The New & Improved Harvard, Raul, Gates, Pot, & Nude Marathoners - Dreams

THE NEW AND IMRPROVED UPBEAT  LIGHTWEIGHT ENERGETIC COOPERATIVELY CONSTRUCTIVE BOSTON AREA, FEATURING THE NEW HARVARD, RAUL HINEJOSA, MARIJUANA, BILL GATES, AND BEAUTIFUL NUDE MARATHONING WOMEN -- DREAMS OF THE NIGHT AFTER NEW YEAR'S DAY 2005 AND COMMENT

 

There were some unremembered details in the dream I am not sure regarding the exact order of the dream segments.

 

I was walking along this hall in Harvard University. I felt lightweight and energetic, sort of like the new atmosphere at this new Harvard. The hallway was not too brightly lit, but it was daylight outside. It was a long first floor hall running parallel to a road, of the type that you find in the neogothic buildings at the University of Chicago and U of Chicago high school. Indoors this hallway was at least somewhat neogothic; the first floor stairwell was similar to the stairwells in the neogothic university of Chicago buildings: big double doors, one on each side, then wide steps, then more double doors, then more steps, then the sidewalk, and then the road running parallel to the the long hallway, and the Chicago people, who used to be boring depressing and heterosocially speaking unfriendly  but who now due to the waving of a magic wand have become hearty light footed heterosocial and fun to be around outside.  These stairwell doors were not shaped like rectangles, they were at the top shaped like the arch in the doorway they were part of.

 

Near one of these stairwells, on the first floor, two guys walked past me, and they both said, "not Andrea Cawelti", or something to that effect. 

 

This because in reality I, faced with crushing expenses living in the expensive Boston area, had for twenty years not been able to get a job paying more than eight or so dollars an hour, had not been able to get a job at at Harvard, and the jobs I had been able to get were tough exhausting manual labor jobs, such as at Labor Ready, where you have to show up early in the morning and wait, while not getting paid, to get your assignment, and then have to spend sometimes a long time getting back from your assignment not being paid for your return journey, and then have to wait to get paid back at their home office. Yet Andrea Cawelti, who was my neighbor and who went to my high school, and who was always famous for one thing: being overweight, recently swooped in from Chicago to land a cushy job as librarian at Harvard's music library. By way of contrast I have been famous for many things, judging from the words of others not myself: brilliance, good character, athleticism, beauty, voice, sexual attractiveness in the eyes of the beautiful socially high ladies.

I never spoke a scornful word about Andrea all the time I was around her. She was the type who suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune with equanimity, without jealous wrath.

 

So they said "not Andrea Cawelti" as they walked past me. The two who said this were both tall strong white men with normal length straight  brownish hair. they looked similar. I remembered the appearance of one of them especially well. He was about six feet four inches tall, he wore a suit and tie type jacket that was grayish and it seemed of the slightly fuzzy or tweedy type, the kind of shirt that goes with it but not a tie, he reminded me of Peter Rivera, who was the drummer for Rare Earth, this 60s-70s era band I used to and still do admire. He was athletic looking, not fat.

 

Similarly, when I was in Chicago in August, I met in real life a guy who was similar to these two dream guys in the hallway, except that he wore his hair in a little George Washington type pony tail. He lived with his girlfriend. He was a bigshot in computers at the University of Chicago. He was a neighbor of my brother's. He inclined his head towards me and muttered, "Not Andrea...you're a genius".

 

Then in the dream, I was at Lamont Library, the undergraduate library for Harvard. It had a new atmosphere to it, hopeful, energetic, bright, upbeat, lightweight yet energetic, constructive, into productively working with skilled and talented persons to produce things of value.

 

By way of contrast, in reality, once when I applied for a job at Harvard, the white female three foot tall dwarf who interviewed me informed me that they had no work for me because I was "overqualified".  Another time when I applied at Harvard a black male interviewer who was in his twenties filled the computer database with negative comments, and then his supervisor, a black female, after speaking with me for about ten seconds in a normal prosaic phone call, filled the computer database with a repeat of all the negative coments he the black male in his twenties had made. Neither time did I land a job.

 

There was in the dream a guy working behind the desk at Lamont library. He had brown skin, I could not tell if this was inborn or acquired through a tan. He had straight black hair of normal length, his head reminded me a little of a light bulb but was not deformed, he was clean shaven, but I did not get a good close look at his face. He wore a suit-jacket that was I think gray, and made from a slightly fuzzy material. He was about six feet tall. He was intelligent and competent in air and look, not feminine looking, not gay looking.

