Dream of: 13 June 1996 "Who Took The Picture?"
I was sitting in a classroom with perhaps twenty women (probably in their 40s). From my perspective, I was sitting in the front row on the right corner.
We had all been watching a movie which was just about to end. As I had watched, I had become aware that the movie was a mystery, and at the end, the students were supposed to solve the mystery.
The last part of the movie was actually a scene there in the classroom, as if someone with a camera was filming right there. The camera was directed toward a cardboard box sitting in the corner where I was sitting. I picked up the box and held it in the air so that a better shot could be taken of the box.
At first I didn't see anything of particular significance on the box, but then I noticed, on the side of the box - about thirty centimeters high and sixty centimeters wide - a painting or a drawing. The painting had been made with wide brush strokes, such as a child might make, and was so abstract, I had to focus to make any sense out of it, and even then it was not entirely clear. The painting appeared to be of a little girl. The body from the neck down was simply a triangle with the apex at the neck and the base around the areas of the knees, so that it looked like a flared-out dress. The head of the girl however was perhaps the strangest thing, for instead of standing straight up vertically, the head was bent over horizontally at the apex of the triangle. Of course the head was not really a head, but just a bunch of wild brush strokes. Only with the aid of my imagination was I able to determine that it was a head and that the whole painting was of a little girl.
The movie I was watching ended with the picture on the box. I now knew that the solution of the mystery movie had something to do with the painting, but it was still unclear to me what it meant. Suddenly someone pointed out a piece of paper which was hanging on the wall in front of the room. How surprised I was to see that on the piece of paper was a painting which was identical to the one on the side of the box. It simply amazed me that the two paintings appeared to be the same. It seemed clear to me that these two paintings were a vital clue to the solution of the mystery movie, and my mind was racing, trying to figure out what the meaning was.
As the class ended and people began rising to leave, I suddenly knew – I knew the answer to the movie. And it looked as if I were the only person who had figured it out. I wanted to tell someone that I knew what the answer was, but looking around the room, I saw no one I recognized, except Mary, a girl who had been a classmate in junior high school and high school, but whom I had never known well or paid much attention to. I headed toward here, anxious to at least tell someone that I knew the answer.
Although the answer wasn't precisely clear in my mind, I knew it had to do with all the poor neglected children in the world, especially inner city children, and how we never spend enough time with them. Something in the paintings had told me this, something about the way the little girl looked in the paintings. Somehow I also knew that the two pictures – the one on the box and the one on the wall – had been painted by the same person, and that the solution of the mystery – neglected children – depended on bringing the two pictures together and comparing them.
As I headed toward Mary, people were getting into my way and blocking my path. When a nun – only about one and two-thirds meters tall and completely dressed in black with a black shawl over her head – stepped in front of me with her back to me, I rudely pushed her aside.
I was in a hurry to reach Mary, to tell someone that I knew the answer to the mystery, that we don't spend enough time with neglected children. Suddenly, however, I stopped in my tracks. Looking back at the wall, I was astounded to see that the picture hanging on the wall had disappeared. Befuddled, I stammered out, "Who took the picture?"
I was abashed because I knew that it was necessary for me to have both pictures before I could explain the solution to the mystery, and that without both pictures, I would be unable to demonstrate how I had solved the mystery. I continued to ask who had taken the picture, but no one seemed to know. A woman standing near me said she understood why someone might have taken the picture, because she herself sometimes took things at the end of a show when something was left over. I however felt my spirits sink because I knew I would now be unable to explain to anyone how I had solved the mystery.
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