Bad Dream 214 -- Who is that Person?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wake up.  

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wake up.

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