Do Dreams Mean Anything?

Some of us remember our dreams when we wake up, and we have heard what others say about those dreams.  However, like the Moody Blues, we decide…

You get the idea.  A therapist or an enthusiastic acquaintance will try to interpret, but there’s no guarantee that person’s conclusion will be any more accurate than yours.

Last night I dreamt I was watching a graffitist do his thing — with a manual typewriter.  I think it was an old Underwood.  He was actually tapping away on the keys, and his message was appearing on a wall. The images kept changing, though.  Part of the time it was text, but then it would change to pictures.  Then back to text.  My dreams can be vivid, and last night I swore there was glitter on the wall.

I could think of interpretations all day long.  An obsolete typewriter doing something worthy of a futuristic sci fi novel is fair game for almost any theory.

Last night’s dream was weird, but I don’t think it was unique.  Most people are old enough to remember when we needed the post office to send a letter.  Although we don’t want to admit it, we still need the post office, and there’s finally an admission that the post office needs us.  The U.S.P.S. is in bad shape, mainly because of e-mail and electronic subscriptions.  The post office can also credit some of its own improvements to modern technology, but in the long run technology is working against the postal service the same way it worked against the typewriter.

The downside of progress is we lose necessary things that fall from favor.

We can probably do without graffiti, but I understand Keith Haring started his painting career as a graffitist.  There were arguments against the way he put his work on the map (Oh, crap.  Did I actually write that?), but he left a beautiful legacy which still raises money for nonprofits.

Okay, graffiti isn’t going to fizzle out altogether, even if New York City’s MTA has gotten a handle on it.  Some of the practitioners have talent, but more than anything illegal writing and drawing are forms of adolescent rebellion, like playing with dangerous fireworks or using blue language in church.  Most of the time, calling vandalism art just puts lipstick on a pig.  However, if any of Keith Haring’s subway work is still intact, I’d like to see it up close sometime.

Maybe the references to Keith Haring are digressions, and maybe not.  Well, they probably are.

While we’re on the subject of progress in the developing world, just now I thought of a question:  Didn’t the outhouse get phased out at about the same time as the butter churn?

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