the grains of the sand are considerably smaller than I'm used to when walking this beach.  

Walking on a little farther, I notice that the quality of the sand has changed, and is now more grainy.  I crouch down to look at the sand more carefully and take a handful to see how that feels.  It confirms what I was feeling.

With a little effort, I find the dividing line between the fine-grained sand and the coarse-grained sand.  I now drop thoroughly in the investigative mode.  

Looking a little farther, I see that the sand now includes pebbles.  The pebbles all look considerably different -- one from one another.  I consider the possibility that there may be fossils in this gravel, so I abandon the question of the sand granularity and start searching for microfossils.  

As I move across the sand in my search, I find a depression in the sand/gravel mixture, and consider this to be a good place to search for fossils.  As I dig into the depression a bit, the surface gives way and falls into a large hole.  The hole is fairly horizontal, so I can see into it and get fairly close to look farther in without the danger of the hole collapsing further and taking me with it -- more like a wall than a floor.

Looking into the hole, I am surprised and shocked to see what looks very much like a tunnel.  One large enough to allow passage of a car easily.  The far wall of the tunnel is perfectly vertical and looks like a constructed wall rather than an extension of the sand.  And the bottom of the tunnel looks like it's paved with asphalt or concrete.  

And there are electric lights in the tunnel as well.  Bare bulbs shining brightly.  And the condition of the floor suggests that the tunnel has been used recently and may be used fairly frequently by motorized vehicles.  

What goes through my mind is that this is part of the Country's defense system left over from World War II -- when German submarines were known to be prowling the country's waterways.  

I decide that I need to tell the Beach Club Management about my findings.  I tell one or two front-line employees who decide to get Upper Management involved immediately.  I recognize the Head Manager from some other part of my life, but I can't recall who or where or when.

The front-line employees are pretty concerned about what I tell them.  But the Manager has a "Well. let's not get carried away with this" attitude.  He seems to want me to believe this is all news to him, but I have the feeling he's known about this tunnel -- where it comes from and where it goes -- all along.  At this point, he just wants to keep the news about the finding of the tunnel suppressed to the smallest possible number of people.  

Maybe he's doing the right thing, but I can't shake the feeling that he's trying to cover up something...

Bad Dream 177 -- Getting Back to Brian

In my dream, I am standing outside on a farm or in a park with Brian Fahey and some of the kids from West Chester Friends School.  (I'm not sure that's where the kids are from, but coming from WCFS makes sense and would be perfectly reasonable.)  Things are going well.

Soon, I find that I'm on a train with Brian on our way to Edmonton, Alberta to do some business issue or issues about the kids and park or farm where we've been.  If there are kids along on this trip, I don't hear or see them.  Edmonton is not that far away from the farm or park -- maybe an hour's trip by train.  

Things move forward quickly.  We're off the train, got the business issues resolved, and are back on the train.  The next stop for the train will be where we get off and return to the farm or park.  

The train slows down considerably to make the stop so we can get off.  And Brian sure enough does disembark.  But the train accelerates away from the stop before I can get off.  I look out the window and see Brian looking anxious about what's happening -- but there's really nothing he can do.  

I don't feel any panic or alarm, only an inconvenience to myself and -- quite probably -- to Brian as well.  I will simply get off the train at the next stop and wait for the next train going back to the stop where we initially started our trip,  The stop where Brian got off.  

Much to my surprise, the next stop is Edmonton!  It would seem that the train did a 180-degree turn on the tracks without my noticing.  But I still feel there won't be a problem in getting back to Brian.  I get off the train in Edmonton.

There's nothing in the dream about getting out of the train, off the platform, and into the station, but I find myself next walking around the streets of Edmonton.  I understand somehow that the idea of getting a return train is not going to work.  So I begin to search for a taxi to take me back.  

I ask numerous people where would be the easiest place to find a taxi, and people tell me to do things and/or go places that turn out to be impossible for me to do or visit.  Someone tells me he's sure that a taxi can be found at The Red Box building.  I somehow understand that building to be a cinderblock structure -- quite possibly a beer distributor.  His confidence makes me feel that I'm on the way to resolving this whole issue, but when I follow his instructions to find The Red Box, I am completely unsuccessful.  No buildings even close to his description.  When I ask other folks about The Red Box they either don't know or give me yet additional directions that don't work.  

I try to use my cell phone to get in touch with Brian to let him know where I am and my current status.  Rather than asking for the telephone number for a Brian Fahey (of which there may be several or many) I ask for the number for WCFS.  I try this several times, but the operators I'm working with either don't understand what I'm saying or give me some kind of runaround that is of no help whatsoever.  When I try for the 4th or 5th time, I am informed that I have used up all my opportunities to get information from these operators.  

At this point, I realize that, in addition to not knowing exactly where I am in Edmonton, I don't know the name of the place where Brian and the kids are staying and I don't even know the name of the train stop where Brian disembarked.  

My phone is getting low on its charge.  I'm lost in a city I know nothing about.  I don't know how I'm going to find anyone who can help me and I don't know how anyone who wanted to find me could do so.  

I am relieved to wake up.

Bad Dream 176 -- Allison Has Issues

In my dream, I am in a room with a number of other people.  Initially, I don't recognize anyone, but then I see Allison some distance away.  She is smiling -- almost grinning -- as she walks hand-in-hand with a guy towards a door to an adjoining room.  They enter the room and I "know" that they've locked the door.  

I also "know" that they've left these other people in order to have sex.  My notes on this dream suggest that she invited him to have sex rather than the other way around.

Now, I'm very fond of Allison and I don't want to see her get hurt -- knowing that's happened often enough in her life.  And she certainly seemed happy to take this fellow into the other room for a tryst.  So it's likely that she will be fine.  

But "likely" isn't good enough.  I plan to stay around -- even though I don't know anyone else in the group -- until I see Allison again and feel that she's okay.  There's a slight chance she might need my support.  And that slight chance is enough to keep me nearby.

I walk outside onto a small porch surrounded by a waist-high railing.  I don't want to be conspicuous in the group and have no interest in chatting with any of them.  But I'm going to stay close for the reason stated.  

The ground on the other side of the fence is quite far below me. So obviously the railing is there to keep people from falling over the edge.  And this suggests that either we're on some kind of tower or edge of a cliff.  I don't know which and can't figure out how to find out.  

I find myself back in the room with the crowd of people and see Allison returning to the group in the company of a guy who may or may not be the one with whom she left the room.  They are both naked.  He sits on a chair or sofa and Allison sits on his lap in such a way that they can have sex or continue to have sex.  There's not much response from the people around them.

Something happens such that the guy isn't there anymore, and Allison is there -- naked and in a state of sexual ardor.  She invites a nearby man to continue the coitus, but he declines.  She asks another guy with the same response.  After several more asks with the same result, she is getting somewhat frantic and desperate.  

She asks every male in the room except me and one other guy.  I don't know whether she even sees me or know that I'm there.  The other guy saunters over to me and says something like  -- "Well, you and I are the only guys she's not going to invite."

