By Mike Bossy

It has been quite sometime since I thought about this reoccurring dream I used to have. I was about eight and this dream reoccurred every night for about a year. In the dream, I was flying a super sonic transport (SST). Not the Concorde, by the way, it hadn’t been built. When I reached Mach 1, I would lose control and the SST would crash to the ground startling me from my slumber.

I would always manage to go back to sleep and do it all over again. I would taxi to the local Esso station where I would refuel; you know, put a “Tiger in My Tank” and take off again. My goal was to keep the SST aloft, reach Mach 1 and land softly. The number of times I crashed a night varied. It was like watching the Road Runner show and W. E. Coyote always bouncing back up.

My flying techniques needed to change. I needed to do things that would earn me the ability to stay aloft. I needed to earn points, measure the points and once I reached my target, my plane would stay up and land softly. After each crash, I would arise from bed and wander about the house collecting random items. My parents wondered why all the face cloths might be up atop the fridge (avocado coloured in those days) or my electric train was set up and running in the kitchen. Every morning something different was found.

I eventually reached the target points, and I landed the SST. After that landing, there was no more dreaming of the SST, crashing, refueling and taking off.

On reflection, I had set a goal and measured my progress against the goal. What you can measure, you can manage. One question arises. If I had reported on my progress to my parents, would I have reached my goal sooner?