writing – Page 11 – Michael Seidel, writer

It seemed as if I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.

I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.

Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”

I was like, the judging? I said nothing.

They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a brown wooden basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”

They were doing activity as this was being explained. I watched, following, gleaning the essence. This was a competition. The groups had stuff. I had to find it but judge it not on its merits but on its quantity. This would not be hard.

I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.

My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”

I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.

One of the groups’ leaders, tall guy with a rambling reddish-brown beard, was watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”

The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”

Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.

That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.

A woman in uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”

I nodded; I could tell.

She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”

“I can see that,” I replied.

The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.

Dream endThe Little Competition Dream

I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.

I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.

Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”

I was like, the judging? I said nothing.

They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”

I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.

My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”

I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.

One of the groups’ leaders were watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”

The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”

Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.

That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.

A woman in dark green serge uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”

I nodded; I could tell.

She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”

“I can see that,” I replied.

The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.

Dream end

My wife and I were staying in a white apartment building, in a spacious ground-floor unit.

Located on flat land, seven stories tall, the building was part of a busy area, full of energetic people and planning. Part of this was about the traffic going on with the broad street in front of the house. Other changes involved landscaping.

I had a sort of control where I could receive and send information. As I passed information on, someone in charge approached and asked how I was doing that. I showed them my control, a black rectangle similar to a television remote control. I demonstrated how I pointed it at things, pressed a button, and learned from doing that. I could then point it to someone, press a button, and share that information with that person.

In response to questions, I clarified that, yes, I could do simultaneous information collection and broadcast it to multiple people at the same time. But I also showed him that the remote was old and damaged; several buttons were weak or loose. I sometimes had to hold them in longer before the desired effects took place.

I hinted that I would really appreciate a new one, and they implied they might be able to help.

In another part of my dream, I had five cats. All were cats who previously lived with me and passed away. They were just hanging around the apartment, being cats.

Then a strange cat entered the front door. Resembling a small gray lion, it came in and then paused when it saw our cats.

One of our cats ran right up and attacked it. Our cat and the lion cat wrestled for a few seconds and then our cat pulled away and stretched. “Oh, he’s only playing,” we realized.

We then watched as the other cats interacted. One of our cats attacked one of the others, throwing them down. But then all the fighting stopped and the cats just settled down and washed.

It was then time for my wife and I to leave to go somewhere. As we left our apartment, I saw that the building’s rear landscaping was torn up. All the grass and plants had been removed.

That surprised me and my wife. We talked about it and then another approached and assured us that these plans had been in place for a long time. My wife and I chatted further, admitting, we must have missed the notice.

Dream end