Free Energy

 I dreamt that Philomena next door was in our house chatting with my wife (as neighbours often do).

When Phil mentioned that her mobile phone had become very hot in her pocket, I decided to insert my male, scientific, view-point into the conversation.

"Well," I said, "your phone works, of course, off microwaves. Microwaves are a form of energy, and often convert into heat. They can also be converted, do you know, into electricity.

"Over a hundred years ago, in fact, Nikola Tesla erected a very tall aerial in America to transmit electricity by microwaves across the Atlantic."

"But it didn't work, did it?" said Phil.

"O yes, it did," said I. "It worked until his bank pulled the plug on the finance. When the banker heard Nikola say he would deliver free electricity to Africa, the bank withdrew the money and the project stopped. The banker wanted to make millions, not give stuff away for free. 

"In fact, they are now doing that very thing in Africa. In Nairobi, where my sister works, the slum-dwellers all have smart-phones, but they don't have electricity; so the phone companies provide them with chargers that charge their phones from the microwaves transmitted through the air.

"So, you could set up a receiver in your garden to receive microwaves and convert them into electricity."

"So, I would have to set up a big tall Antenna in my garden," said Phil.

"O No," I said. "The transmitter must be a shaft, a tall aerial, but the receptor should be a bowl-shaped receiver."

"Well," said Phil, "I have a very large Pyrex bowl that I never use, because it is far too big for anything. We could use that."

"I was really thinking of something larger still, but we could use your Pyrex bowl as a proto-type."

So, next thing, Philomena and I were constructing a microwave receiver from her Pyrex bowl. I bored a hold in the bottom of the bowl, because it would be outside and we did not want it to fill with water. Next, I pasted the outside with glue and wound yards and yards of copper wire round and round the bowl, making it into a great bowl-shaped coil.  

I tested it with a sensitive voltmeter, and found that there was, indeed, a difference in potential between the start and end points of the coil. Then we attached the extremities to a direct-current battery-charger and commenced to charge batteries using our device. (All battery-chargers are direct current, but the commercial ones incorporate a device to convert DC to AC). 

All this happened in the dream, of course, not in reality.

Computer island

 I dreamt I went to stay on an island off the west coast of Ireland where, in the dream, my sister had gone to do a computer course. This was an unusual computer course set up by an American, from Silicon Valley, California, who had gone to live on the island, where he "worked from home" providing software to client companies in America. His specialty was motion, and his course was based on the innovations he had developed.

I, on the other hand, was only concerned in capturing the essence of the island in a painting. 

My sister persuaded me, nevertheless, to attend at one of the computer classes. To my surprise, I was subjected to a long and penetrating interview by the American, where I exercised considerable restraint in not answering, "mind your own business."

Following the interview, the American said to the gathering, inter alia, 

"Krunchie will be assigned to programming the movement of the currach in the sea environment," which sounded to me more like a life-time commitment than a casual few days course. I did not, in other words feel committed to the task. (A "Currach" is a small sea-worthy boat used by fishermen on the west coast of Ireland).

Next, the American had me watch several videos describing the mathematics of movement, in particular, the mathematics of helicopter and drone movements. I was dismayed and perplexed at the task, but he said, 

"You don't have to master this maths. That has already been done by others who spent lifetimes on it. What we have to do is lift the appropriate bits into our programs."

So next, I had to view videos of currachs traversing the choppy waters off the west of Ireland, and spend a day physically learning how to manipulate a currach. 

Then I was left to the task of describing the movements of the currach in the American's software. Well, I can tell you I was not going to put my heart and soul into it, but lifted the existing movement software from other places, dumped the results on my master and "left the building."

Word came to me that the American was surprised with the speed of my response and delighted with the quality of my work.

I concentrated on my painting project, making many sketches of the island, the island people,  the "intruders." Myself in pensive mood, currachs in the water, and so on.

My sister viewed my work, but said,

"Your motive is not really to describe the island, or the people, but to express the loneliness, the isolation, in fact the contented loneliness in your heart."

Suddenly I understood the picture I needed to paint. I set up a very large canvas, five foot by four foot, and, with broad strokes, quickly painted a scene: a light, creamy-grey sky with broad streaks of light blue, a grey-green island with blotches of creamy-grey rocks and brighter green grassy patches, and, at the bottom, a grey-green sea with strips of white foam. The reason for the large canvas was that the human figure in the middle of the scene could be presented fully and not just as a blob. It is mainly the figure that suggested the "contented loneliness." While no attempt was made to make it a sel-portrait, the commentators quickly identified me in the figure.