Just before I woke up, I had a dream that I was in a pub somewhere in Scotland. I’ve never been to Scotland. In the dream, it was cold, possibly winter time, and a chill hung through the pub. But it didn’t bother anyone. There was a small coal-burning stove in the back of the pub. Somebody - possibly the bartender, a woman - instructed me to go put more coal into the stove, as it was getting low. I was sort of surprised that I’d been asked, since I was merely a patron, and not an employee. But I also felt a certain honor or acceptance over the whole thing. It meant I was being included among the regulars, for whom this is a typical task, all part of being at the pub. I went over and opened the hatch on the stove. It was filled mostly with ashes and some burning embers. I packed in a few pieces of coal. And then one of the regulars came over and helped me. He could tell I hadn’t done this before, and there was a particular way of loading it which worked best. I thanked him for his help, and explained my inexperience by informing him that this wasn’t something we ordinarily had to do in the States.