I was dreaming about being at a computer seminar, where for some reason they were giving away a number of sleek, encased laptop computers and other paraphernalia. For some reason, while everyone was in attendance and no one was looking, I managed to collect a fair number of computers.

To the chagrin of leaving my old one behind in the process of arranging and moving the new ones to a table, where they might not be recognized as the seminar let out, and as the seminar let out and there were people everywhere again going through and taking whatever wasn’t tied down, I realized that the device I was left with turned out to be one of those thermal paper word processors and at that point, I knew I was duped.

And so now that I had lost my computer that contained my hard drive and potentially all my data from a time when I was seeing a flight attendant among other long-winded memories, I was now faced with that loss and the thought of someone else looking down at the machine that due to a broken power supply, fried CPU, or perhaps even a broken hard drive, was frozen in time.

When I look back at the lesson I am supposed to be learning in this life that the dream is alluding to, I sense that it isn’t to horde empty technological vehicles, but to do with what you’ve created or better still if you haven’t done something by now, its time to kiss it goodbye. Maybe someone else can make use of what you seem unable.

It’s odd how the truth of a complicated relationship that really shouldn’t see the light of day, kind of like The Notebook, which made for an interesting read, but to have actually lived it as the story of the flight attendant revealed as a tragedy from start to finish and not something I should have been proud of anyway.

And to think that I knew a collector of typewriters, those hollow instruments that have absolutely no memory and can only serve to document truth if they are fed a sheet of paper, and even then it’s the paper we should cherish and perhaps not the memories.