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  • "A man's dreams are an index to his greatness."

    Or so says Rabbi Zadok HaKohen Rabinowitz (1839-1905) of Poland.

    An interesting thought, that. To embrace one's dreams as the guideposts of one's journey to greatness has its appeal. Unless those dreams are mine, in which case I would want to embrace the therapeutic assistance of a really good psychiatrist.

    My dreams, generally, move from one obvious plane of existence to another; they seem to leap from one "movie" to the next with little or no discernible segue. That is hardly new or troublesome in the realm of dream theory. But the stories told by those little 'mini-movies' is a bit troublesome, even for me, if one embraces the notion that dreams are an index to greatness. Let's use last night's joyous dreams as an example.

    My dream ended with me and some small child I did not know living in a bizarre refugee camp, a tall, imposing Army barracks-style facility. There was no furniture to speak of, and no one was allowed to sit down. I'm sure that there is some meaning behind that, but that's not what troubled me at all.

    The troublesome part of my dream was the mini-movie immediately before the end, the one that still has my oldest child laughing so hard, I fear for her bladder. That segment starred Kim Woodburn of BBCA's "How Clean Is Your House" as the housecleaner in an all-marble mansion, and her sidekick, Daniel Radcliff, who was wearing standard teenager clothes and a knitted cap with string ties.

    After chatting about nothing important for a short while, a pair of skateboards magically appear under their feet. The two gently set off down the hall, where they are stopped by the master of the house. He asks Ms Woodburn what she is up to, and she replies, "Just skating through life, sir."

    He looks at the boy and asks, "Who are you?"

    Daniel tugs the strings of his cap and replies, "Hatty Potter."

    And then the two skate back into the kitchen. As the kitchen door closes, that portion ends and my movie jumps immediately into the refugee camp.

    I do believe I may very well be insane. Either that, or I watch way too much British entertainment for one person.

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