Three Dreams of Eighty

 I had  three strange dreams last night. The facts that I was not dream-watching and remember the three dreams indicates that I woke up after each dream before falling back to sleep again.

The Swimming Pool

In the first dream, I dreamt that I was entering a swimming pool. A voice over the public address system said, "All swim to the Balla Rushda, join hands and swim in line."

I did not know what the "Balla Rushda" was, but swam to the point that others were heading for. I saw a contradiction in the instruction to "join hands and swim in line," but had learned in life, when given confusing instructions to "follow the instructions," whereupon all would usually become clear in the execution.

When I reached the place the swimmers were heading for, I found a school-mate of the OCS "class of 61" (i.e., our class that graduated from secondary school in 1961), was positioned there, shaking hands with all the swimmers as they arrived, and then sending them, one after the other, in a particular direction. I followed suit and soon found myself swimming alone in a large pool. My nose was above water and I found that I could swim effortlessly along, breathing as I went, just as if walking. The water was at body temperature, so I could swim for miles without tiring or getting out of breath.

The Retirement Dance

In the next dream, I found myself with the surviving members of the Class of 61, about a dozen of us. We were in a theatre, in a preparation room behind the stage and were to prepare to dance out onto the stage in a troop to celebrate our retirement.

I was afraid my, and our, lack of stamina, strength and skill, would make a hames of the demonstration, and considered what steps could I, in fact, perform. Some simple, easy, steps would do it. So, I said, "Stomp, stomp, Step a Little; Stomp, stomp, Step a Little," and stomped and stepped forward in rhythm with the words.

Dr. Oliver McHugh, my former GP, and my successor as Chairman of Claremont Residents Association, a long time ago, was in charge of the band and the choir. He raised his two batons, and said, "Listen: Where, o Where, is Pamela Farrell," in the same rhythm as my "Stomp, o Stomp, and Step a Little." Now, when I was chairman of the Residents Association back in 1980/ 81, I had asked a local musician to organise a concert of local talent as part of our summer Festival, and he had organised a brilliant variety troop made up of our beautiful young mothers, who had gone on to win awards in several competitions. Pamela Farrell was one of these.

The band played and the choir sang, and repeated over and over, "Where, o Where, is Pamela Farrell," and the Class of 61, a troop of eighty year olds, none of them, I can tell you, as elegant or beautiful as the young Pamela Farrell, stomped, stomped and stepped a little, out on the stage to the applause of the audience.

The House Full of Children

I dreamt I was in my own house.

I went into the kitchen, but it was full of children, sitting at the breakfast table and up at the counter. So, I headed for the front room, but another troop of children were there, ensconced and feeding.

I went into the middle room, but could not negotiate myself through the children feasting there.

"Krunchie," said one of the kids, "That was a very long speech you gave last night."

"I gave a speech last night?" I asked.

"Yes," said a senior child, "You were very drunk and gave a long speech."

"Oh!" I said, "and what did I talk about."

"You talked about corporal punishment, about punishing the down-trodden." 

Then I woke up. 

Interpretation

These three dreams occurred  on the eve of my eightieth birthday, and all focused on the theme of "being eighty."

The Swimming Pool dwelt on the importance of keeping fit and active by swimming or walking "miles."

The Retirement Dance suggested that though our beauty "is adorned with age," as James Joyce might say, we eighty year olds can still put on a performance, if suitably tailored to our ability. Pamela Farrell was chosen as a representative of the young and beautiful because her name matched the rhythm of my "Stomp, Stomp, Step a Little," and because, unlike other members of the variety troop of 1981, she had left Claremont soon afterwards, while most of the other members had remained to grow older in the community. The Dream-master borrowed the word "Stomp" from my tune "Lakota Stomp."

The House Full of Children illustrated how children of the present generation are positive, outspoken and opinionated, whereas my generation was repressed and inhibited.