jack story

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Once there was a sharp young fellow named Jack, always looking for the main chance that would make his fortune and put him on Easy Street. One day, Opportunity called on Jack, in the form of an old peddler who offered to accept Jack's cow in trade for a handful of magic beans which when planted, he said, would grow into a huge beanstalk that reached into the sky to amazing worlds beyond.

Jack made the trade, and resolved to hide the beans until they would come in handy. He buried them under the floor of his humble house, sealed in a can, and guarded the house day and night. So single minded was he that his friends soon ceased to call, and his sweetheart reluctantly went to find another love. Jack didn't care; he knew that his fortune was made, and one day he would show them all.

It didn't take long for Jack to lose most of his possessions from neglect or by trading them for basic provisions. He grew some food in his garden, shot wild animals that came close enough, and slept lightly lest someone break in and steal his treasure.

After a few years -- not too many -- Jack died, alone, a crazed pauper living on inadequate food. When his neighbors realized he was dead, some men from the town broke into his house, having heard rumors of a fantastic treasure hidden inside. One of them was killed by a trap Jack had left in place. The others tore his wretched cabin apart, finally pulling up the floor and digging underneath, where they found a can containing a small quantity of dried-up shriveled bits of vegetable matter which might once have been beans.

Moral: Don't just sit on it.

(c)2006 by the author of this journal

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dream crumbs

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Well, if I still remember it this late in the day, why not?

The last thing I remember dreaming is that I was just starting out in a job for another academic department -- physics again, perhaps. It was like a series of vignettes. In one, I would see a problem. The first was that balls -- footballs, basketballs, round balls -- were all getting knocked through a culvert and into a stream. I fished some out, but they were getting knocked back in anyway. I asked if we could put a net up right there. (No, they said.) Then, without a transition, the problem was solved, and time had apparently passed. So I dreamed I was working and fitting in. No wonder I woke up feeling disgruntled.

One other thing stayed with me: a fragment of song. The tune in the dream was nondescript, but it happens to fit the slow movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony.

"Why are you here, Bob?
 Why are you here?" (repeat)

No idea what that's all about. I don't remember who was named Bob in the dream.
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