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.