Clock-time rules this morning. The steeple-chase race starts at eight fifteen. No surprise: dreamtime involved packing out a house at the last minute. The dreamer was moving back to a country of origin, apparently, with a flight in the afternoon and most of the packing, still to do. A few elves or trolls were kind enough to handle the books (they’d found boxes too, bless them). As always happens when you move, objects re-appeared in unlikely places – so that’s where I’d put the barbecue set!
Faces, faces, people I’ve never met in real life, streaming by, each with detailed features, clothing, mannerisms and expressions.
Maybe the endless rant by one of the parents yesterday had something to do with all this overwhelming profusion. An angry, frustrated and panicky man isn’t much fun to put up with at the end of a long, long afternoon. One who can’t think of a single positive where women are concerned? Even less so. Luckily, so to speak, I don’t register as a woman in his rants which allows me some leeway in shoving him in the general direction of sane and reasoned discourse. Verbal shoving being the operational concept. Subtleties don’t rate with this angry and panicky person. Meanwhile, the man’s son sat like a lump. The teeny-tiny light that had shone in his eyes while talking about King Arthur and his knights? Gone, you bet.
Between the man’s introductory rant and his end-of-session ramble, I tried to get the boy to project himself out of the present mess into a future some five years down the line. A time when he would make the decisions, he would be the grown-up. I’m afraid his projection wasn’t too realistic in terms of achievable goals. At least, the Potsdam Gravity Potato* lifted for him somewhere between five thirty and six o-clock yesterday afternoon.
Fear not, fictional characters. We’ll meet up soon, further up the road.
First order of business on the agenda today: a talk to mothers at a local school on – oy, can I believe it – How to Motivate Your Child at Homework Time.
*A concept lifted from the Astronomy Today page, a few weeks ago. Apparently, gravity doesn’t weigh down in one even blanket. Gravity bunches up in places, and lifts in others. The Potsdam Gravity Potato rests more heavily over Europe than somewhere in the South Seas. A scientific fact always comes in useful at some point, yes?