My teacher, Victor Borge

Tell us about your first lucid dream - and your latest. We want all the juicy details. Also share results of dream challenge experiments.
Nickfan40
Posts: 171
Joined: 17 Aug 2014 03:08

My teacher, Victor Borge

Postby Nickfan40 » 30 Oct 2014 17:19

I had this dream just last night. I was listening to one of his concerts on a CD. This is one of the few lucid dreams I've had without the aid of the NovaDreamer and the recordings.

I was back in junior high school. I recognized the room as the one I had back in 8th grade.

My teacher was not the one I had in 8th grade, but the one I had in high school. She had to be away for a few months, maternity leave or something.

I was walking down the hallway to get to class. Sitting in a chair outside the room was none other than Victor Borge. This would have been the school year 1988/89, but he was a young man, about 40-45 years old; he was nearing 80, then. I give him a look of recognition and smile shyly. Some of the other kids do not recognize him.

We get settled in and do our work. We are doing a vocabulary test. I can't concentrate, but keep sneaking looks at the handsome young man sitting at the side of the room at the desk.

It is the next day. We get our papers back. I get an 86%. I was always pretty good at English, vocabulary, and other subjects as long as the teachers didn't grade too hard, which really wasn't fair.

On everyone's paper, he has written in red ink that he will be in London, England for a concert on January 11 through a certain date, but can't tell what it is. It is very clear and legible handwriting.

What was so strange about this dream was that he was very serious. Not cracking jokes with the kids or telling stories. I didn't hear him talk at all. Before he left us, though, he gave a full concert for the whole school in the gymnasium.
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Interpretation: I'm not sure why I didn't hear him talk in this dream. I guess it's because the dead don't talk. I always regretted it that I never got the chance to write him a fan letter, telling him how much he meant to me and my family, especially my dad. In 1961, he had been giving concerts in Lexington, KY, at the Memorial Coliseum. My dad told me about getting to see him and how that took his mind off being sick: he had just gotten over hepatitis.

In 1990, I was looking up his name in a Who's Who in America, and found his address; he had lived in Connecticut. I was going to write to him, but never got the chance.

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