Strongly Worded

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

OK, so you know how I've been perkier lately? Well, I went to see my parents this weekend, which is always super blissful. Because my life is sucking right now, and because I haven't seen my parents in almost two months (they went on a glam vacation to Thailand, Singapore, and Hong Kong--and if I hadn't made vague and ultimately fruitless vacation plans with the Former Boyfriend, I could have gone too), they were extra, extra kind to me. They brought me lovely gifts from Asia (including an ivory necklace made in a workshop supervised by Thailand's queen, in which crafts are made out of ivory from elephants who certifiably die of natural causes) and my mom made all my favorite foods, and we saw two movies, including The March of the Penguins, which was stunning.

Alas, even the goodness of home could not change the State of my Soul, and I had horrible dreams every night. Lately, I have been waking up approximately every hour, startled by variations of the same nightmares. While some people's nightmares involve monsters and disasters, mine generally consist of one of three situations.

Interpret as you will:

1) I have to be somewhere, usually a travel destination or an important event, and I have nothing to wear. I rip through my closet and find that each and every garment is either ill-fitting, inappropriate, or stained. I am late for wherever important place I have to be, and the more I hurry, the worse it gets.

2) I am in school, and I have to complete an assignment, and there is some scheduling disaster, such that I am completely unprepared for the imminent deadline. On Saturday night, I dreamt that I was supposed to write one "finished" essay and three "unfinished" essays for Ann Boutelle, the demanding and brilliant professor of Advanced Essay Writing (a real, life-changing course I took in college).

3) The same old boring dream of having to perform in a play and not knowing the lines.

Last night I had a new one: I was trying to sell an unwanted and poorly marketed product (a service for buying children's toys, of all things), and failing to meet my sales goals. And the dream was the kind that locks you in: I'd wake up, horrified, and go back to sleep, only to face a new unwilling customer.

Posted by Dori at 12:19 PM