The Objector / PJs

Tuesday Night

Dream 1: The Objector

I was looking at a very old black and white photograph of what appeared to be a close-up of some sort of military guards with down-turned helmets, complete with some sort of tassles and leather chin straps. Upon further inspection, I realized that I wasn't looking at helmets at all; instead, I was looking at the back ends of several horses gathered for a solemn military event; their tails had been outfitted in (and were surrounded by) some special leather finery, only worn on the most important occasions. This photograph was taken on such an occasion.

Suddenly I was inside the picture, and it began to move. The horses belonged to Union Army officers, who sat upon their backs, several in a row. Nearby, to their left, stood the Army regulars, ready to witness the hanging of one of their own. A soldier in a blue uniform was about to be executed for taking part in a plan to steal a great deal of Army supplies -- weapons, ammunition, rations -- and sell them on the black market. The condemned man was standing on the ground; he was to be hung, but not on a platform. The apparatus that would kill him was some sort of a pulley system including ropes coming in from his left and right, which would hoist him in the air while strangling him. The end result would be the same. The man who was to be executed was talkative at first, but as the minutes ticked away, he said, "I just want this to be over." I couldn't watch, and turned away, as did several others. We began to walk back toward a two-story wooden frame house, which was used as some sort of a barrack. As I did so, I could hear a man behind me, screaming: "It isn't right!" I thought it was the accused, but it wasn't. The protests came from a very religious young man in the crowd, who had a Southern accent.

Several soldiers had walked with me back to the house before the deed was done. After the execution, the religious onlooker, a very thin man, and very earnest, came running in. He was agitated, and seemed quite offended that we could be going on with our business as if nothing monumental had happened. I was on the landing leading up to the second floor when he arrived. He called out for all to hear: "A Man Is Dead! Let's Pray For His Soul!"

The next thing I knew, I was in Mom and Dad's kitchen on Dinwiddie Street, and I was bent down, looking for something in the cabinet beneath the sink. My friend Ed B. was there, and he asked me if I'd had any dreams lately. I said, "As a matter of fact, I have..." and began to tell him about this one, when Mom walked into the room. She saw Ed and recognized him, and immediately engaged him in conversation. (They knew each other, so formalities weren't necessary.) Looking at Ed, she said, "My favorite PBS program has just been taken off the air!" We never finished talking about the dream.

Suddenly, I was in a PBS television studio, but it didn't look like any TV studio I'd seen before. It was more like a small, comfortable room, with brick walls. I was one of several people taking a tour of the facilities. A guide explained that this was the set where [magician] Doug Henning used to film his program. All of us instinctively began to imitate him and his big rabbit teeth.


Dream 2: PJs

I was visiting my dad at his apartment in Arlington, and my brother Andrew was there, too. I was about to go out to the store, and wanted to know if anyone needed anything. It was difficult to get Dad's attention. He wasn't watching TV, he just seemed to be staring out into space. I got the impression that he was showing early signs of Alzheimer's Disease. Suddenly he grabbed a piece of paper, and began drawing what I thought was a sport coat. I said, "You want me to get you a suit? What size is it? What twill?" He didn't want a suit; he wanted me to get him some pajamas, and handed the paper to me. I said, "What are the measurements?" He took back the page and wrote some numbers at the neck and on the sleeve. He told me to get some pajamas for Andrew's mother- and father-in-law while I was there, too. At that point I was exasperated. I said, "But what about the measurements for those?"

Next, Dad was in a hospital ward, adjacent to a retirement home. He was wearing a hospital gown, and was surrounded by a group of older men, all dressed similarly. There was one exception. A young man, maybe 30, if that, was there, too. He and Dad were being tested for the same affliction(s), and they had become friends.

Later, I was walking down a hill to the same hospital. I passed the grounds of the senior living center, and saw several people who lived there sitting outside. Some were in chairs, others in wheelchairs. I overheard one caregiver say to one of the residents, "We take care of you on this side [in the retirement community], but we have nothing to do with the people who move over there [to the hospital ward]."

As I walked through the door to the hospital, I said to myself, "I'm 50. Should I reserve a place for myself at the senior living center? Should I move in now?"

*****

Dream 1: The Objector

Last night I was flipping the channels around while waiting for late results of the Pennsylvania Democratic Primary when I came across an episode of Boston Legal. One of the lawyers was standing before the Supreme Court, arguing forcefully against the use of capital punishment in Louisiana for a man with an IQ of 70. He spoke forcefully about the fact that more blacks are executed than any other group, about how the system favors the wealthy over the poor, etc.

This dream may also have been influenced by the song "Tom Dooley" by the Kingston trio, which is about a man who is due to hang the next morning. I played it the other day, and always assumed that it was set in the 19th century. Recently I've made a series of Beatles CDs for a friend at work who is unfamiliar with their music. I've followed up by writing up some bits of information and trivia about the songs. In order to do this, I've read up on some of their recording sessions and lyrics, recently including "A Day in the Life." That could be why, in this dream, "a crowd of people turned away."

Mom always did love PBS, and I enjoyed watching some of the classics on "Masterpiece Theater" with her, such as "Upstairs, Downstairs," "Miss Marple," etc.

Doug Henning never had a PBS show that I can remember, but he did have big rabbit teeth.

On a more serious note, the objector seems to represent the conscience of all of us who turn our backs and go about our business as executions are being carried out on our behalf. Myself included, of course.


Dream 2: PJs

My dad's 82, and we boys are concerned about his health, and about his ability to pay for proper care in the long run. We've been trying to arrange a conference call to talk about how we'll plan for the possibilities. At the same time, I'm increasingly attentive to my own health, and to the long-term financial well-being of my family here in Nashville. My dad's situation is a real eye-opener; in order to have a healthy and happy retirement, we've got to have all of our ducks in a row right now.

My exasperation over Dad not providing the missing sizes for the pajamas is directly related to the fact that my boss is very demanding, yet rarely gives me the details that I need to implement her plans.

The last sentence or two of this dream comes from the fact that Dad's sister moved into a senior living center before she had to, simply because the spaces didn't come up that often, and she wanted to be sure to get one. She'd passed one up the first time, so when she heard about an opening the second time, she took it. She thought ahead.

It's odd that I'd dream that I'm 50; I won't be that age for another 4 years, 3 months and a couple of weeks.

It's odder still that the word "twill" surfaced in this dream. I can't recall ever saying or writing that word, and I certainly never dreamed it before. I'm pretty sure that Mom mentioned it to me on a few occasions, and I filed it away.