Bad Dream 175 -- Somebody Stole my Bed

In my dream, I am in a rather confusing building.  In part, it's where I live and in part it's where I work.  

In an early stage of my dream, I open the door to the room in which I have been living.  I expect to see my bed -- a nice Danish modern Queen-size kind of bed -- and my belongings.  Books, clothes, and so forth.  In fact what I see is a completely empty room.  There is carpeting on the floor, but absolutely nothing else.  

There is activity happening around the building -- workmen moving things here and there -- and I assume that my stuff has simply been moved to another room.  So I spend considerable time looking for that new room.  I think I may ask some of the folks doing the moving about my bed and belongings, but get no helpful response.  As this process goes on, I feel less and less likely to ever find my stuff again.  

Partway through this process, a come across someone I know.  We're both Field Service Engineers and have worked on the same project from time to time.  He has been moved out of his room in this building into a hotel room, with the Company (whatever that is...) paying the bill.  He's annoyed that, while the Company is paying for the room he has to pay "Service Charges" for that room out of his own pocket.  His plan is to take this issue up with Management immediately before these charges accumulate too high.  He walks away.

I walk into an open area in the building.  It might be used as a lobby in other times, but at the moment it is rather full of shipping boxes -- mainly cardboard and mostly rather large.  Someone who's working in this area sees me and tells me he has a box that has been sent to me.  It's a bit bigger than a briefcase but roughly the same shape.  

I open it and find that it's full of metal pieces something like Erector Set pieces but mainly brass rather than aluminum.  It's been sent to me by someone who works for one of our client companies-- someone with whom I got along quite well.  And somehow I know that the pieces can be assembled into a model Power Plant similar to the one he and I worked on some time ago.  It should be fun to assemble, but it will take time -- and I have a much more pressing assignment!

But I'm quite pleased at the present and tell myself to get back in touch with the sender as soon as I find my bed and belongings.

By this time, it's clear to me that any additional searching on my part would be useless.  My stuff may still be here somewhere, but it would seem to be a place that I don't have access to.  

My immediate superior is not around, so I can't ask for his assistance.  I know it's no good looking for him.  But I see his boss (that is, my boss's boss) and explain my situation to him.  He's sympathetic and I think he would really like to help, but he's so tied up with the moving stuff in and out of the building, he simply doesn't have time to help out.  

As these last events take place, my concern switches from "Where is my bed and stuff?" to "Where am I going to sleep tonight?"  It's getting on towards evening...

Bad Dream 174 -- My BIcycle in Pieces

In my dream, I'm trying to reassemble my bicycle.  I have no information as to why it is in pieces, but I think I can reassemble it.  I'm not terribly sure my efforts will be successful, but I'm trying to do this out of curiousity as much as regaining use of my bicycle.  I know that there are several shops I could visit with the pieces and they would do the job quickly and inexpensively, but that's not the way I want this to happen.

I'm in a room with several other extended family members.  I know that Sarah is here and also my (now deceased brother) David.  And I know there are others, but can't identify them.

I also know that David is very good at this sort of assembly/disassembly, but I really don't want any assistance from him.  I'm not sure why...

The bike isn't completely disassembled and it seems to me that I will have to take several pieces off the existing partial assembly before proceeding with the overall reassembly -- and it's this disassembly that has me concerned more than the reassembly.  

The room is crowded and not well lit.  I need to put the bike pieces in a particular array and arrangement to begin reassembly, but as mentioned above there's some disassembly to take place first.  This will involve the removal of small black screws holding several pieces together.  And if these screws get dropped or otherwise get away from me, they will probably never be found again and will be impossible to purchase in my local hardware store.  And that will likely preclude my reassembly project and I will just have to buy a new bicycle.  

I find that I can either position these pieces in a good light, but that would interfere with the doings of some of the people.  Or I can lay out the pieces in a nice neat way, but the light will be too dark to do any work.  There don't seem to be any places that meet both criteria.

As I'm looking at the pieces and considering where to start, David comes over and starts fingering the pieces I have in front of me.  I bark at him to chase him away.  He leaves. 

Some of the parts are held together with"Acorn Nuts" -- but they are really flimsy, being thin sheet metal bent in to the proper shape.  (Different from the small black screws mentioned above.)  Throughout much of the dream, I am complaining to myself about these fasteners.  It's clear they won't hold up under any of the pressure and wears and tear of riding a bicycle.  Grumble grumble.

David comes back, and once again starts to examine the pieces of the bike in front of me.  And I chase him away again.  I understand that having him help me -- or do the job himself -- will vastly increase the likelihood of the project being successful.  And I also understand that I am being unreasonable.  But that's how it is.  

Bad Dream 173 -- Stealing Stuff From My Car

 My dream begins with me in a commercial building setting.  It's the office portion of a research and development company.  I don't work here, but I know the people and their products.  I like them and they like me.  The lady I'm talking with is disappointed in the results of a test on their latest invention.  When they hooked it up to a more conventional device (a projector?) it didn't work.  

I suggested that the problem might be with the projector (if that's what it was...) rather than their invention and that they should try a different device for the test.  She hadn't thought about that and was enthusiastic to give it a try.

So I left the building feeling pretty good about myself.  

I start walking towards my car.  It's getting late in the day and it had been raining.  The parking lot -- which is half empty -- is wet and the sky is still cloudy.  I'm carrying a rather large box that I plan to put in my car and then go do something else before leaving.  My car is more than halfway across this large parking lot, but I can see it as I walk towards it.

I place the box on the back seat of my car and close the door.  I notice that there are two young men -- late teens or early 20's -- walking around my car.  Literally circling around it and looking in towards me and the car.  They are wearing bandanas across the bottom half of their faces. I consider this to be weird, but young men do weird things, so it doesn't bother me.

But just in case, I turn towards them and ask them a question ("What are you doing?" "Will you please go elsewhere?") and they scamper off to the woods nearby.

Now that they've gone, I can walk back to some building (I think it's another one -- not the one I just left).  As I walk a couple hundred feet away, I turn to see the two young men have returned to my car and are no longer wearing bandana masks.  One of them opens the back lid of my SUV and start to examine the contents.  I call out to them and tell them to go away.  They scamper away again.  I start walking towards my next destination, but am now concerned about what the young men have in mind.  

I walk a little farther and turn once more to look at the car.  They have the doors open and are removing the packages that I've stored in the back seat and elsewhere in the car.  I call out to them, but this time they look up at me, then go back to looting my car.  

I reach into my pockets to grab the remote control.  I can't lock the doors, since they're already open, but I can at least set off the alarm.  And I find that I don't have my keys.  They must still be in the car!!  Now I'm concerned that I may lose all those packages as they steal my car as well.

I start running back towards the car, but I'm not very good at running anymore.  I find that I have a bottle in my hand and consider throwing it at the burglars.  I realize it won't do any good and that my chances of actually hitting one of them and not my car are very small.  But in frustration, I hurl the bottle anyway.  

Bad Dream 172 -- Where's My Truck?

