What Are You Gonna Do? / Blackjack

Friday night

Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?

I was standing just inside the basement back door to my parents' house when a priest opened the door and came in from outside. He was tall, and appeared to be in his 30s, with a receding hairline and a small mustache; he was dressed all in black. I said, "Hello, Father," but he didn't respond. He walked past me into the "old basement" on my left. Soon he came back out of the old basement; he had changed into a white doctor's outfit. He walked past me again, and into the basement playroom. I turned around so I could watch him through the doorway. He sat down, facing me, giving me a stern look, but still said nothing. I began to get really nervous and agitated. Suddenly he got up and made quick strides right at me. In quick succession I said,

"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"What are you gonna do?"

and then I woke up.

Dream 2: Blackjack

The latest round of my friends' yearly poker tournament was about to begin, and the participants sat down at a long, rectangular table, about the size of an outdoor picnic table. I sat at the far right end, with my back to the viewer's vantage point. My brother Andrew was there, as were my friends Mark F. and Eddie M. I was surprised to see that Mark's wife, Susan, was going to play; she sat across from me. I said, "I'm glad you could join us."

Someone began dealing a hand of Blackjack, and my first two cards totaled 17. (The point of the game was to try to get to 21, or close to it, without going over.) I was trying to decide whether to risk taking more cards when I noticed that several cards on the deck that the dealer was using were turned face-up. I could clearly see three small cards in a row; an Ace, a 2 and another Ace. (Aces could count as 1 or 11 points in this game -- as the highest or lowest card in the deck.)

I frowned and contemplated declaring a misdeal -- always a difficult decision after players have already looked at their cards, and some have begun betting. Eddie knew what I was thinking, and tried to dissuade me. He said, "It wouldn't have mattered anyway," presumably meaning that someone else already had an unbeatable hand.

*****

Dream 1: What Are You Gonna Do?

This is the first nightmare that I've had in awhile. I woke up trembling. My wife and I had been talking last night about the fact that I haven't been to the doctor in a long time. She was encouraging me to schedule a physical and an appointment with the dentist. I'm not really afraid of doctors, but was always afraid of the dentist when I was young, because he never gave me enough Novacaine to dull my pain. I've also always been afraid of authority figures who gave me the silent treatment.

I know that I've seen this priest/doctor before, in an old movie. I suspect that he was the kind doctor who looked out for Kris Kringle in the original version of "Miracle on 34th Street." He wasn't very kind to me.

The phrase "What are you gonna do" is Jersey-speak often heard on "The Sopranos," meaning "What can you do?" Example: "I'm sorry to hear that your mother died." Response: "What are you gonna do?" My usage of the phrase definitely had a different meaning; I wanted to know what that doctor was going to do to me.

Dream 2: Blackjack

I fly up to the D.C. area next Friday, and will play in the second round of this year's poker tournament at Eddie's on Saturday night. Andrew and Mark will be there, but Mark's wife will not; no women have played in the tournament in the past 20 years.

I think this dream means that I feel compelled to be the enforcer of the rule book while some players are lax in that regard. I'm not saying that anyone cheats; only that the rules are not adhered to stringently in all cases. Sometimes players simply don't know what the rules are, or they forget, or there might be a dispute. I try to see that the same rules apply to everyone, so the playing field is even, and no one has an unfair advantage over anyone else. If everybody abided by the rules, I wouldn't have to be the stickler, the enforcer, or the bad guy. I don't like it; it's a chore.

If Jeff had followed the tournament rules that I'd sent him in advance, I wouldn't have had to call him on his rule breaking, and maybe he and I would still be friends. (See the explanation following "Another Day, Another Theater," August 29.) Then again, maybe we wouldn't anyway.