Misantlerage.
So, a few days ago, I had stepped away from my computer for my post lunch nap. I must have slept? Dozed? for less than an hour. But I had dreamt.
I was in a room, like one of those meeting rooms from an old fashioned office. Solid wood furniture, none of the glass and plastic that plagues the offices of today. This was what you would expect to find in an old Tata office, or in one of the more prosperous and better managed public sector companies. The centerpiece was a heavy wooden conference table. shaped like a capsule. The chairs were heavy dark wood as well. The table could have seated 8 people, but there were only four of us. It was the end of the meeting. Maybe I had dreamed an entire meeting, but I could only remember the last few minutes. There was a short woman in a black shirt and jeans opposite me. We were both sitting on the right side of the table. I couldn't see, or remember the faces of the others, one of whom was seated at the head, the other next to her or him.
The Chinese woman said "This is important. The word is 'misantlerage'". She pronounced it "mis-antler-aazh". "Do you know what it means? It's important". Before I could reply, there was a voice from the other side of the table. It was the woman (I'm pretty sure it was a woman) chairing the meeting. "It is wondering about the role you would play in the performance of a symphony".
The Chinese woman looked at me and said "Do you understand?"
I thought I did. I said "Its about wondering part you would play in a group endeavour. Does it have to be artistic? It can be anything, right? Even cleaning this room?"
I didn't hear the answer. I woke up. But I remembered the word. And the brief discussion that went into it. I made an effort to retain as much of the dream as I awoke.
The first thing I did when I was fully awake was to look up "misantlerage".
It didnt mean anything.