Dream Dream Dream
Last night I dreamt that The Child and I were siblings. I invited her to cycle into town because I wanted to get some lotion. While she was deciding if she wanted to go, Dame Judi asked me to stop and get a pound of bacon for dinner.
I lifted a 2 pound package of bacon off the kitchen counter and said, "We have bacon, Mommy. And there's a pound in the fridge".
"I know", she replied, in that way mothers have who know everything because they do know everything. "And I need another pound of bacon".
I balked and she looked at me oddly. "I'm a little scared, Mom. I'm scared that you think we need 4 pounds of bacon for 3 people".
True.
I've never been one to analyze dreams too much. Dreams are nothing more than the arena where I work out my woes and encounter fantasy. They are comprised of wishes and fears, informed by what I've consciously done or experienced, read, seen or thought about. They are colored by the random bits that float quickly through the transom of my mind, bits so small they don't register to my awake self but which manage to embed themselves in some soft place in my subconscious and transform into something more.
If I'm stuck in Barack Obama's website, it's probably because I've been reading his book and thinking a lot about politics. If I'm on the deck of the Galactica, it's because the new season of BSG is long over due. If I'm dating John Cusack during one of my semi-regular "Celebrity Guest Appearance Dream Weeks", well, who doesn't want to date John Cusack?
Last night's dream makes sense. Engaged, as I am, in the epic challenge of mothers and teen age daughters, it would make perfect sense to seek the safety and security of being a child again, in the home of a mother who always knew what she was doing and never once said "Who needs a cocktail?" or that my subconscious would make my relationship with The Child only slightly less fraught by turning us into a pair of bicycling sibs.
The bacon? Again, as with Mr. Cusack, who doesn't want to date bacon?
I lifted a 2 pound package of bacon off the kitchen counter and said, "We have bacon, Mommy. And there's a pound in the fridge".
"I know", she replied, in that way mothers have who know everything because they do know everything. "And I need another pound of bacon".
I balked and she looked at me oddly. "I'm a little scared, Mom. I'm scared that you think we need 4 pounds of bacon for 3 people".
True.
I've never been one to analyze dreams too much. Dreams are nothing more than the arena where I work out my woes and encounter fantasy. They are comprised of wishes and fears, informed by what I've consciously done or experienced, read, seen or thought about. They are colored by the random bits that float quickly through the transom of my mind, bits so small they don't register to my awake self but which manage to embed themselves in some soft place in my subconscious and transform into something more.
If I'm stuck in Barack Obama's website, it's probably because I've been reading his book and thinking a lot about politics. If I'm on the deck of the Galactica, it's because the new season of BSG is long over due. If I'm dating John Cusack during one of my semi-regular "Celebrity Guest Appearance Dream Weeks", well, who doesn't want to date John Cusack?
Last night's dream makes sense. Engaged, as I am, in the epic challenge of mothers and teen age daughters, it would make perfect sense to seek the safety and security of being a child again, in the home of a mother who always knew what she was doing and never once said "Who needs a cocktail?" or that my subconscious would make my relationship with The Child only slightly less fraught by turning us into a pair of bicycling sibs.
The bacon? Again, as with Mr. Cusack, who doesn't want to date bacon?
Labels: dreams, John Cusack
cobbled together by Moi at 6:28 AM
22 thing(s)
