Last night, I had an interesting dream. I was working desperately with four Navy guys to solve a mystery. One of the guys habitually wore green eyeshadow. The first clue I remember was that something was ten miles away. All I saw were three lights, and the one I mentioned was wrong. I was stumped.
The dream progressed. It was night and snowy. Andy Griffith was our leader, and he received a mortal blow. We had to let him die because the cause would not let us rest. I noticed he was using what energy he had left to turn roll a screw between his fingers in his left hand. I caught the clue because the camera zoomed in on it. Understanding fully, I grabbed it from him, kissed his hand to thank him, and proceeded to use the screw to open a watch.
Well, the director or whoever, didn’t appreciate my efforts, and so the scene was re-enacted with Andy’s right hand and Andy’s son, who was one of the Navy guys. Andy really was dying in the dream. The son did exactly what I did, but he couldn’t grasp that he had to insert the screw at the 10:00 position of the watch. I was upset because I already knew that and was working on it, and we didn’t need dying Andy to knock himself out trying to tell us.
The son got the screw, kissed Andy’s hand, and then Andy shot up with a final burst of energy. He had to make a phone call to the guy who had all the answers. The guy, who we saw through the magic of television, wore a bandana. He was in New Zealand and sleeping. It was at once evident that the mystery we were trying to solve was that Andy owed back taxes of which he was not aware. Lots. The Navy guys and I scurried around to shut the dream down before Andy found out so he could die peacefully, and I at once woke up.
The connection between the screw and the taxes was immediately obvious, but it wasn’t until I was discussing the dream with a coworker today that I realized what it was telling me about the end of everybody’s hard work.
