I keep having these dreams…still. It’s like I’m not even asleep. So mundane.
I dreamt two nights ago that I went to CVS and bought the things that I needed to buy. When I woke up I felt relief that the task was complete, but the was irritated to find that it had simply been a dream and I still had to make the journey.
The only interesting part of the dream was that the girl sitting next to me on the bus had the same purse as me, and a young girl was upset with me for something. I can’t remember what.
Or the dream from a few weeks ago in which I was babysitting a young Jewish boy and eating ambrosia salad.
I had a panic attack at work today, but true to form I played it cool and made it through.
I’ve been really worried lately about having a stroke. I realize that it’s a silly fear, but recently my aunt had a stroke, and so I guess it’s been on my mind.
There I was, at the register staring at all of these people, and I could just imagine what it would feel like, that sudden weight of dread pulling me to the ground, the gravity of something real and awful forcing me down, mumbling, “I’m sorry” to everyone in line, for ruining their day, or delaying their coffee, or just in general being the center of attention.
My imagination is never that spectacular when I want it to be. And that’s what riles me so much about these weak, vapid, mundane dreams. Or, for that matter, my inability to string together a creative sentence.
I’ve been working on putting a story together, actually. Not in any tangible form, but building it a little in my head. I realize though, that I need to do research, but on what, and why? I have ideas that I forget, unable to jot them down in the middle of a busy shift, arms up to the elbow in brown dishwater.
And, if you’ve ever had a conversation with me, you might know that I have terrible recall. I just have to hope that some ember remains, waiting to pounce when I least suspect it. It’s a mauling I’d enjoy.
Still, a regular customer asked to see my writing recently, and I showed it to him. He hasn’t been in since.
Sometimes the audience is wrong, right?
Or trapped in a well.