## Posts tagged ‘dream’

### Mathematically Unconscious

Both of my sons sleepwalk. At least once a week, one of them will wake up an hour after bedtime, walk down the stairs, and start speaking gibberish. They have no idea what they’re saying, because they aren’t awake — even though their eyes are open. (Freaky!)

During a recent somnambulation, Alex stood at the top of the stairs. He appeared frustrated. Finally, he said:

I just need to find the numbers. It shouldn’t take long.

As you might well imagine, it’s a little scary to have your son walking and talking while asleep. The only solace is that his subconscious thoughts are about math.

I don’t sleepwalk. But I recently had a dream in which I attended a cocktail party and asked the other attendees a most unusual question:

I suspect that my 7 years as an editor and 4 years as a question writer for MathCounts are to blame, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

I vividly remember a dream I had in college, on the night prior to my Linear Algebra midterm. Feeling unprepared for the exam, my nightmare consisted of two brackets pinching my head like a vice, while numbers floated past.

I awoke in a cold sweat at 5 a.m., and proceeded to a study carrel for more test prep.

I was happy to learn that other folks dream about math, too. While subscribed to a listserve for former instructors of the Center for Talented Youth, I received a message from Mark Jason Dominus that read, “I dreamt of the following problem while I was sleeping last night. When I woke up, I convinced myself that it was a good problem, so I’ve decided to share it.”

The volume of a 3 × 3 × 3 cube is 27 cubic units, and the volume of a 2 × 2 × 1 rectangular prism is 4 cubic units. Theoretically, six prisms should be able to fit inside the cube, with three cubic units empty. But can you arrange six 2 × 2 × 1 prisms so they fit inside a 3 × 3 × 3 cube?

Good luck, and sweet dreams!

### If Martin Luther King, Jr., Were a Mathematician

I have a dream that one day all nations will use mathematics for good, not only to impose a tax on the mathematically illiterate with state-run lotteries, but to make efficient use of scarce resources to feed the homeless, to build effective levees, and — God willing — to create lemonade that stays cold without ice cubes.

I have a dream that one day at Georgia Polytechnic Institute, the sons of algebraists and the daughters of geometers will be able to sit down together and understand one another.

I have a dream that one day even the University of Mississippi, an institution whose professors forbid the use of graphing calculators on final exams, will be transformed by the methods of Laplace and Fourier.

I have a dream that my children will not be judged by the color of their skin or the tuition paid for their private school education, but by their ability to recite the digits of π to a thousand decimal places.

I have a *dream* today!

I have a dream that one day, at the University of Alabama, with all of its numerical analysts, with its math department chairs speaking words like *interpolation* and *null hypothesis* — that one day, right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and ask each other, “Why is 6 afraid of 7?” or “What do you call a two-headed canary?” or “What is the square root of 69?”

I have a *dream* today!

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be parabolic, and every mountain shall be conical, the rough places will be transformed to smooth surfaces, and the crooked curves will be made linear; and the glory of mathematics shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

### Math Dreams

“I can’t get the numbers to stop.”

That’s what Eli told my wife tonight when he woke from a bad dream.

I once had a dream where I was afraid of numbers, too. During the week leading up to my midterm in Linear Algebra, I was reviewing problems from old exams. Though I thoroughly understood all that had been covered in class, and though I was able to complete all the exercises from the textbook with aplomb, I was only getting about 25% of the questions on the old exams correct.

It was freaking me out, and the night before the exam, I went to sleep very nervous.

My sleep was broken by a nightmare in which numbers were flying past my head like cannonballs from a numerical howitzer. They were coming from every direction. To make matters worse, my head was being squeezed by the brackets of a matrix as if it were in a vice.

I woke in a cold sweat. It was 5 a.m. Too anxious to sleep any more, I went to a study carrel in the library where I read and re-read the textbook and continually tried the problems from the old exams. I skipped my morning classes and studied for five straight hours. Yet I was still only able to get a quarter of the problems correct.

The midterm was at 12:30 p.m. At 11:55 a.m., I saw a woman from my class. Though I had never spoken to her before, I approached her and said, “Excuse me, aren’t you in Dr. Sibley’s linear algebra course?”

“Yes,” she replied skeptically.

“Would you mind helping me?” I asked, embarassed by the question.

“Uh… sure,” she said.

I asked her a few questions about the topics we had covered. She confirmed that I understood the material correctly. “So why am I missing so many of the questions from the old exams?” I asked rhetorically.

She took a look at my work and confirmed that it, too, was correct. Then she revealed the punch line: The professor had given us a packet of six exams, and the answer keys for all six exams were copied onto a seventh sheet. But the answer keys and the exams were **not** in the same order — each answer key had to be matched to an exam by noting the semester and date on each.

Arrgh.

I was relieved. Yet frustrated. I managed an 85 on the midterm… yet I’m certain I would have aced it had I gotten a good night’s sleep.

Mark Jason Dominus has much better math dreams than I. He posted the following problem to the mattababy listserv. He claimed that it came to him in a dream; when he woke, he thought it was still a good problem, so he decided to share it.

The volume of a 3 × 3 × 3 cube is 27 cubic units, and the volume of a 2 × 2 × 1 prism is 4 cubic units. Theoretically, six prisms should be able to fit inside the cube, with three cubic units empty. But can you arrange six 2 × 2 × 1 prisms so they fit inside a 3 × 3 × 3 cube?

Friends of mine who taught at the Center for Talented Youth claim that M. J. Dominus would often arrive late to the evening study sessions. As the story goes, he would take naps after dinner… if his alarm sounded while he was in the middle of a math dream, he would shut off the alarm and return to sleep so he could finish whatever mathematical proof his subconscience had been working on.

Wow.

**What’s the scariest or coolest math dream you’ve ever had?**