In my dream, I'm standing in a construction site.  It's a single level (so far) and the ground is essentially sandy soil with little or no vegetation.  What has been built is a series of concrete walls laid out to form rooms.  So there are openings between the vertical walls which will become hallways and rooms of various sizes.  It's quite a complex layout, and as I will discover later, the layout seems to change from time to time.  Some new walls appear and others disappear.  So it's tricky-to-impossible to find your way through what's been laid out so far.  

It's somewhere near mid-day, and there are construction workers moving about.  I can see them but at no time in the dream to I interact with them.   

I came to the site escorting two people (a man and a woman) who had important business -- either at the site or nearby.  I was to function, not only as a driver, but also as a resource for the two other people in case they needed some additional information on whatever their business was about.  They knew the higher level information, but I knew more of the "nuts and bolts" of the project.  (The dream wasn't clear about what the visit was all about, but I had the feeling that my two colleagues were discussing matters pertaining to the construction project.)

After wandering about through the construction site for a while, I somehow understand that my assistance for additional information would not be required.  So my job was simply to get back to our vehicle -- which was a dark-colored pickup truck -- and prepare to drive my associates back to where we started.  

I don't recall exactly where I left the truck, so I start wandering through the site with a purpose: Find my truck!  

As I move about the site, it becomes more and more obvious that the walls that are going up are also changing.  New walls appearing, others disappearing, some seeming to move or develop holes for windows or doors.  

Twice, as I roam about getting more and more concerned, I pass the place where this new construction meets the existing structure.  In that structure, there are large windows that enable me to look inside.  I see dozens of happy people in a "Holidome" setting of restaurant type chairs and tables with big umbrellas over top of them and a large swimming pool.  I have no idea how this seeming resort/holiday getaway type place will interact with the office-type setting of the construction site I'm wandering around in.  It does not occur to me to try and get inside this existing building to look for help.

Finding such concern and frustration with not finding my vehicle amongst the ever-changing walls, I decide to find the two people whom I brought to this place.  I feel that, whatever they were supposed to do here, they're probably finished and would like to start back to wherever it is we came from.  It's only then that I realize that I haven't seen either of these folks and have no idea as to where to go looking for them.  I think it's highly unlikely that any of the construction workers would know anything about where they might be -- and I haven't seen anyone who looked to be a supervisor.

I'm not panicked by having lost track of my vehicle or these two people.  Concerned, yes, but not freaking out.

Bad Dream 171 -- Hassles in Trying to Give a Speech

In my dream, I am supposed to be giving a speech for my employers at what I assume is a customers office and/or shop.  To get there, I spend the previous night at a hotel (suggesting that the speech site is far away from my home and office).  

The hotel room is somewhere between dreary and Spartan.  It contains a single-size bed that is small and not very comfortable.  The only furniture is an old dresser a small table, and a very simple and uncomfortable chair.  Nothing in the room suggests it is dirty or dusty, just very plain and minimal with nothing added for creature comforts.  

The room is on the fourth floor.  No elevators, just simple staircases winding up the hallways.  I start to descend the staircases in the morning carrying my suitcase when I realize that I may have left the radio on in my room.  I can clearly hear a radio playing somewhere up above me, which might be in my room with the door open or it might be someone else's room. 

I don't wish to annoy any other guests that might be staying at the hotel, so I turn around (me and my suitcase) and consider walking up the several sets of stairs to return to my room to see if the radio was in my room -- and then decide not to bother.  I don't wish to expend the energy to carry my suitcase back up the stairs and then back down.  

Getting outside and looking for breakfast, I pass by several "greasy spoon" eateries.  The food smells quite good and it's probably safe to eat, but I think there will be a light breakfast available at the site of the speech.

As I walk along the street, I see a man poking holes in the windows of a sports car that is parked along my way.  He seems very angry and is yelling at someone inside the car.  He's using what looks like a crowbar for this damage he's inflicting.  I consider getting involved, but decide not to do so.  I don't want to be late for my speech and the chances of getting into a violent confrontation with the man seem quite likely -- and he's armed with a crowbar.

I get to the site of my speech and find I was correct that there would be a light breakfast offered, but all I can find are some very uninteresting looking pastries.  I select the least objectionable pastries, put them on a small plate, and walk the plate to a table.  I put the plate down and go to get something (possibly silverware or a napkin), and when I look back, I see that someone is in the process of stealing the pastries I've chosen.  

Bad Dream 170 -- Wasn't at all Ready

In my dream, I am about to start teaching a class in power plant controls.  Very much the kind of work I did for Leeds & Northrup for so many years.  

This system being described is much smaller than the pulverized-coal utility boilers that would normally be the subject of my course.  And so the course is scheduled to be much shorter.  And I have some familiarity with the technicians who will be my students -- and they seem to be very good at their jobs.  And so, the course should be easy and fun. 

The students are starting to gather in the classroom and I should be going in myself sometime soon.  But it suddenly hits me that I haven't studied anything about the details of this system -- and I don't have any system documentation that would bring me "up to speed" quickly.  I recall what I would have to do to get a copy of the documents, but that would likely take a couple of days at least.  And I normally have a copy of these documents for each student, so he/she can make notes on the drawings and write notes in the text margins.  I don't have anything like that either.  

As a Plan B for today's work, I consider just talking about the equipment we're providing to control the customer's facility rather than the actual work that our system will perform.  But I'm not sure of exactly what we're providing, so I can't use that as a stalling technique.

I think about simply telling my customer contact person (someone with whom I have had an excellent relationship) the truth and asking to delay the class for a day or more.  I can see his face darken and a frown develop: I've let him down and made his job much more difficult.  The major problem for him is that this is a Union Shop and such a delay/rescheduling will allow the Union officials to demand additional pay for these technicians and possibly even days off.  And things like that will become part of his performance records -- with a negative affect on any future raises or promotions.  

Bad Dream 169 -- Couldn't Fix the Last One

In my dream, I'm doing essentially Field Service Engineering work, repairing something like shower heads, but they're not actual shower heads.  The devices I'm working on are located in or near closets (confined spaces) and are located maybe 7 feet up on a wall.  They're small devices -- roughly the size of a baseball -- and they're connected to the wall with a metal pipe or tube of some sort.  The device has both plumbing and electrical connectors.

There are eight of these devices, each located in a different area.  I'm not told what is wrong with each device.  I have to figure it out -- which is one of the great satisfactions of being a Field Service work: when you show up the gizmo doesn't work.  When you get ready to leave, the gizmo does work. 

As I move from fixing one to the next, I accumulate a small group of people watching what I'm doing and supporting my efforts.  My making these things work will make their lives a bit easier.  

And I know that we're approaching some kind of holiday, where most people don't have to work.  And I'm looking forward to being one of those people taking it easy away from work.  

Fixing some of the eight gizmos is pretty easy, as the problem is pretty obvious.  Some require some careful thinking and understanding as to what the gizmo does and how it does it.  

When I get to the eighth and last gizmo, I'm stymied.  It's not at all obvious what the problem is -- and not even whether the problem is with the plumbing or the electrical parts of the system. 

If I had my voltage meter, I would be in good shape as I could fairly easily establish whether the problem was water or electricity.  But I don't have my meter.  

