Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Friday, May 18, 2018
A really weird dream
I had the dream, as usual, after being up for awhile and going back to sleep after eating a bowl of cereal.
I was at a high school, I think I was teaching. I can't recall how the dream began and feel that I've forgotten some scenes; but, at some point I left the classroom and students to go look for a bathroom. It seems that all the bathrooms were out of commission or under repair. The first one I went to was occupied by a male. To get to the toilet, one had to climb on some boards, that also functioned as an obstacle, to get to a raised level where there was one toilet. I decided it would be too difficult to do all of this, so I continued looking. Another bathroom had stalls that were not private and also required the user to put some kind of chemical underneath a toilet contraption in order for it to work. I opted out of that one, too. Then, I was walking around in my underwear looking for my clothes, another recurring anxiety theme. I don't think I ever found a toilet I could use or my clothes, but the dream transitioned into a science fiction/horror story where none of that mattered. Machines with AI were now running amok and threatening to take over the world, as has been predicted and depicted in films like "The Matrix." I decided to flee to a remote area where there would be temporary safety. I saw images of some young men in a boat with a big tool shaped somewhat like a squid. They were chasing a woman in the water, almost like a mermaid who could swim very fast. I was thinking the tool was dangerous to the boys in the boat; but, it looked like they would catch the mermaid and assault her with the strange tool. However, she outwitted them by making a sudden turn, leading the boat crashed into a cliff wall that rose from the sea and sink. Other mechanical catastrophes were happening all around. Then, I was at the school with a group of male students. I had the familiar experience of an LSD "freakout" where it suddenly became evident everything was an illusion that was melting away to reveal... what? On LSD, I thought I was in Hell. In this dream, however, I thought to myself 'I'll just have to wait and see what happens.' I felt like it could all end and I would be ok. At that point, I awoke and immediately realize it was a dream. I was a little relieved but not really frightened or disoriented as sometimes is the case after a nightmarish dream of this sort.
I was at a high school, I think I was teaching. I can't recall how the dream began and feel that I've forgotten some scenes; but, at some point I left the classroom and students to go look for a bathroom. It seems that all the bathrooms were out of commission or under repair. The first one I went to was occupied by a male. To get to the toilet, one had to climb on some boards, that also functioned as an obstacle, to get to a raised level where there was one toilet. I decided it would be too difficult to do all of this, so I continued looking. Another bathroom had stalls that were not private and also required the user to put some kind of chemical underneath a toilet contraption in order for it to work. I opted out of that one, too. Then, I was walking around in my underwear looking for my clothes, another recurring anxiety theme. I don't think I ever found a toilet I could use or my clothes, but the dream transitioned into a science fiction/horror story where none of that mattered. Machines with AI were now running amok and threatening to take over the world, as has been predicted and depicted in films like "The Matrix." I decided to flee to a remote area where there would be temporary safety. I saw images of some young men in a boat with a big tool shaped somewhat like a squid. They were chasing a woman in the water, almost like a mermaid who could swim very fast. I was thinking the tool was dangerous to the boys in the boat; but, it looked like they would catch the mermaid and assault her with the strange tool. However, she outwitted them by making a sudden turn, leading the boat crashed into a cliff wall that rose from the sea and sink. Other mechanical catastrophes were happening all around. Then, I was at the school with a group of male students. I had the familiar experience of an LSD "freakout" where it suddenly became evident everything was an illusion that was melting away to reveal... what? On LSD, I thought I was in Hell. In this dream, however, I thought to myself 'I'll just have to wait and see what happens.' I felt like it could all end and I would be ok. At that point, I awoke and immediately realize it was a dream. I was a little relieved but not really frightened or disoriented as sometimes is the case after a nightmarish dream of this sort.
Wednesday, May 16, 2018
Remembering Andy Johnson
"For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required." Luke 12:48 (King James Version)
Those who didn't know Andy personally will remember him as one of the greatest athletes to emerge from Athens, Georgia and go on to star at the collegiate and professional levels. Andy was given much in the way of athleticism and intelligence and much was expected of him on the baseball diamond and football gridiron from a very early age.
Those of us who had a personal connection knew another Andy, someone whose virtuous humanity shone just as brightly as his achievements in sports. Andy was an Old School hero, the kind who always smiled and always wore a letterman's jacket. He and I graduated from Athens High School with the Class of 1970. By that time, he was already a celebrity. Everyone knew he would go on to sports stardom. We had both attended the YMCA in elementary and middle school. Andy was by far the best athlete at the Y, while I was a 3rd or 4th stringer in all the sports. In football, Andy was, of course, the QB, while I played tackle, for which I was undersized. I did enjoy playing defense and, if I'm not imagining things, I remember managing to tackle Andy in the backfield one of the few times I played against him. In my mind, I see and hear him laughing and congratulating me. If true, my sporting career went downhill from there.
Be that as it may, my clearest early recollection is watching Andy play shortstop in a Little League game. In the field, he had the grace and confidence and quickness of a cat, a big intimidating one, like, say, a jaguar. He hit a towering home run in the same game, well over the centerfield fence. Andy was like Achilles or LeBron, a superhuman matching up against mere mortals.