 

I gave him a few handwritten pages, they were pages from this here blog. He took the pages, put them into a machine that sucked the pages in, and the machine 'spat out'  the pages in book form, in the form of a book that was about 11 inches high and 3 inches wide.  My blog, this blog I am writing in now,  was respectfully reproduced in this book in printed letters such as you read here as opposed to handwritten script.  The book contained some comments written by persons other than myself, which were respectful. The text of this book, that written by me, was on the left page when you opened the book and looked at it, whereas the comments written by the commentator were on the right page. the right pages had less text and more blank space than the left pages. I think the book also had respectful comments by other persons at the beginning of it. The book was a paperback the cover of it was a shiny  glossy dark crimson color, darker than the crimson that is the official color of Harvard University.

 

Interesting sidenote: in another dream the same night as this one about the New Harvard, , the night after new year's day, I dreamt that this here blog I am writing in now, has as of now the equivalent of 67 book-pages of writing in it. By book page,  I mean the number of words found on a typical page in a typical book.  As a matter of fact this particular blog-post, I estimate to be 7.65 book length pages, which would be a 2792  pages per year pace if 7.65 pages were to be produced every day.  It took me today 2.5 hours to write this blog-post. I estimate this particular blog could serve as the basis for 31 minutes of film or video; if I were to produce 28 minutes of such every day that would be a pace of  11,315 minutes  or 189 hours per year. Then the trick is producing extremely high quality by whittling out the 'lower' quality stuff.

 

Then in the dream,  I was in an office at Harvard that was dimly lit, standing in front of a desk.  Behind the desk sat a white lady, who was not a dwarf, she had brown-yellow hair that was slightly wavy, parted in the middle, top of the shoulder length, her face was slightly ovalish and chiseled, she was not exactly pretty, but not unattractive, I could not see her face very well in the dim light of the office.  She reminded me of the two guys who had muttered about Andrea Cawelti as they walked past me. She looked like a female version of those two guys.  

 

This woman gave me a blue slip of paper that was about three inches high and seven inches wide, there were a couple of lines drawn in pencil on this paper and some words. The writing had to do with the work I was hired by ('the new') Harvard to do that day. There was no job application, no interview, I just stood in front of the desk and she gave me the blue slip with the assignment on it. Looking at what was written on the paper I was trying to figure out if the work would be manual low taking orders work or work creative intellectual work wherein people different from me worked with me, to together with me produce productive output. I could not tell which kind of work the work involved but I had the impression that these work assignments would at least soon result in me working intelectually and creatively in skilled manner,  with others to produce productive stuff.

 

Then I found myself at an apartment where some friends lived. It was darkish outside, as in early morning or late evening. The apartment buildings had brick walls and were squarish looking not taller than three stories. There were tall leafy trees on the roads by the buildings; the colorfulness of the scene was subdued by the dim daylight. We went to go and meet someone named "Raul". We met him to get some marijuana from him. Raul and I had a fairly long conversation. He was smiling and enjoying himself. I do not remember what we said.

 

I did not n the dream suspect that it was Raul Hinejosa who I went to high school with at U of Chicago high school, because it has sort of been drilled into my mind that Raul Hinejosa, is a distant pompous California person, because of what I have heard about him having a big house and being a succesful professor and him not answering my email and the new militant hispanic ethnocentrism. But after we left his place, it was revealed to me that it was Raul Hinejosa, and I was surprised.

 

At one point, I think as we were walking along this trail in the woods by train tracks or something, returning from our meeting with Raul, in the dream Bill Gates was walking with us. He was wearing his glasses, a suitjacket of a brownish color with some purple in it, the business type shirt,  as I recall no tie, and the long sleeved business type pants. I said something to him, expecting that we would talk for five seconds or so since he was such a busy man. But the conversation went on for a few minutes. It surprised me that he would carry the conversation on for so long, being such a busy man. I do not now remember what words were spoken.

 

At another point, I found myself in that same area where we had walked back from Raul's house with Gates, at the side of a high-way, in an area less developed than suburbs or cities, near the kind of dark brown brush we had walked through on the way to and  back from Raul's. There was a marathon like the Boston marathon going on; the runners were nude women (I am not sure if men  were excluded).  I saw a group of about six of these runners they seemed fairly representative of the entire pack. They were athletically built, shapely, built like models, their hair was medium brown and straight, they were pretty, they ran close together, they had normal to somewhat large size breasts, their skin was medium brown from tanning, they were covered with something oily looking like suntan lotion, their [DELETED] hair was normal sized, and they smiled at me and waved to me and said hi to me as they ran by me on the road, in an enthusiastic way almost as enthusiastic as the women squealing out their adoration of rock stars at rock concerts. Their hair and their skin were almost the same color. They were radiant and healthy looking.

