A Dream, May 12, 2025

 I stand atop a hill acting as the lookout for a team, or rather a gang of misfits. 

This is not a country vista with rolling hills and grass. No, this is a city vista, perhaps Camden, the city I see in my child's eye, perhaps not. The vantage point is high, calling to mind San Francisco, but the area seems somewhat impoverished.

I can see three entry points to the intersection and just a small portion of the fourth. My job is to alert my companions when a brown car enters their block. Our intention is to disable this vehicle and remove something of value from it. 

I am not certain of the purpose of this exercise. However, I am convinced the cause is a righteous one. 

I am aware that I need to return to this area the next day to begin my training as an attorney. I have already passed an entrance exam of some kind for this, and I am to meet with an instructor the next day near this spot. 

I call to my compatriots on several occasions as brown vehicles enter the intersection, but to no avail. They are not the right car. Eventually, the task fails for some reason, and I head down the hill to meet with them. 

As I approach, I am pulled aside by a woman, and she asks if I am Nicholas Frese. I respond affirmatively, and she tells me that she is my teacher and has been looking for me. I got my days wrong and was supposed to meet her on this day. 

We walk to a block nearby, and there is some event in place that had something to do with the homeless. I can see these people are advocates for them. I tell my teacher I have been to a similar place recently and met with another such advocate, a short woman of great power who uses her knowledge to help those less fortunate. I believe this meeting was in Philadelphia, but I am not h certain of this. 

My teacher says she knows of this woman and that yes, she is a great person with high knowledge. We talk a bit about the law and my background,  but before the work can begin,  several men enter the area and begin to introduce themselves to me and others present. 

One of the men, another teacher of sorts, tells me that he is going to administer a test to see if I have the aptitude for the position. 

He has a small saw, some small wooden cutouts, and some type of molds in which they are supposed to fit. I am apprehensive as he hands them to me. I do not understand what he expects me to do with them. They are some sort of puzzle, and if I am unable to solve it, it seems I may not be able to continue my training. 

He gives me a brief and unintelligible explanation and then leaves me with the tools to complete the puzzle. 

Bewildered, I stare at them. 

The dream ends.