Dream of: 27 April 1999 "No Early Grave"
I was lying on my back in a bathtub, an old tall white tub, exactly like the one in the upstairs of the Gay Street House. I was fully clothed, even though the lukewarm water covered me. I was extremely comfortable and unsure how long I would remain here. Since I had nothing pressing me at the moment, I thought I could stay as long as I wanted.
Carolina stepped into the room for a few moments, but she didn't stay. She needed to go to work and she was in a hurry. After she departed, Wheat walked in. He also was in a hurry to get to work. I thought to myself how I had often tried to persuade Wheat to take a vacation. He seemed to spend all his time at the office, and the phrase "working himself to an early grave" floated through my mind. I was certainly not going to work myself into an early grave, and I thought of once again suggesting to Wheat that he take a week off for a vacation. Then I reflected that my words would have no effect on him, and I decided not to say anything. He likewise only stayed for a few moments, then hurried off to work.
I resumed my tranquil musings in the tub. As I pondered what I was going to do today, and I began to imagine where I was going to go, I actually found myself out on the street, on my way. I was on Third Street in Portsmouth, about five blocks from the Gay Street House. I wasn't walking; I was on roller blades. I was also carrying a sturdy stick which I was using to propel me along, like a person in a boat might use a paddle to row the boat. I would push the stick into the ground, then propel myself forward.
I wasn't quite clear where I was going. I had no steady job at the moment, and I wondered if I should think of finding one, even though the idea didn't much appeal to me. I did have a few legal clients who had asked me to help them with a few matters, even though I didn't have an office and I wasn't trying to find clients. If I wanted something to do, I could spend some time concentrating on these few cases. Working on those cases seemed like more than sufficient work for me at the moment. I really didn't want more than that.
Up ahead of me on the street was another man with a stick. When I looked closer I saw that he was actually using a cane and was obviously disabled. He was right in my way, and I had to swerve to pass him. Just as I reached him, in an annoyed voice, I said, "Excuse me. Excuse me," and I passed on by.
Just as I passed the man, I saw something in the street a small pile of money. There were several bills, maybe more than several, and the one on top was a crisp new fifty. It looked as if the bottom bills might be stuck in the tar, with black smears on them, but I couldn't tell for sure. I immediately tried to stop. I knew I must act swiftly or the disabled man would snatch up the money. I might even need to fall down right on top the money to make sure he didn't get the cash before I could.
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