If I had my standard set of tools, I would be in good shape as I could fairly easily disassemble the gizmo so that the problem would likely be fairly obvious.  But I don't have my tools.  

If I understood the fine details of the gizmo operation, I would be in good shape as I could see where the system started to work and where it halted in mid-operation.   But I don't have the documentation I needed.

So I'm completely at a standstill and I know that it's very important that I get all eight gizmos back in operating order before the holiday begins.  And if I can't, I would likely have to stay on the job through the holiday trying to fix Gizmo Number Eight without any support from my home office, as everyone there would be on holiday.  And I had plans for my holiday...

I'm not only frustrated.  I'm not only angry.  I'm completely furious. 

 

Bad Dream 168 -- Teaching Kids the Tautline Hitch

In my dream, I have been invited by Teacher Dottie -- one of my favorite people -- to work with her class of kids -- somewhere between 9 and 12 years old -- to tie one of my favorite knots: the Tautline Hitch.  This knot forms a loop at the end of a rope that can be made larger or smaller easily, but once the rope is placed in tension, the loop will remain the same size rather than slipping to become a smaller loop.  So it can be tied loosely around a pole or other static location, adjusted for length by making the loop the proper size, and then pulled tightly and securely.  It's useful in a wide range of applications and I've used it to tie a wide range of bundles to the top of my car and then drive at 60 miles an hour with absolute confidence I've secured the bundle securely.  

There are roughly 35 kids in the class.  And I decide it would work best if I sat in the middle of the group and demonstrate how to tie the knot.  I start to talk to the kids in the room only to discover that half of them are in this room, but the other half are in the adjoining room, waiting patiently for me to show up.  I pick the larger of the two rooms for all the kids to gather, in part because there is a nice carpet on the floor for all the kids to sit on comfortably.  

For a reason that isn't at all clear to me, I have decided to use one of flute carriers that I've made out of PVC tubing as the static piece around which I will tie my demonstration Tautline Hitch.  It would be a good diameter for the demonstration -- a bit short in length but usable in any case.  But my plan to use the carrier fails because I simply don't have one with me.  And I'm now sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by Teacher Dottie's kids.  (I can see Teacher Dottie standing back by the wall and watching carefully.  She doesn't understand the problem, so she's smiling at us.)

The only thing I have available is a short length of tree branch, which is far from ideal.  It's not very straight, still covered with bark, and a bit too thin to be considered a pole. I think if I don't handle it carefully, it's likely to break in half.  But it's all I've got.

I also don't have a decent piece of rope.  Something like clothesline would have worked okay -- or anything of a similar thickness.  In my mind's eye, I see exactly the kind of rope that would have worked wonderfully well.  What I do have is a piece of badly frayed sisal rope that you might have used 100 years ago to wrap and secure packages.  The frayed elements of the rope will certainly hide any part of the finished knot, making the whole demonstration a rather futile exercise.  

As I begin to talk to the kids about the knot and why it's such a good one to know and use, I'm concerned that I'm going to look really stupid with my gnarly stick and fuzzy rope.  But I'm equally concerned that Teacher Dottie's reputation with the kids might also take a hit.  

I get a couple of sentences into my talk when one of the kids interrupts me with an observation about the flaws in my presentation -- unrelated to the stick and rope issues.  The kid makes a good point, but it badly interrupts the flow of my presentation.  I try to tell him that I appreciate his observation and would like to discuss it with him later, but he wants a response from me right here and now.  I try to return to my talk, but soon the same kid has another observation as to why what I'm doing is not right.  This happens several more times.  The problem for me is not just that he's being disruptive, but that his observations are correct, if not particularly useful for what I'm trying to do.  I know that Teacher Dottie would have an excellent way to agree with the kid's observations but do it in a way that would allow her to continue with what she was doing.  But I haven't a clue as to how she would do it.

The kid's constant interruptions have totally derailed what I was trying to do.  A number of other kids have now retreated from the circle we had formed and were talking comfortably with each other -- about something totally unrelated to tying Tautline Hitches, I'm absolutely sure.  

Part of me wants to "Soldier On" and tie the knot in this lousy rope around this lousy stick -- and then beat a hasty retreat.  Another part of me wants to apologize to the group for being so woefully unprepared for the presentation.  I'm sure that Teacher Dottie can pull the class back together -- once I decide which path to take and pursue it to the bitter end...   

Bad Dream 167 -- Margot

In my dream, I'm sitting at a small table.  A little more sturdy than a card table, but roughly the same size.  I'm sitting across from a female person, who is likely Deb -- my wife -- but I'm not sure.  We're talking casually with spaces between bits of conversation.

I hear my name called from my left and above me.  A woman's voice saying, "Randy??"  It sounds very much as if she's surprised to see me.  Strong accent on the first syllable.  

I look off to my left and a bit up to see who's calling.  And the woman in question is leaning over so we are facing each other quite closely.  She smiles. She gives me a bit of time to recognize her -- which I can't do.  She puts on this "Aw shucks" mopey face to let me know she's disappointed that I couldn't recall who she is.  But there's humor underlying the mopeyness.  

She says, "Oh, so you've forgotten me."  More mopey face that's still being playful.  "I'm Margot."  Mopey face gone.

Now to the best of my recollection, I've only known one person named "Margot," and that was a girl in my classes back in High School.  (We were part of the "Advanced Program" -- being more academically inclined than most of the other students.  So we all took the same classes together.  And thereby got to be more familiar with each other than other students in other classes.)

And my recollection is that Margot was a pretty girl in a soft, subtle way -- unlike several other girls, whose clothes and attitude might best be described as "brassy."  But since she was in my classes, she would be in her 70's -- just like I am.  The woman I'm looking at -- who is now smiling broadly at me -- looks to be in her early 40's.  She's wearing a handsome tailored suit that makes her look she's just come from work.   

I don't recall anything about that Margot -- how she looked, how she spoke, the color of her hair, nothing.  [If I still had my High School Yearbook, I would have looked her up shortly after I awoke this morning, but alas...]  The lady I'm looking at has a very pleasant, warm face and a lovely smile.  She seems ever-so-glad to see me -- but whether or not this is the woman I went to High School with, I can't recall ever interacting with that Margot.  Not that I wouldn't have liked to, but I was quite shy in High School...

I return her big smile with one of my own.  This only makes her smile even wider.  Clearly I would love to spend time with this Margot -- whoever she is -- and get acquainted or reacquainted as the situation called for.  And it is abundantly clear to me that she would also like to spend time with me for the same things.

I take her hands in mine and am tempted to kiss her hands.  She understands this and responds positively.   

But I suddenly recall that I am sitting at the table across from this other person -- and we were chatting amicably before Margot showed up.  I feel that showing any signs of wanting to get better acquainted with Margot could make this other person understandably jealous.  And asking to be excused from our ongoing conversation so that I could spend time with Margot would likely be disastrous.   

After the dream is over and I'm up and moving about, I realize that one of the attractions of getting to know this Margot -- above and beyond the fact that she was an attractive, relatively young woman -- was that she had shown such a strong interest in reuniting with me.  She knew me.  And wanted to know more about me.  

