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I had a blue-collar on-the-road construction job. We went out-of-town for two or three weeks
Part way through the first week, I learned the foreman was on parole for homicide
End of the first week, the foreman invited the crew back to his motel room for a start-the-weekend party. Way more alcohol than I wanted to see. Then foreman and racist girlfriend start playing with their handguns. I found a polite way to leave quickly and quietly
Couple nights later I dreamed the foreman shot me. I thought, "Y'know, these people kinda bother me. I think I'll be careful." The next day at work, during a break, the foreman came up to me and said, "I dreamed last night I shot you"
I said something vague like, "Eh, I hope that doesn't happen." But by the next day, I'd found a workable excuse to catch the next plane back home
I can still remember that dream, and sometimes I'll wonder a bit if I'm not wandering through the Garden of Forking Paths: maybe there's a path where another struggle4progress was shot dead by accident by a drunk at stupid party, and this struggle4progress just lucked onto a path where that didn't happen
But, really, it was just a dream
Your mental machine resets itself when you sleep, so it continues to work right. Your brain pumps your heart and drives your breathing and regulates your body temperature: the system wants to retune all that stuff to keep it running smoothly. There's all this electrochemistry associated with what you're actually going to remember from the day, and what it's going to be associated with when you remember it
I knew the guy could have shot me. He knew it too. We both knew it. Our little primate brains processed the info just about the same way: we dreamed about something that fortunately never happened
I could make obvious sense of that dream. But dreams don't often make much sense: there are no reliable maps of a dream world: you're driving down the road and you turn around to retrace your route and what's in front of you now isn't what you just drove through
Rarely, now and then, I'll wake from a crazy dream with an emotional certainly that it means such-and-such, even if I can't give any logical reason why. The little neurons were mopping-up and sweeping-out while I slept; sometimes they set something aside for me to notice when I first wake; but mostly, when I remember a dream, I think it's just that I briefly glanced what my neurons were carrying back and forth in their feverish nightly house-cleaning
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