Blue_Opossum

Night of April 10, 2017. Monday.



I am someone else and connected to the sales or delivery of a centrifuge. Knowing its overall appearance, it is not that hard to associate it with a poker chip carousel. There is ambiguity over time, in fact, upon deciding what it really is or what is really going on. The first scene is of men in white lab coats using the centrifuge. Still, cowboys from another time gather, apparently in a tavern. For a moment, a cowboy seems to be wearing a lab coat over his trail-worn clothes.

It is a questionable situation. There are about five cowboys sitting at a round wooden table playing poker in an old west environment - yet these same men are also somehow simultaneously standing outside in the street, but it can not be discerned if they are planning mischief (either inside or outside) or simply involved in social events with other residents. Only mild anticipation ensues. It seems to be morning. Birds are singing outside beyond the batwing doors.

Morning of April 10, 2017. Monday.



I am aware that I will be doing some sort of test or writing assignment (as apparently I am still in school) and I go into a store to buy a pencil. The cashier is Patrick S, my foreman (from Northern Engraving) who shot himself years ago.

There are three rectangular display wells on one side (in a connected sequence), with at least the middle one having several pencils in various conditions. I pick out a new yellow pencil that is not sharpened and which is featureless at both ends (that is, with no eraser on either end). I am thinking that there may not be a way to sharpen it (after being back in the classroom) in order to do my work. The cashier tells me that it is ten cents. As I pay him, I see that the pencil is now sharpened but is barely long enough to hold onto but also has an eraser. It seems odd but I do not put it back. The lead (graphite) is somewhat blunt and partly covered by the wood as well. Still, I do not complain (as I may be able to write with it as is) and take it with me back to the unfamiliar school. (I have a brief thought that the cashier might say something about the condition of the pencil but he does not.)

Back in the classroom, I see that there are already suitable sharpened pencils for the students, one near each empty seat, so I take one to use as I sit down. The teacher sits at my table, directly across from me. Oddly, he is also Patrick S (though implied to be a different person than the cashier). I do not consciously notice this impossibility. We each have some sort of workbook. The teacher (not having the answer at hand) is also to do the work at the same time as the students. He tells us that the work is on page 164. Even though we all go to page 164 in our own copy of the book, I notice that the number is 154 when looking later. (Still, I stay on that page.)

The task involves finishing a logic puzzle with a fishing theme. The entire page is filled with clues in the form of sentences, yet none of them relate directly to the solution other than one of the last clues (second or third from the bottom), which mentions catfish, largemouth bass, smallmouth bass, and a weight value (of the catfish). The entire table (with at least six events, perhaps eight) is apparently to have (at least) the person’s name, the kind of fish they caught, its weight, and the location it was caught. I look it over and find it rather strange. There are no names of people or places that I can discern in the clues so how would one be able to complete the table?

The teacher cheerfully mentions to me that there is more on other pages. I notice a couple blank tables on the next page but I do not know if it relates to the task at hand. Perhaps he means that I can do a different puzzle on one of the other pages, but I do not say anything and mostly regard the fishing-themed one.

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What am I "fishing for" here? My transient temporary dream self (a different incarnation in each dream, often which has no association with current conscious self identity), also known as the "personified subconscious", does not really exist, thus I am in the puzzled state (which does not occur in all dreams), seeking the return to my conscious self identity (otherwise known as waking up from sleep, literally). The part where the pencil changes has the essence of non-lucid dream control.

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