I dreamt that my pre-teen (as he was once) neighbour, Garret, came over to my garden to kick football. He would try to score a goal and I would save. He shot magnificently and I saved magnificently, diving gracefully and catching the ball in mid air.
His father, Emmet, was incredulous; he did not believe his son could kick so well, or need to transfer to a real soccer park to develop his skill.
More importantly, in that dream world, I could get nobody to discuss with me what energy the ball must contain as it travelled through the air; what energy was in Garret's kick and how; what percentage of the kick's energy was transferred to the ball; what percentage of the ball's energy would be lost between the kick and the save; how my leaping energy was generated; how all this energy was brought back to zero as I lay on the ground with the ball in my arms.
The dream reached its conclusion with a sudden image of the crucified Jesus, not in a hanging pose, but a leaping pose, as He stretched out to save (the ball). Most striking in His dark figure were the crescent-moon shaped whites of His eyes under the black pupil-iris balls of His eyes, (with a hint of green through the irises).
The dream undoubtedly rises out of my pondering on a tentative book in my head, titled "Mathness," which questíons some mad math theories, sch as non-computable numbers, and a number-line divided into a continuum of multiple Infinities of points. (A line can't divide into points, only segments, and conclusions drawn from this false basis must be suspect).
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