Bad Dream 166 -- Orange Juice for Ice Cream

In my dream, I am standing in front of an ice cream store -- at the window where you can order a choice, pay money, and get your ice cream creation handed out to you.  No need to go inside the store.  I've visited this place before, but am not a regular customer.

Looking at the list of choices, I make my selection.  When it's my turn, I tell the lady inside the window the flavor of ice cream that I've chosen and that I want mine served in a cup rather than a cone.  (Down through the years, I've had cones collapse on me, leak the melted ice cream all over my hands and clothes, etc.) I am informed that the name I've given is incorrect, and then told the name I should have used.  The name "Coppertop" was one of these two names, but I don't recall which -- either the name I asked for or the name I've been told was the correct one.  

Not being fussy about such things, I agree to the second name.  As I'm waiting for my treat to show up, I overhear a conversation concerning one of the people who normally work at this store.  That person not well and she won't be back at the store for some time.  Not being a regular customer here, her name doesn't mean anything to me, although I'm sorry to hear that anyone is not feeling well.  

I'm also told that they can't serve my order to me in a cup, and the reason has something to do with the lady who's sick and therefore not at the store today.  This makes little sense to me, but I'm in no mood to pursue the issue.  I wait a while for my treat to be delivered.

When my order comes out to me, I am handed a glass of orange juice.  It looks like a perfectly fine -- if somewhat small -- glass of orange juice, but certainly bears no similarity to the ice cream I've ordered.  During my presence in front of the store, I've seen several people order ice cream and later handed their ice cream.  My serving of orange juice seems to be an exception to this normal procedure of things.  

(It may be of interest that I am never asked to pay for my order -- either when I place the order or when it's served.)

My dream gets a little fuzzy at this point, and I experience a reprise of being given the orange juice.

I certainly don't want to raise a fuss, and the store has other customers placing orders and being given ice cream.  They're pretty busy.  So I don't feel comfortable even asking why I've been given orange juice and/or asking for the product that I actually ordered.  I understand that if I drink any of the orange juice, I'm committed to accepting all that's happened.  My only way of getting ice cream at this point would be to take the orange juice back -- interfering with the store's line of customers.  No one around me seems surprised or puzzled that I'm holding a glass of orange juice when everyone else is holding ice cream.   

Bad Dream 165 -- Allison Doesn't Care

First of all, an Introduction:  I've known Allison for decades.  And when I first met her, I was sure she was the most beautiful woman I've ever encountered.  Our "relationship" started when she was my massage therapist -- and she was by far the best therapist I've ever had.  So I was her client in that capacity for 5 or so years.  She's never said this, but I think she stopped massage work due to the wear and tear on her hands and forearms.  But by that time, she had developed a clientele as a life coach/counselor -- and she's always been a very good listener.

I'm pretty sure Allison recognized that I had a serious crush on her -- and fortunately for me (and possibly her as well) she drew distinct lines between having clients and having friends.  I must admit that -- at the time -- I found this distinction irritating and frustrating.  

I kept seeing her in this new capacity as my life coach, more just to be close to her rather than the actual help she provided in helping me meet my daily issues.  After a year or two in this arrangement, I decided it wasn't helping me and that my ulterior motive was becoming clear to both of us.  I stopped going and didn't try to make further contact.  

Many years later, she sent me an e-mail asking for some help with photographing her artwork.  (She does some absolutely stunning mandalas.)  I agreed to help, and we worked together for several months with several different mandalas.  

A year or two later, we agreed to get together for coffee and conversation.  This worked well, and I soon realized that she had placed me in this other list -- the friends list.   By this time, I was ready simply to have her as a friend with occasional get-togethers and not push the relationship to anything deeper or more involved.  And that's how things stand today.

                           ________________________________________

In my dream, I am in a room without any distinguishing features.  And Allison is there as well.  There are no other people anywhere in this dream.  

Allison is just back from a long trip -- and I don't recall that the destination of the trip was disclosed in the dream.  

And for the first time since I've known her, her attitude towards me is cold and distant.  Even when I was just a client, she always had a kindness in her voice and demeanor suggesting that she was happpy that I was in the room with her.  But not now.  It may have been that she needed to have this meeting with me, even if she didn't want to.

I try to start a conversation with her, asking about how she was and where she had been, but her reaction and response seemed apathetic and barely responsive -- with just a word or two i reply.  After several attempts to re-establish a friendly rapport with her, I'm ready to give up and walk away.  Maybe forever, but I hope not.  

So I confront her by saying something along the lines of: "Listen, if my being here with you is some kind of annoyance or bother, please just tell me and I'll go away.  Would you like me to go away?"  And she just turns a bit to look me straight in the face.  She doesn't say anything -- and I get the feeling that she is telling me with her looks that it's not worth her time even to tell me to go away.  

Bad Dream 164 -- Me in a Wheelchair

In my dream, I am sitting in a wheelchair -- even though I'm reasonably healthy.  I think there may have been some minor issue in one of my legs, but it certainly doesn't need me to be in a wheelchair.  But I plan on using that as an excuse if I'm asked about why I'm using one.

I am "driving" the chair around a variety of environments -- city streets and suburban-style housing areas.  At times, the area is remindful of Wilson Point.

I am delighted that the chair is so easy to operate -- going up slight inclines or over short curbs without any problem.  If anything, it moves a little too fast and I have to slow it down, but this doesn't happen often.  

I decide to take the chair for a ride over a route that I just made up.  It will be fairly long and include a variety of surfaces and environments.  Just what I need to really put the chair through its paces.  

Part of the purpose for my excursion -- in addition to just having fun -- was searching for a candy bar.  I think it was a Payday candy bar that I was looking for (my current favorite!).  But none of the stores or shops I go into have anything like that.  Little "penny candy" bits or large-portion packages but nothing in between.     

I find myself on a pier that extends over what feels like a "river" off the Chesapeake Bay -- quite like the water I grew up practically next to.  And one of the big wheels on my chair starts to break down, and part of that wheel comes off the chair and falls into the water.  I watch it float on the surface of the water, knowing that the first wavelet of any size will swamp the part and it will sink.  And I will never be able to find it again.  And the chair will be useless.  I consider jumping into the water to rescue the part -- thereby blowing my "cover" of being an invalid.  And I decide it's worth the risk and I get up from the chair and prepare to jump in.

But somehow, I don't jump in -- and find myself standing beside my now-inoperative wheelchair.  And wouldn't you know that I am now as far away from my starting point as I would ever want to get.  My plan was to turn around after my trip onto the pier and head home.  And "driving" the wheelchair would have made that a quick, easy, and pleasant trip.  But now, I not only have to walk all the way back, but I have to drag along the damaged wheelchair.  

(For what it's worth, I don't recall any other people that I can identify in this dream.)

Bad Dream 163 -- Juggling, Not Juggling

My dream starts off with me walking down a slight, grassy incline where I see several people in front of me.  It's Frank Goedeke, Travis, and a few unrecognizables; and everybody is practicing their juggling -- either solo or in pairs.  They're standing at the bottom of the incline, which makes sense to do if you're juggling.  It looks very much like a standard Turks Head practice session.  