 

 

WAKING NOTES REGARDING REAL EVENTS RELATED TO DREAM REPORTED ABOVE

 

This is what happened once when I applied for a job at Harvard: this short pudgy light skinned black male in his twenties interviewed me.  White people in the offices where he worked informed me that he put large amounts of negative comments about me into a computer database. I could not understand how he could come up with so many negative comments in the course of a short, prosaic interview in which I acted normal. I called an office hoping to speak with his black female supervisor. I spoke with a black female who was the assistant supervisor, I talked with her for ten seconds, she told me the supervisor was not in. After this on the basis of her ten second phone call with me, in which I acted normal, she inputted a large amount of negative comments about me into the computer database. These negative comments, were a repeat of everything the black male who interviewed me had said.

 

 

Black males of the sort  that interviewed me are scorned because ten percent of them are supposedly in jail, but in fairness to such black men, these scorners wring their hands about how there are so many in jail for harmless offenses such as marijuana when they talk about people in general in jail, but forget about how so many are incarcerated for harmless offenses when they talk about black men in jail.

 

Andrea Cawelti was my next door neighbor when I was going to school at U of Chicago high school.  I was more socially popular, more admired for my intelligence, more admired (usually secretly) for my looks than Andrea Cawelti. I at high school was impressive enough to get into Harvard and Yale (but not into Stanford). After I graduated from Harvard college, I wanted to stay in the Boston area, I felt unready for grad school,  I did not have enough money to transplant myself someplace else, my father repeatedly kicked me out of his house because he and his new wife my stepmother was irritable whereas I was normal. I was so rejected by the employers, that I ended up not going to grad school, because I became afraid that after grad school I would be stuck with debt and no job, and because I had become disenchanted with the grad school brains, the grad school personalities, the grad school culture, the grad school ethics, and the grad school behavior.

 

Housing costs and other such costs were astronomical in the Boston area, and I could not get a job of any kind at Harvard. I could only get really low jobs like delivering phone books in terrible snow-storms, while getting paid less than minimum wage taking into account delays before and after the start of the time for which we would get paid. I

 

 lost my life's savings at the time, about $5,000 eventually, from paying rents at places like the Y.  It was virtually impossible for me to get even "low" jobs like clerk in a store. I ended up underfed (in more than one sport I am or have been at or near the pro or championship level at least for my age group), unable to afford a car, living in closet size rooms, sometimes living in homeless shelters, sometimes spending the night in a sleeping bag on a construction site in Cambridge, sometimes living with Harvard students in their alternative housing. 

 

This has gone on for twenty years ever since I graduated from Harvard, this being unable to get a job at Harvard or elsewhere in the Boston area, this syndrome wherein if there is more than one applicant for a job in the Boston area and I am one of those applicants, then I do not get the job.

 

I have not been able to eat anywhere near the level someone chasing a world record (age group breast and crawl swimming) should be eating at, this despite my popularity with beautiful white women in the area, this despite general acclaim for my looks and intelligence.

 

Yet recently Andrea Cawelti of Chicago, sort of  suddenly swooped into the Boston area and all of a sudden, immediately, had a cushy job at Harvard. All the time that I was anywhere near Andrea Cawelti, she was famous for one thing: being quite overweight plus she always wore glasses, her overweight state showed on her face, and she was'nt pretty. But now lo and behold, she has a cushy job of the type I always needed, as the librarian at the music school at prestigious HARVARD UNIVERSITY.

 

Harvard paved the way for its turning itself into a financial desert for me, through steps such as: barring me from a dorm without a hearing because of some rumor re something I allegedly said; barring me from campus because of a short story containing sex mailed to a woman who reported such to police (her friend read the story and opined that I send it to her because it was not as dirty as what she was reading in english class at Harvard); falsely accusing me of spray painting a wall, a charge to which I had to plea-bargain guilty, being unable to afford a lawyer, my father being unwilling to pay for a lawyer.

 

Seems to be the case that: 

 

 The problem in the Boston area is that socially unpopular women (SUW's) are for political reasons treated like royalty. These SUW's proceed to sexually harass males and attempt to extort ego massages and sex from males. SUW's should be looking up psychologists they can hire to provide ego massages and gigolos they can hire for sex if such is what they are after. SUW's focus like a laser on extorting sex money and ego massages for themselves from society all the time. They inappropriately turn their positions of power at organizations that hire persons, into offices dedicated to extorting sex and ego massages for SUWs from men. They punish men who they do not receive sex and ego massages from, while they reward men they do receive sex and ego massages from. They are not offended by gay men who like many hetero men fail to provide them with sex and ego massages, although they are offended by straight men who fail to provide them with such things. Thus there is an ego-massage component involved, because the difference between the gay man and the hetero man is that the SUW ego is not offended by rejection from gay men but is offended by rejection from straight men.