Restless and unsettled, Divinius woke from a troubled sleep. He sat bolt upright remembering the newest version of that recurring Sisyphian dream that  plagued him. Usually he saw himself pushing a large snowball to the top of a mountain, only to have a group of determined gnomes lever it over to the edge and roll it back down. In this new dream he and his crew of naked groomer men had abandoned their ginzu grooming equipment and were pushing 100 pound potato sacks full of money and labeled with the number 13 towards the top of Over the Hill trail. But just before the summit, the burlap bags would rip, tear and split asunder, spilling their golden treasure back down the slope. “Let’s try it one more time!” Divinius found himself yelling out in encouragement to his grooming acolytes. They scrambled back to the bottom of the hill, no longer naked but suddenly clad in red fleece Patagonia leisure suits and sporting conical red hats. What a dream! Perhaps the old man was worried about the 13th annual Ski Festival fund raiser coming up in just a week and a half.  More likely, our confused dreaming Davinius was just overly tired from a long day of grooming Tuesday. He had driven round and round just one loop, trying to flatten, widen and fluff the icy concave trail. That trail, winding along the creek as far as bridge junction and then back Over the Hill, did look much improved he thought. Or was that a dream too?  On Wednesday, he decided, he would on continue on to the the lake in his endlessly recurring cycle of grooming.