As time went on, I watched his football heroics from the stands on many occasions at high school and UGA games. I've heard it said Andy would have preferred a career in baseball but respected his father's wish for him to favor football. This would be typical of the Andy Johnson I knew, always polite and respectful of others, the epitome of the good son. Not that we were at all close in our young days- our lives were on very different tracks and I only observed Andy from a distance. Andy was the innest of the in crowd while I gravitated toward the disreputable kids with long hair who hung out next to the auditorium before the first bell rang.
As everyone expected, Andy starred in football at UGA and later with the New England Patriots; and, I followed his career as a fan. I recall reading some years back that he had been inducted into the Patriots Hall of Fame. I had moved away from Athens by the time Andy retired from the pros and came back to our hometown. I like to attend our Class of '70 reunions, usually held every 5 years, and those were the only times I ran into Andy for a long stretch of time. What I remember about that is, times Andy approached me and initiated a conversation in which he actually seemed to like and take an interest in me. To be honest, it was almost shocking, even in recent encounters, because Andy had always been a larger-than-life celebrity to me. I scarcely thought he had any reason to remember me at all.
I last saw Andy at an informal Medicare seminar Tom Hodgson, a mutual friend, hosted in 2017 as our classmates were turning 65. I could see Andy was not in good health but I wouldn't have known from his demeanor. The conversation we had there was our last and best. I finally took it in that he was not someone out of a comic book or feel-good movie: Andy was, like me, a real person and his interest was sincere. But it's still stunning.
Reflecting on all of this, I can't help but view Andy in a Christian perspective. He spoke to me as if I were the most important person in the world, the way the Gospels show Jesus speaking to each person, from the lowest to the highest. I don't know about Andy's personal faith but I have to believe it ran as deep as the still waters. In spite of his immense talent, his lifelong celebrity, his great success, his universal popularity, Andy was a humble and kind man who treated every person he encountered with sincere interest and respect. From my experience, Andy deserves the highest praise for the example he gave in the way he lived his life. I will hold on to my dubious image of him laughing and congratulating me on tackling him for a loss, and I'll reply with this:
"Well done, Andy, thou good and faithful servant."
Owen Scott, III
Baton Rouge
May 16, 2018
Those of us who had a personal connection knew another Andy, someone whose virtuous humanity shone just as brightly as his achievements in sports. Andy was an Old School hero, the kind who always smiled and always wore a letterman's jacket. He and I graduated from Athens High School with the Class of 1970. By that time, he was already a celebrity. Everyone knew he would go on to sports stardom. We had both attended the YMCA in elementary and middle school. Andy was by far the best athlete at the Y, while I was a 3rd or 4th stringer in all the sports. In football, Andy was, of course, the QB, while I played tackle, for which I was undersized. I did enjoy playing defense and, if I'm not imagining things, I remember managing to tackle Andy in the backfield one of the few times I played against him. In my mind, I see and hear him laughing and congratulating me. If true, my sporting career went downhill from there.
Be that as it may, my clearest early recollection is watching Andy play shortstop in a Little League game. In the field, he had the grace and confidence and quickness of a cat, a big intimidating one, like, say, a jaguar. He hit a towering home run in the same game, well over the centerfield fence. Andy was like Achilles or LeBron, a superhuman matching up against mere mortals.
As time went on, I watched his football heroics from the stands on many occasions at high school and UGA games. I've heard it said Andy would have preferred a career in baseball but respected his father's wish for him to favor football. This would be typical of the Andy Johnson I knew, always polite and respectful of others, the epitome of the good son. Not that we were at all close in our young days- our lives were on very different tracks and I only observed Andy from a distance. Andy was the innest of the in crowd while I gravitated toward the disreputable kids with long hair who hung out next to the auditorium before the first bell rang.
As everyone expected, Andy starred in football at UGA and later with the New England Patriots; and, I followed his career as a fan. I recall reading some years back that he had been inducted into the Patriots Hall of Fame. I had moved away from Athens by the time Andy retired from the pros and came back to our hometown. I like to attend our Class of '70 reunions, usually held every 5 years, and those were the only times I ran into Andy for a long stretch of time. What I remember about that is, times Andy approached me and initiated a conversation in which he actually seemed to like and take an interest in me. To be honest, it was almost shocking, even in recent encounters, because Andy had always been a larger-than-life celebrity to me. I scarcely thought he had any reason to remember me at all.
I last saw Andy at an informal Medicare seminar Tom Hodgson, a mutual friend, hosted in 2017 as our classmates were turning 65. I could see Andy was not in good health but I wouldn't have known from his demeanor. The conversation we had there was our last and best. I finally took it in that he was not someone out of a comic book or feel-good movie: Andy was, like me, a real person and his interest was sincere. But it's still stunning.
