I have distinct memories of three dreams last night. I’ll not torture the net with many details.

I do want to ask Hugh Laurie why he came into my dream.

There were five of us present. We were all in pale white hooded robes, doing some fantastic wizard stuff, when I made some cutting observation that it was all being staged. It was fake. Upon those statements, the action stopped. The lights went up and the robes fell away, revealing us as common, average humans in pants, shirts and shoes. And yes, we were on a sound stage. And yes, one of the other players was Hugh Laurie. He was in charge. Sneering at me after we were exposed, he said, “Thanks for ruining the magic.”

Revelations were the general themes of the three dreams. In one of the other dreams, I was being taught how others reacted to hypothetical situations and what they did to cheat and achieve better results. This was being done in a high school. Classes were going on but I was part of a select adult class being taught this particular subject. We were using the students’ results as study materials.

The students had written their homework and test answers on strange materials. One was written on a metal locker with a black marker. I had to bend down to read it. I sharply remember another was written on a box of Wheaties. (I was amused by that detail, as Wheaties was my go-to breakfast cereal when I was young.) They had neat writing. It was in blue ink, with a pen, cursive, down the side panel, around the ingredients and nutritional information.

They were writing about what they would do if they were given a speeding ticket. This person had written on the Wheaties, ‘I would eat the ticket!’ That made me laugh. Others and I discussed our findings, marveling and joking about how creative these young people were. I was beginning to think in new ways, I realized. Our instructor then appeared ‘off dream’. They announced that we were ready to begin our next stage of training using the knowledge acquired from this exercise when I awoke.

There is so much more but the prospect of remembering all those details exhausts me. Then I would probably fall asleep and dream more. It’s like my own version of Catch-22.