The Flagman Dream

I spent a lot of time thinking about this one. 

To begin…I’m in some ill-defined place (think of petroleum jelly smeared across a camera lens and you have a sense) that’s green, white and black (think white sidewalks and buildings (maybe), and a grassy pitch) (I think the ‘black’ were dark windows, but I’m not pos). It’s a big, noisy crowd, and I’m with a small group in this rowdy crowd. It reminded me of a Pink Floyd concert I went to in Germany back in the late eighties, where one hundred thousand people swallowed my group of five.

We’re meeting others, laughing and having fun, when I see a man off to one side raise and lower a flag. It happens so fast on my vision’s edge that I’m not certain that I saw it. I’m momentarily at a loss, wanting to continue what I was doing versus going to check on the man with the flag. Why was he there? Was the flag for me?

As the dream’s events progressed (and I kept going), I thought, wait, was that a white flag or a green flag? Uncertain, I thought again, I should check, but was distracted by others, and didn’t. Then, with a start, my memory said, that was a checkered flag. But a checkered flag is used for finishing a race while a white flag is used for surrender or to warn that one lap remains. A green flag means go.

Those conflicting ideas took me out of the crowd. I needed to know which flag it was. I had to find the man with the flag and see what flag he’d waved and if it was for me. I didn’t believe it was for me. As I remembered him, I thought he should be easy to find; white, he was short with a small mustache, and was wearing a bowler hat. Someone wearing a bowler should stand out, except he’d been so short, I thought that would make it hard to find it.

Perusing that dream thinking, I saw bushes and concluded (with some excitement) that he’d been over by the bushes to the side, or maybe some bushes somewhere else. Now separated from the crowd, I hunted for bushes and then thought, go back, go back to where you were, retrace your steps and you’ll be able to find him, right? Sure, made sense. But there’d been no markers or landmarks that I could remember. My friends, who might’ve been able to help me, were nowhere in sight.

So it was that I found myself alone, unsure where I was or where I’d been, searching for something, looking for something with only a vague idea of it.

That’s where it ended.


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