(My notes say something about being at Drexel, but I don't recall the reference and I don't see how it might affect the dream's meaning.)

I am still not terribly interested in starting up my juggling practice routines again, but it would be nice to catch up with some of the guys.  So I continue walking towards them.  

My attention is diverted to slightly beyond the Turks Head group, to where a young woman seems to be setting up for practice herself.  She's maybe 20 or 30 feet away from the group.  She is quite tall -- maybe 6' 3" or so -- slender, with an athlete's build, long light brown hair, and a handsome face.  

She reaches into her "boat bag," which she had placed on the ground, and pulled out several balls.  I can't tell how many.  She readies herself as if she's about to start juggling and then throws several balls up in a variety of directions -- none of which will be catchable.  

I walk over to her and start telling her about the Turks Head Jugglers and how joining the group could improve her juggling.  She seems to have some mild interest, although I can see that she's also somewhat disinterested.  As in "I'm not really looking for help, thanks."  Maybe she's just being polite and maybe she's just wavering about showing interest.  I can't tell.  I continue to talk up the group, thinking that when she meets the guys, her interest in participating will increase.  

Suddenly a man wearing a suit shows up and interrupts me by grabbing her attention.  He's much shorter than she is, and he has to look up pretty hard to see her face.  He's pulling gently on her arm as if to drag her away.  He reminds her that she is due to participate in a 2-mile hike which is about to start.  And that the hike has to be over before some larger event commences.  She seems neither to be glad to see him or annoyed that he's interrupted her practice.  I get the feeling he's her manager and this behavior is not unusual for the two of them.  (He doesn't have to explain what event because he knows that she's familiar with her commitment to participate in that larger event.  It isn't clear to me what the event is that he's coming to fetch her to.)  He leads her away, and maybe she's a bit reluctant to leave the area.  

Bad Dream 164 -- Getting Hit on by Eileen

In my dream, I am sharing "space" (i.e., no particular background) with Eileen Farrell and, for a short period of time, Zinc.

Zinc shows up early in the dream, then I see him walking away, leaving Eileen and me alone together.  Now, Eileen has always had a killer smile and a good personality.  She's wonderfully smart and highly educated.  But she is not what I consider sexually attractive.  But she's smiling at me in a way I've never seen her smile at me.  

Eileen says a couple of things that could easily be interpreted as "I want you."  I'm uncomfortable with this for a variety of reasons:

 -- She and I are here (wherever that is...) alone together and I don't know how to leave.

 -- She is the wife of one of my oldest and dearest friends.

 -- I don't find her attractive and, at my advanced age, I don't think I could successfully meet her request.

I understand somehow that she has a medical condition and ask her about this -- in order to change the subject as much as anything else -- and she brushes aside the issue with "Oh, it's nothing much and certainly nothing you have to worry about."  Hmmm...

This "cat and mouse" verbiage goes on for some time, with Eileen getting more and more explicit.  At some point, she stops and takes a container of water and starts pouring it into her blouse.  I'm alarmed and puzzled and ask her about this, but she once again assures me that it's no big deal and I shouldn't be concerned.  

Finally, I find myself lying on my back with Eileen straddling me.  She presses her crotch against mine and starts grinding.  I start debating whether I should "give it a try" or just continue to decline to participate.  

Bad Dream 162 -- Big Family Gathering

In my dream, I am at a large family gathering.  Everyone seems quite happy and chatty.  I recognize my Mom clearly and others rather vaguely -- including two of my brothers.  [And it just occurs to me that those three people are dead.]  The gathering includes considerable amounts and varieties of food -- and so there are a lot of cooking and dining dishes that need to be washed.

Someone has already been cleaning a lot of the dishes and pots and pans, but seems to have decided to join the party rather than continue cleaning up.  And it has fallen to me to take over the cleaning responsibilities.  No one has volunteered to help me, but I don't mind.  I recognize the importance of family being together and I'm content to play my part in helping that to work.  After all, people may need more clean plates or glasses or silverware any time soon.

As I work away, I start to feel a bit of resentment.  I took over the dish duties when no one else would but now I feel as if I'm being taken advantage of.  I start to consider how I might get someone else to -- at least -- help with this task.  

As I'm considering this, one of my old girlfriends walks into the kitchen area.  Our relationship took place back during my time in either high school or college.  The relationship has ended, but we're still comfortable chatting with each other from time to time.  I'm surprised to see her here.

She says "I know that [someone's name] thinks you're a Man of Mystery, but I know that you..."

I don't let her get any farther with her statement.  My explosive anger is caused in part by my growing resentment about doing all these dishes but also because she's about to give me her analysis as to who she thinks I really am.  And I feel she never really did understand me despite her feeling absolutely sure that she does.  

I unleash a torrent of words at her: 

 -- denigrating her notion that she really understands me

 -- expressing anger that she just shows up in the middle of my family's gathering and wants to spout some nonsense about who I really am

 -- trying to cover my concern that I actually do put on a facade of being a Man of Mystery

 -- and a little bit of "Geez, at least you could offer to help me with the dishes."

Bad Dream 161 -- Trying to teach Deni to Juggle

 In my dream, I am trying to teach Deni (one of my very favorite people -- and one with whom I wish I could spend more time...) how to juggle clubs.  Which, in the real world, is silly because they are a fine juggler of various implements and getting better all the time.  

Anyway, we start with one club, to two clubs, etc. and that goes lightning fast to a solid three-club cascade.  Neither one of us is surprised, and Deni obviously wants to know "What's next?"

At this point, an Unidentifiable shows up, whose skill set is close to Deni's.  It's obvious to me that having the two of them learn how to pass clubs back and forth would be a Very Good Thing.  Both Deni and the Unidentifiable object to this idea -- but it's not at all clear why.  I start to formulate an explanation as to why this is a good next step, but abandon the idea, since the two of them seem determined in their objection.  

So I decide to work with Deni on doing double-spins in the middle of the club cascade pattern.  (The Unidentifiable has evaporated.)  I take three clubs in hand, two in my right and one in my left, and try to start a simple single-spin cascade.  It doesn't work.  Well, that will happen occasionally to almost any juggler.  So I pick up the clubs and try again.  No luck.  I try several more times and always get stuck at the same place, which is getting a good starting throw from my right hand.  Deni is being a good sport in waiting for the demonstration to begin, but I'm getting truly annoyed and embarrassed.  I have Deni practice a double spin with a single club while they are waiting for me to get my act in gear.  And still no luck on my part.

In frustration, I take a single club and throw it away as far as I can.  The landscape has changed to something like the Southwest US desert: sand almost to the horizon and rocky hills at the edge of my vision.  Scrub bushes and grasses here and there.  Deni is no longer part of the dream.

I watch the club sail away.  It's going a great deal farther than I could possibly throw it -- sailing towards the hills.  It lands roughly a quarter mile away -- and I know it's going to be simple luck to ever find that club again.  

