Dream of:
07 May 1982 "Practical Business Man"I was in the House in Patriot, watching a show on television. At a scene in an airport, the camera was placed behind a desk at which a woman was selling airplane tickets. Someone had left a brick with an attached note lying on the counter. On the side of the brick was an electronic device. The woman at the counter picked up the note and read it just as a Japanese man walked up to the counter, looked at the brick and the device on it, and mouthed the words to the woman, "Is that a bomb?"
When the woman nodded affirmatively, the man backed up and ran away as fast as he could. As the woman walked away, the camera focused on her face—she appeared to be searching for someone to diffuse the bomb.
As the story continued, the brick turned out not to actually be a bomb—but the device attached to the brick could set off a bomb somewhere else.
When disturbances apparently broke out at the same time at four different places in the airport, the camera shifted to another scene. Two men with guns were behind a car, shooting at policemen near some airplanes. (I wondered if the men were there to divert the attention of the police from the bomb.) One policeman said the men were using special bullets which would explode and send off shrapnel in all directions when they hit.
A fellow named Reese (one of my classmates from law school) was one of the policemen. He and some other policemen circled around to a wall about five meters high and directly behind the two men with guns. Reese and two other policemen climbed the wall and stood on top of it. The two gunmen saw the policemen on the wall too late, and the policemen began shooting down at the gunmen. The gunmen stood still for a moment, then fell over, apparently dead.
Other policemen on the ground walked up to the two gunmen. They found another man there with them, who was apparently a policeman. He had also been shot, but wasn't yet dead. One of the other policeman recognized his dying comrade and said, "I'll see to it that your body's taken care of."
The man then died.
A man walked into the room where I was watching the television—he wanted to talk with me about a legal problem which he was having. Apparently, someone was now in possession of his farm land and the person in possession was apparently going to plow up the land. The man talking to me had already planted a crop, perhaps soy beans, on the land, and he didn't want the crop plowed up. He wanted me to tell him what he could do about it.
My father was also in the room. He, the man and I walked outside and boarded a car, intending to go and look at the land. We rode off and when we arrived at the land, the man stepped out of the car and plucked up one of the plants which he had planted. It looked like a small nut. He handed it to me and I crushed it; inside it looked like peanuts. I threw it back down on the ground.
I tried to think of what the law would say about the matter. Would the person in possession be able to plow up the nuts?
My father and I left and drove around. It was beginning to get cloudy. We passed a creek where some people were fishing. I had the feeling my father would also like to do some fishing. He wanted me to holler and see if the people were catching anything. Finally, we drove on and returned to the House in Patriot.
After we had walked inside the House, my father wanted to lie down in the bed for a while, and he wanted me to lie down with him. We both lay down and he put his arm around me. My father said he would like to buy a
cow. I asked him why, and he said he wanted to start milking it. I asked him where he was going to keep it, and he said he would keep it in back of the House in Patriot. I thought to myself that milking a cow every day would become tiresome, and I wondered just how long he would continue. He asked me if I knew anyone who had a truck. I told him Mr. Swiver (a neighbor who lived across the street) had a pickup truck which he (my father) might be able to borrow. I suggested that my father might have to pay something for rent.When my father stood up from the bed and looked across the street, I asked him if the truck were there, and he answered, "Yea."
He slid back into the bed and said using the Swivers' truck would present a problem, because he didn't think the Swivers wanted any cows brought into Patriot, and that they probably wouldn't rent the truck to him to haul in cattle.
My father wanted me to stay there with him, but I finally got restless and told him I had to get up. He acted disappointed, but I didn't want to stay there. I walked into the next room, still tired, wanting to lie down. I just wanted to be by myself and not lie down with my father.
Instead of lying down, however, I called up one of my old teachers on the phone. When she came on the phone, she seemed a bit like Mrs. Lewis (my second grade teacher), but also like Miss Wolfe (my junior high math teacher). I told her I was in law school, but that I was thinking about quitting for a while and doing something else. I talked to her for a few more minutes, then hung up.
My father walked into the room and we walked outside together. We now seemed to be in Portsmouth instead of Patriot. We headed to a house on Fourth Street in Portsmouth, where I had rented a sparsely furnished room. I had only rented the room for a week, and the woman from whom I had rented the room had asked me about my plans for the future. I had told her I didn't know. I might start looking for a more permanent place, or I might just stay right there. She had told me I could stay there as long as I wanted. I had told her I was on a break from law school, and I didn't know whether I was going to return to law school.
When my father and I reached the house, before we went inside, I noticed that some law students had shown up in front of the house, and that Morrison (one of my law school professors) had started giving a lecture right in front of the house. My father decided to sit in on the class. As I watched, Morrison asked the students questions, but I didn't think he was going to ask me any. I knew I hadn't read the material and I wouldn't be able to answer his questions.
Someone asked my father a question, and my father began talking about paying taxes, and how taxes were too high. He also spoke of advertising costs, saying advertising cost about $200. One law student blurted out, "That doesn't hurt anybody."
My father responded, "Yea, that's absolutely right."
Everyone seemed to agree with everything my father said. He spoke quite eloquently as he continued talking, and he had the attention of everyone present. I stood to the side and listened to him. I was rather proud of him. I hadn't realized he could talk that way. He came across as a practical business man who had good common sense. Even though he didn't know the technicalities of the law, he still knew the basic fundamentals and how to apply them to practical situations. The other students were quite interested in what he had to say.
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