Reflecting on all of this, I can't help but view Andy in a Christian perspective. He spoke to me as if I were the most important person in the world, the way the Gospels show Jesus speaking to each person, from the lowest to the highest. I don't know about Andy's personal faith but I have to believe it ran as deep as the still waters. In spite of his immense talent, his lifelong celebrity, his great success, his universal popularity, Andy was a humble and kind man who treated every person he encountered with sincere interest and respect. From my experience, Andy deserves the highest praise for the example he gave in the way he lived his life. I will hold on to my dubious image of him laughing and congratulating me on tackling him for a loss, and I'll reply with this:
"Well done, Andy, thou good and faithful servant."
Owen Scott, III
Baton Rouge
May 16, 2018
Saturday, May 5, 2018
I woke from a dream at 4:45am
I was at our old home in Athens. I had gone downstairs to go to sleep. Mom was upstairs. I was thinking how she was doing so much better than when she was near death awhile back. I heard her making noise upstairs, probably having gotten up to use the bathroom, and I had the desire to go up and tell her Good night, Mom, I love you. But somehow it was a struggle to get all the way up the stairs. I was stuck trying to pull myself up holding onto the top stair (this scene, which is difficult to visualize now that I'm awake, is reminiscent thematically of perhaps the earliest dream I can remember, one in which a tornado was pulling me up into it and I was holding onto the stairs trying not to be swept away). I finally made it and walked toward Mom's bedroom at the end of the hall. Instead of Mom, a saw a young white couple in the bathroom. The young woman, who might have been one of Mary Lou's grad students, was using the toilet and the young man was standing near the door. They looked surprised and embarrassed. You really needed to go? I asked rhetorically. Yes, she nodded.
It took me a minute to remember the dream after I awoke.
The dream is the latest in a series where Mom or Dad or in one case, Grandpapa, are precariously old but still alive. In another recent dream, Dad was alive and in the dream I knew he had died. I realized it made no sense that he was living but he was. What's with this recurring theme? I often say people live on in our hearts. That's certainly true for Mom and Dad... and Grandpapa and everyone else who has played a meaningful role in my life and is no longer with us.
It is now one hour later, 5:45am. Today is Lauren Scott's birthday- she's 31 years old. Before I wrote down the dream I sent her an ecard from Blue Mountain.
It took me a minute to remember the dream after I awoke.
The dream is the latest in a series where Mom or Dad or in one case, Grandpapa, are precariously old but still alive. In another recent dream, Dad was alive and in the dream I knew he had died. I realized it made no sense that he was living but he was. What's with this recurring theme? I often say people live on in our hearts. That's certainly true for Mom and Dad... and Grandpapa and everyone else who has played a meaningful role in my life and is no longer with us.
It is now one hour later, 5:45am. Today is Lauren Scott's birthday- she's 31 years old. Before I wrote down the dream I sent her an ecard from Blue Mountain.
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
I'm not keeping up with this blog very well!
I continue to have interesting and surprising dreams; I've been writing and recording songs again; I've had a lovely conversation going on Facebook with old girlfriend and current friend, GA; and, Maureen and Cody became engaged on Friday when Cody arranged a surprise proposal party at our house attended by numerous significant people in both of their lives.
One dream involved going to a high school to teach and being informed when I arrived I would be teaching a seminar about China with six students and a co-teacher. I was comfortable with the idea. A teacher at the school helped me find the seminar room at the end of a hall and we began the first meeting. However, another group of students wearing Oklahoma sweatshirts was looking down from a sort of balcony overlooking our classroom. These people disrupted our meeting by talking and laughing. I became angry and told them they were being rude. They refused to stop making noise and I left the class to find an administrator who would support me in reprimanding them.
Another dream involved climbing a precarious ladder to get to the top of a very tall tower in Chicago that had a small radio station on top. This exercise was intended to be an exposure treatment for people with fear of heights. I made it to the top and was talking to the staff of the station (which resembled a fire tower). The tower was swaying in the wind causing me to feel very uneasy and to fear the tower would collapse. At some point, I dropped my last Adderall capsule and it fell through the grating on the floor and continued to, I suppose, the ground. It occurred to me I was unlikely to find it when I got back to ground level.
One dream involved going to a high school to teach and being informed when I arrived I would be teaching a seminar about China with six students and a co-teacher. I was comfortable with the idea. A teacher at the school helped me find the seminar room at the end of a hall and we began the first meeting. However, another group of students wearing Oklahoma sweatshirts was looking down from a sort of balcony overlooking our classroom. These people disrupted our meeting by talking and laughing. I became angry and told them they were being rude. They refused to stop making noise and I left the class to find an administrator who would support me in reprimanding them.
Another dream involved climbing a precarious ladder to get to the top of a very tall tower in Chicago that had a small radio station on top. This exercise was intended to be an exposure treatment for people with fear of heights. I made it to the top and was talking to the staff of the station (which resembled a fire tower). The tower was swaying in the wind causing me to feel very uneasy and to fear the tower would collapse. At some point, I dropped my last Adderall capsule and it fell through the grating on the floor and continued to, I suppose, the ground. It occurred to me I was unlikely to find it when I got back to ground level.
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