I wake up.   

Bad Dream 160 -- Fixing a Door with Jackie Gleason

 In my dream, I am in the Social Room of our Quaker Meetinghouse.  There is some repair work being done on the door leading out to the porch -- a problem with the lock.  

The person leading the work is Jackie Gleason.  He's being pleasantly garrulous as he's working.  The door's locking mechanism has been removed, uncovering the hole that allows key access from the outside.  It's a rather large hole, given its purpose -- and very roughly cut out.  Not a great surprise for a door that's probably been "repaired" a dozen times or more over the last 200 years.  

Jackie brings a sabre saw over to the door and tells me to watch carefully and learn something about saws and door locks, etc.  I'm a little surprised that he would want to make this seemingly large hole even larger, but decide not to bring up the subject.  He cuts a line straight up from the hole -- maybe 2 inches long.  Then cuts another one parallel to the first one roughly the same length and moving in the same direction.  

Quickly, there is now a piece of wood almost the size of an open hand removed from the door.  I'm amazed at the skill Jackie has shown and curious as to why he had to do this.  I take the piece of wood over to Deb, who is standing nearby, and show her how neatly it's been cut.  She seems to understand that it's done okay but no recognition from her as to why it's been removed from the door.  

I look at the enlarged hole in the door and realize that it's big enough that the entire lock mechanism would simply fall through the hole.  There's wasn't nearly enough wood to hold the lock in place.   

Bad Dream 159 -- Getting Back with Mary?

 In my dream, I am talking with a friend.  Guy friend.  It's not given where we are.  

He's trying to get better acquainted with a girl I kind of know, but not that well.  But she is a good friend of Mary Maguire -- and he's suggesting we set up a double date: he and the young lady he wishes to know better and I get back in touch with Mary.  I try to explain to him that our relationship was usually stormy.  That while we had, I think, a strong mutual respect, our lives were aimed at considerably different trajectories.  And that this was occasionally painful to me and possibly to her as well.  And so I didn't think an overture to start seeing each other again would not be looked at positively.  So I'm sorry, but I can't help.  Best of luck.  

Well, it turns out that a number of minor characters in the dream also think it would be a good idea for me to make an overture to Mary.  Mainly because it would help my friend and his intended date, but also a good idea overall.  I overhear bits of conversation to that effect: "Do you think Randy's going to do this?  Is he going to cooperate with [friend's name]?  He could really use that help from Randy..."  That kind of stuff.  

After some time of this -- and trying to explain to my friend that he's asking too much of me, but getting counter arguments all the way -- my dream switches to me running down a long hallway.  It is remindful of the major hallway at Leeds & Northrup's main building.  I am enjoying the speed and feeling the breeze on my face immensely.  I come to an intersection and nearly collide with someone walking on the crossing hallway, but deftly maneuver around her at high speed.  This feels great.  

Then I find myself standing still -- I think still in the same hallway -- and I notice Brian Fahey doing some repair/renovation work on a room beside the hallway.  He looks up and smiles a bit and with his demeanor as much as his words, he asks me if I'm going to get in touch with Mary.  This would seem to be important to him, although I can't imagine why.  And once again, I overhear conversations about whether I'm going to get in touch with Mary or not.  This is clearly a big deal for most everyone in the building!

I reiterate aloud  that I have no idea whether Mary would have the slightest interest in getting together again.  And that doing so could simply invite more heartache.  There's nothing to suggest the her trajectory and mine were getting anywhere close.  Not then, not now.

It then occurs to me that it's possible that Mary has cooked up this whole plot.  That she wants to see me again, but doesn't want to come right out and ask.  From what I remember of her, she is perfectly capable of being this clever.  And devious.  I'm flattered to think this is a possibility, but somewhat doubtful that it explains what's going on.  And I start to develop a hope that maybe it is true... and if it is and I let the chance go by without grabbing it...  

When I wake up, what comes to mind fairly quickly is the Grateful Dead's song "Shakedown Street."  I always enjoyed the tune, but the only words I remember are "...used to be the heart of town."

Bad Dream 158 -- Travels with Scott Sampson, etc.

In my dream, I am in a variety of places with a variety of persons.  Very chapteresque.  And a great deal of detail that I'm afraid has evaporated.  

The other "person" in this dream is Scott Sampson, the Architect on our recently completed Meetinghouse renovation project, with a smattering of Zinc, one of my dearest friends and recently departed.

Scott and I have had some kind of falling out recently, but we find ourselves together in a car trip of some considerable distance.  We've kind of patched up whatever the issue(s) was/were in the past, but still a bit wary of each other.  

One stop on our trip is at a small corner restaurant.  Wooden floor, it feels quite homey and inviting.  There is a family standing in front of us to get inside, nice-looking Mom and Dad and one or two kids... and a Canada Goose.  The goose is standing quietly near the kids and it seems to feel it's simply one of the kids -- and the family is perfectly fine with that.  They enter the restaurant, with Scott and me closely behind.  The family is met by a guy who's probably the owner or at least the manager.  He greets the family warmly -- clearly the family are regular customers -- and they stand in the entrance to the dining area chatting amiably.

The owner/manager reaches into one of his pants pockets and takes out a morsel of food and holds it out for the Goose.  The Goose is obviously well practiced in this, as it holds its head straight up and lets the food fall into its mouth.  This happens several times.  Everyone looks pleased about this, including Scott and me.  The owner then moves over to Deb (who just showed up in the dream) and hands her a couple of morsels of food.  The Goose "gets this" and moves over to Deb and stretches its head and neck up to receive the food.  This pleases everybody as well.  Then it is Scott's turn, and that works out well.  Then the Goose looks at me and walks over to stand in front of me.  I haven't been given any morsels of food, so I reach down and gently embrace the Goose -- who doesn't seem to mind, thank goodness!  I am amazed how soft and pleasant the birds feathers are.  It seems to be a pleasure for both me and the Goose.  

The scene shifts now to an old apartment building.  I am standing inside talking with an old lady about (something I forget!).  I seem to have lost contact with Scott, and I think my conversation with this lady include trying to reconnect with him.  As I go to leave and am now back on the sidewalk, the old lady tells me to tell (somebody) that the small park? parking lot? simply isn't going to work and they should stop trying to make it work.  This is obviously an issue for her, although it didn't have anything to do with our previous conversation.  Our car is parked near a corner of two busy streets, and I'm concerned that neither Scott not I can leave via the car separately and abandon the other.  We're a long way from home and would have no other way of getting there.  

I'm also a bit concerned that the car is parked near the corner and is vulnerable to getting sideswiped by another vehicle making a turn at the intersection.  This does not happen.

The scene shifts again and I am in another restaurant, but one with the same homey feel of the previous one.  Scott is there with someone else -- who turns out to be an old friend of his, and he had left me to track down this other guy and spend time with him as the old friends they were.  I am standing, but the two of them are sitting down and eating.  The meal for each consists of a large, very appetizing looking sandwich.  I want to voice my opinion that Scott shouldn't have just walked away without explaining what he was doing, but he holds out a third sandwich to me -- clearly one that he bought for me.  It looks equally appetizing, and I accept that things have turned out okay and I should set aside any grudges or hard feelings.  The sandwich is tuna fish salad, and it smells wonderful!

