Here is this morning’s dream for which there is no obvious explanation.

The dream opens on the main street inside Edinburgh Castle. It is early morning and a number of tourists are there. It is before the main crowd. To one side of the street there is a small vocal demonstration by young people with various banners. Greta Thunberg is among the small throng. I go over to have a chat with her about the environmental policy they are trying to put forward and the development project they are campaigning against. I explain my distant science background. She and couple of her contemporaries are happy to have a chat. We are having a nice time just chatting and discussing.

Donald Trump is walking along the street with his security, secret service, entourage. He walks straight up to me and addresses me personally pointing the finger of his right hand at me, in my face, as he speaks. In his usual hectoring voice he says, “You are not going to win. In fact you could end up dead!!” I am taken aback. I reply that I did not know I was in any competition and that the notion of winning is alien to me. I have no idea what he is on about. He turns his back and walks off with his security detail. We look at each other with a glance that says, “what the hell was that all about?”

I am now in my hotel room inside Edinburgh Castle. A man bursts into the room. He is clearly American. He is holding a long barrelled antique Colt service revolver pistol which he is pointing in my face. There is decoration on the revolver ammunition barrel and I can see Colt marked into the steel. He gestures me with the gun over to the window where there is a cushioned window seat. Using a move from hoshin-no-kata I grab the barrel and twist it sharpy up and towards him. This snaps the bones in his trigger finger and we end up with me pointing the gun at his face. He is disarmed and holding his broken hand with the other. I lift up the window seat cushion and deposit the gun underneath. I say to him that he had better get out of my room. Which he does.

The scene changes and I am in a very plush well decorated appartement in central London. I understand it to be belonging to the family of one of the friends of Greta. It is ambassadorial, possibly Swedish. The youngster’s parents are happy for them to be using it and that their child is taking an interest in environmental action. The young people want me to speak at an upcoming event with them. I explain that I have no idea how people of their age think as I am of an entire different generation. I might not go down well. They say to let them worry about that and that they will coach me on their ways.

They ask me if I might play the piano. There is a piece ready for me on the grand piano which is there. They usher me over and I say to Greta that I will practice. She sits near the piano stool and I am joined thereupon by a young woman who is English upper class by accent. I start to figure out how to play the piece. It is a long time since I have tried to read music. I can play the relatively easy first page. But when It comes to the second page I get lost particularly with some of the finger range required for the left hand. It starts with a vibrato note played by the left little finger at a very bass note. The woman next to me shows me how to play this note and we practice for a while.

Slowly I get a little better. I say that I probably won’t be ready for the gathering which will be in the ambassadorial residence. I say that I only got grade one piano and that was back in 1974. This to them seems a very long time ago and they tease me that I am a fossil and they could make fossil fuel out of me. They say it does not matter how good I play. What is important at these events is that everyone has a go.

The alarm goes off and the dream ends.