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Pipe Dreams



For the last few years (since around 2007 or so) it is RARE that I recall any of the dreams I have while sleeping. The few that I do recollect typically dissipate quickly upon the first few minutes of awakening. I think there are probably 10 or fewer dreams that I vividly recall since about 2007.

I used to have a much better retention of the dreams I have while sleeping at night. I miss that. However, I guess there is somewhat of a silver lining to this decrease in awareness of dreams... it is also associated with what may be a decrease in awareness (or perhaps occurrence?) of nightmares as well.

This morning, however, was different. I remember vividly my dream, and it was an interesting dream indeed. I was about 20 years younger than I am now, and I had somehow inherited a pipe and pipe tobacco shop in a small village in Northern Germany. It happened to be late Spring, and so I went over there to live in the small apartment above the store and figure out what to do... my conundrum was whether to a) stay in my role as Professor at the U and sell the tobacco shop, b) chuck it all here at the U and take my family to Germany to run this shop, or c) keep my job here at the U and be a long-distance owner of this tobacco shop who only visits during Summers and break periods.

The shop was located in an ancient but well kept up building. The apartment was nice as well. My mercantile neighbor to the right of me owned a quiet beer garden and to the left of me there was a used book store. Across the street were a bread shop, a cake bakery, and two restaurants.

My wife told me to go to Germany and figure out what is best for us to do. The pipe shop was beautiful and quaint. The stock was of good quality and the customers were ample and every friendly (note: Germany currently has a much higher percentage of pipe smoking gentlemen than are seen in the United states. In my reading about this subject perhaps a year or two ago, I believe only country with a higher percentage in the Europe was Poland.). While my German was extremely fractured and grammatically poor, the people I met were friendly and helpful and often would assist me by switching over to English when I was having an especially difficult time communicating. Even though I still wore my beard and mustache, I had started to let my mustache grow longer with visions of attempting to grow something more startling like this Bavarian looking fellow.

I kept exploring the city, kept working at my pipe shop, kept smoking wonderfully rich and pleasant pipe tobacco in my pipes and was trying to figure out what to do. Unfortunately, my alarm went off then and I awoke, but happily the dream was still in my mind with clarity.

PipeTobacco