I don’t remember my dreams very often. Those I do are worked into books (thanks, D), pondered because they’re just weird, or immediately discarded because they’re so horrible, I’m afraid of incurring the feeling of them throughout my day.
Sometimes though, the dreams I remember are heralds. Not in a way that is prophetic – there are no lotto numbers rattling around my subconscious, nor are the answers to the universe (besides, I think someone already figured that out and it is 42). The closest I’ve come to prophesy is when my dream life tells me my girlfriends are expecting. This is only useful if said friends are coming to a party, and I need to make sure there is something for them to imbibe.
By heralds, I mean the dream shows me something – something about myself I want to shine brightly, or something I know I can do and want to incorporate into my life. I dreamt one such herald three years ago. It started out with a field trip. I can’t recall if we were students in high school or college, but we were on a bus, heading back to dorms. It quickly shifted to having to return to school. I was given a choice: stay in the city or go back to school.
I said goodbye to all my friends, promised to call and began living my life.
I remember feeling a tremendous relief that I never had to go to school again, that I was never going to be expected to measure up to someone else’s metric, that I could learn for its own sake, do things for their own sake and live how I wanted to. Never mind that I had not been enrolled in school for at least 3 years at that point.
The freedom of not being beholden to anyone was a beautiful feeling. I remember rushing through this delightful city (still don’t know where it was – or whether it is a real place) and made my home in some sort of warehouse or loft. I have no idea how long I stayed – long enough to decorate though, and let me tell you, it was fabulous. It mixed up the best of shabby chic, art nouveau, reclamation and all sorts of wonderfulness in a way that I have only ever – pardon the pun – dreamed about. I still draw pictures of what I remember so I can have the ideas when the time comes to move and redecorate an apartment – which, if the gods are kind, will not suffer Wisconsin winters, and perhaps make use of that EU/Irish passport languishing in my drawer.
So, aside from lusting after the apartment, what made this dream shine in my memory was that I was leaving. Again. I left the apartment, and the leave-taking was done in rather short order. Not only that, but I had with me a single suitcase and box. I was travelling light, and although the apartment was incredible, I wasn’t sad to see the things go.
The box, by the way, was for those items that were not mine. I had the wherewithal to recognize that I had pilfered some of my best friend’s things and would have to send them back to her. See, Christine, you’ll get that purse back. Eventually.
The final leave-taking of the dream was bittersweet – not in the dream, mind, but for me upon waking. It was also the only true herald it contained – so far. In the process of packing up my life (and that gorgeous apartment), I realized I was leaving my then-boyfriend. It took two years for this part of the dream to become a reality, but even then I knew, in the dusty recesses of my heart, that the relationship wouldn’t last, that it was a thing I would eventually have to grow out of. It wasn’t a bad feeling; it just took a while to acknowledge.
I am not ashamed to admit that I also lied about this part, when I shared with said boyfriend this ‘really awesome’ dream I had (forgetting that I’d dumped him at the end). It’s not really nice to tell your then-paramour that the best part of the dream was the fact that you were leaving him. It’s just not polite. But now, I can admit that the leaving was the best part. I was headed off into god-knows-where, but I was happy. I was relieved. And the world held in it a promise of more.
It’s something I need to remember more often.
For today’s WordPress Daily Prompt, Sweet Dreams.
In the News
A: Green did his own version of the Daily Prompt, here. And thanks to Green for reminding me that these daily prompts exist. Because I had no idea what to put out there today.
D: Of course, that implies that she has an idea of what to put out all the other days she manages to post.
A: Oi – watch it, Druid. There’s all sorts of leave-takings–
D: But never mind the creative genius glaring at me from the corner.
A: Nice save, D.
D: I thought so. In other news, John W. Howell’s new book, My GRL is available in a few new locations. Check them out and tell him the Druid sent you.
A: Because that will make his day. Our favorite Dilettante is going places, too – there’s a new installment of the Jessica B. Bell Bayou serial, and there’s a twisted little tale over at the Community Storyboard.
D: Not only that, but her Kickstarter has reached 55% of its goal – stop by and congratulate her, and while you’re at it, sign up yourself. There’s less than a month to go, and there are some delightful benefits for participating!
A: Also, Scott Navicky, a new-to-me author of the novel, Humboldt, or The Power of Positive Thinking, had an excellent interview with the Chicago Literati. My favorite takeaway: Mr. Navicky considers himself a “magpiethinker.” That word sang in my head for the rest of the interview.
D: And finally, Ms. Marie Ann Bailey had a wonderful interview with Paperbook Collective curator, Jayde-Ashe Thomas. It’s a wonderfully cozy, informative and charming interview. Both Marie and Jayde are lovely, and the interview is a delight to read.
A: And that is it for today, folks. Thank you for stopping by and reading and have a fantastic day!