snatches from a dream...

...putting on military clothes, not travel or dress but fatigues. The hour is early, light a muted blue-gray. Taking a trip. Spain. The purpose is not clear and the mechanics of getting to the airport and most of the flight are lost in a haze. A few stark mental flashes from thirty thousand feet: clouds and ocean, approaching continent, geopolitical map relief overlay...visible borders and names, as if flying over a desktop globe.

Spain, at least in the script of a dream. Twisting white corridors, slightly dingy. A cross between office, clinic, and cafeteria. The voices are english. Mix of nationalities. I meet a doctor something, she is conducting the study. I have no idea why I'm here and I don't ask. I nurture a growing unease over the uncertainty of the return flight. She mentions eleven, but as I walk back to my room I wonder if it is the time of my flight or the study. I help an elderly Chinese man, he appears to be a doctor, we get along and have a good laugh over something. The hall fills with echoes as a knot of white coated doctors pass by.

There's a woman relaxing in my room, maybe my wife maybe not, and then we are all out on a picnic and lots of people I know are there, none of whom live or have ever been to Spain. I'm much too concerned over the time of my return flight to do much more than help carry things when instructed.

The nagging flight schedule drives me into the empty office of the doctor to see if I left my tickets there. Instead I find a clipboard with my name and one other written in the left most column. The clipboard holds an official Study form and the title of the study is:

The Generally Stupid but Sometimes Genius

Hey! In the span of a few seconds I traverse from anger to annoyance. It does mention Genius after all. Sure, there are times when I'm not so smart...stupid? A little harsh. At this point the doctor walks in and smiles in that knowing, reassuring way I expect. I try to get an explanation. We are interrupted by this other guy, subject #2. Maybe he's just stupid, I think, and I represent genius. I know this to be untrue and unfair to those who really are full time genius.

Before leaving the office I manage to get the schedule. Test tomorrow, Saturday, return flight eleven on Sunday morning. I experience a brief moment pondering what sort of genius tendencies I'll exhibit but then my mind is back to organizing the hours between now and the flight back. That's all that really mattered and the dream fades away in a blue gray swirl.

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