Bad Dream 157 -- Saving Ken Taran

I should note that, like so many dreams I've had here at Crosslands, this one was rich in detail and quite vivid -- and I can only remember the "bare bones" of the dream.  That said, here we go:

In my dream, I am in a rather nondescript building and, I think, in the lobby section.  In any case, I'm in an fairly open area with a terrazzo-type floor.  And sitting on that floor is Ken Taran -- and he looks to be in pretty bad shape.

Now I think the important thing about it being Ken is that he gave me my first big break in getting a serious technical job -- doing things I truly enjoyed and that I was good at.  He was interviewing me for a technical trainer position, for which my credentials didn't match up at all well.  I could tell he was about to say: "Thanks a lot for coming in, but we were really looking for someone..." so I took a chance at saying something that showed clearly that I understood what he wanted and that I could supply that.  He frowned at me, then slowly said: "Yeaaaah, that's right.  That's exactly right."  As if it was a conceptual notion he had never considered -- but was spot on,  And he gave me the job -- which I kept for over 15 years.  

So the point being, seeing Ken in such an unhappy situation gets me quite distressed.  I ask the few people around me: "What can we do?  What should we do?" and get no answer.  Clearly, if anyone was going to help poor Ken, it was me.  

(Here's where the dream recollection gets fuzzy.)

I pick Ken up -- which is remarkable in and of itself, because the real Ken Taran is tall and well built.  In "real life" I could never pick him up and hold him in my arms the way I do in this dream.  And I carry him to a place where I think he will at least be more comfortable.  How I can address whatever it is that has made him so weak and depleted is something I simply don't know.  

Somehow in this dream, a doctor shows up, He is young and quite handsome and beams with self confidence.  He looks at Ken and me and tells me that he knows what to do -- not just to make Ken better but to save his life.  (I have been noticing that Ken seems to be getting weaker as I carry him from place to place.) 

Saving him requires getting him to a large boat or small ship moored some distance from the land where we are.  I carry Ken to a concrete dock/pier/wharf while the doctor retrieves a small boat that he will use to carry Ken to the boat moored in the harbor.  

The doctor's dinghy is ridiculously small and the doc is paddling or rowing it over to where I'm standing.  Miraculously, we transfer Ken from my arms to the small dinghy and the doc starts moving towards the larger boat.  

I'm not convinced that the doctor's plan will save Ken, but I know that giving Ken to the doc was the best -- and in fact, only -- possible plan to save him.  

Bad Dream 156 -- Eagles at the Old Homestead

In my dream, I am standing in the front yard of 1209 Tupelo Place -- the house where I was brought up from the age of five until I left for college.  

Much to my amazement, there is a Bald Eagle in a small tree close to the street.  It's a beautiful bird -- all turned out in its white-and-black best plumage.  He/she is standing next to a pile of leaves in the tree and pulling/resorting the leaves in what seems to be a purposeful series of motions.  Is it working to start a nest?  Is it looking for something inside?  Can't tell.

I start towards the house to tell my folks about the wonderful sight.  On my way, I look slightly off to my left and realize there is a huge nest there, maybe five feet across.  It's not made of sticks, the way you would expect to see on a typical birds nest.  Instead, it seems to be possibly hardened mud or other something like it.  I know, however, that this is an Eagle's nest and probably the nest of the birds I have just seen.  

I'm a little fuzzy on whether or not I actually point these birds and nest things out to my dad.  If I did, he didn't give much of a reaction.  Like he already knew this.

Bad Dream 155 -- In Cuba with Deb

In my dream, Deb and I are visiting Cuba.  We are standing on a wide concrete jetty or pier looking out towards the water.  

There are maybe 50 or 100 people in front of us, standing in our sight line to the water,  Everyone is standing quite still -- and the scene makes us curious.

We worm our way between people until we can see the water clearly -- and understand why everyone is standing so still.  They are in awe of what they see.  The water is a breathtaking crystal blue, just a bit short of iridescence.  A bit brighter than Robin's Egg blue.

People are standing roughly 8 or 10 feet from the water, and there are a couple of uniformed personnel off to the left who, it would seem, are responsible for keeping people away from the edge of the water.  I don't realize that yet and so approach the edge of the jetty/pier to get the closest look I can.  

I realize that the water is not very deep but running extremely fast.  The stream is quite wide -- maybe 75 feet or so.  It's clear to me that, if you should fall into the water, you would be swept away, and that's why the constabulary are there.  Realizing this, I walk back from the edge to the line that everyone else has formed -- at a respectable distance from the water.  

Shortly after I go back in line, a young boy goes forward to the edge of the water.  I'm a bit concerned that he's simply following my example.  The gendarmes don't try to get the boy to get back away from the edge, which surprises and puzzles me.  After, it would seem, satisfying his curiosity about the water, the boy returns safely to the crowd.

The scene changes a bit, and the crowd seems to be dispersing.  I don't know why.  I see a young boy -- quite possibly the one who had approached the water -- standing next to an elderly many who is probably the child's grandfather.  I go over to the boy and explain to him how dangerous it was to stand that close to water moving that rapidly, but he doesn't react to what I'm saying.  And grandfather doesn't react either.  

Maybe I'm lecturing the wrong kid.  Maybe neither one of them speak English.  Maybe they think I should mind my own business.  

The dream leaves me with a vivid image of the rushing, sparkling-blue water.   

Bad Dream 154 -- Window Fans: Where and Why

When we lived at 419 W. Union Street, our hot summer days were made much more bearable by the strategic placement of large window fans.  The brackets for the fans covered the entire window opening so that there was minimal "backflow" around the fan.  It was fun figuring out the best path for the air -- coming in on the ground floor windows, curving around the stairs to go up and being exhausted out the upstairs windows.  Meaning the fan downstairs blew air in and the one upstairs pulled the air out.  Opening and closing rarely used room doors increased the effectiveness of the system.  

In my dream, I am back at 1209 Tupelo Place with my Mom and Dad.  (1209 was also a two-story dwelling, so my fan approach should be equally effective.  In fact, my Dad had place a similar fan in the upstairs window which looked directly down the staircase.  This was probably my inspiration for my setup at 419.)

My dream probably "takes place" in the summer because I'm concerned that 1209 only has a fan upstairs -- and not one on the ground floor to help push the cool morning air in.  

I ask Mom, "Where's the downstairs fan?  What happened to it?" and she tells me, "Oh, we got rid of it.  We didn't need it."  I start to explain the air path we're looking for to her, but she's not interested in hearing about it.  Dad had been hanging around behind Mom, and he senses this is not going well and that he's going to leave.  Which he does.  

I get pedantic on Mom explaining in excruciating detail how the air comes in here and goes out there and that the warmest air drifts up the stairs to be replaced by cooler air from outside on the ground floor windows yadda yadda.  She's listening politely, but I know she's firm in her opinion that the downstairs fan is unnecessary.