Unlike the previous one, this morning’s dream was explicit and positive.
I was at some kind of party. An older Jewish professor started haranguing me, trying to persuade me to attend Yom Kippur in Virginia Beach (?????) so I would meet a nice Jewish girl and become normal. He got clumsily violent, pushing and prodding me. I pushed back and said: “If I was younger I might want to go there. But I’m 73 now. I’m happy with my narrow little life, I’ve got it set up to suit me, and I wouldn’t go to Virginia Beach under any circumstances.”
Message of courage, no interpretation needed! Well, I’m 75 now, but two years behind is better than the usual dream standard of 20 years behind.
The prof also needs no interpretation. He’s George Herman, an arrogant dismissive prof at Bowling Green. I knew his kids and sometimes attended the Official Hippie Parties that the Hermans conducted in their Official Basement Rumpus Room, Designed To Co-opt The Misguided Habits Of Our Wayward Youths. Everything was Official with George Herman. He was King In His House.
Polistra's Mill 