Dream gods

Ever have one of the dreams where you absolutely cannot do something really easy – like signing your name or making a garden salad- that in waking life you have either mastered or people of your age no longer find complicated? Then because you’re desperately trying to find the salad spinner with hungry guests waiting, you snoozed your way to getting up late.

I would feel so much better if I had been trying to make puffed pastry or a long putt. Salad is my game.

The problem with these silly dreams is that if you don’t take a moment to right size your beat up confidence ship and tell your mood where to get off, you’ll rush to the shower, pump the conditioner before the shampoo -again- and nick yourself shaving with one of the razors with the bumpers you spent extra money for to avoid these kinds of things. And then because you’re already late and band-aiding your cut, you won’t have time to practice your signature and prove the dream gods wrong.

You’ll then head to the kitchen, call it a cereal morning, and turn on the stove for coffee *with caution.*

Unattended, dreams that question your competence are sure bets for either a sucky or super productive, list making day. I usually follow the sucky path. If it’s raining like it was the morning after, it’s all but guaranteed. For me it reminds me that I’m underemployed, unable to speak French, and a creative who studied stupid accounting. Things that on most days, I’m at peace with. Most days I know that salad is not my only game.

I know, I know, it was only a dream! But I’m one of those people who a) puts a whole lot of stock in looking for signs and wonders and b) really, really needs good sleep.

You’ll then head to the car, because when you’re late everyone needs a ride, and drive *with caution.*

Moms that drive quietly with a carload of children buried in their phones are sure bets for sad feelings about shuttle service being your second game, until … a voice you recognize:

“Mom, did I tell you that you really remind me of Mrs. X.” Knowing this to his most favorite teacher of all time who is fully employed not just teaching but inspiring students and who you know speaks multiple languages, you ask: “Really? Why?” to which he replies in a tone you know has no other motive but to share his feelings, “Because you are both smart and kind and outgoing and I notice that sometimes you both like to be quiet.”

I know, I know, it was only a few words. But the words probably wouldn’t have been said unless quiet beat out grumble. And, if one of the people who knows you best sees your game and sees you doing it smartly and with kindness, then the dream gods have to be wrong.