REFLECTIONS: I hope not all of my dreams come true

Dreams.

Eleanor Roosevelt once said “The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”

If that’s true, I’m truly screwed.

I dream a lot.

Thank God a portion of those never come true … at least in this world.

And whoever said, “May all your dreams come true” sure never resided in MY dreams … otherwise he’d be orange, have three claws, two heads, be 4 feet tall, dripping fangs and be sporting a long green tail with a razor tip.  And THAT just describes the offspring.

Dreams.

I have ‘em.   

A lot of ‘em. 

I can wake up with a smile on my face, I can wake up in a cold sweat and I can wake up on the floor with a Charley horse, after some critter from nether-nether land told me to jump off a cliff …and I did.

I’ve been chased by a three-toed cyclops.

I’ve been staked out alive on a mountaintop by an ex-wife brandishing a swarm of fire ants clinging to a stick and slowly descending onto my nose.

And I’ve lived in luxury in a 214 room house with grapes and maids all in a row, after slaying the House of Hundred Bad Spirits the Underworld God of Underwear sent to destroy me.

Talk about bazaar!

Someone once said that dreams were just that:  What you wanted to be or do … but never quite made the plunge.

And that’s even scarier.

Now, some things I can understand.

I remember once in college when I walked into the Michigan Daily… the student newspaper …and proceeded to destroy the front page of type when I advertently moved the full page from one place to another… without checking to see if it was locked in place and ready for transportation.

It wasn’t. 

It went on the floor … all of it.   

It was 20 minutes before presstime.  (And it had taken over two hours to set up.)

I can vividly recall half the press crew chasing me out of the pressroom onto South State Street amid shouts of Kill! Maim him! (And a few other nasty unthinkables!)

I dreamt about it that night … in vivid Technicolor. I saw Mike, the head press man, leaning over and ready to skewer me with a sharpened pencil and a chewed eraser. I woke up in a drenching sweat. I pinched myself.  And although I was banished from the pressroom, I was still alive. 

Whew!

Now THAT I can truly relate to.

(And maybe the one with the ex-wife.)

But the rest of this stuff … where does it come from?

Is there some friendly critter hiding in the hidden coffers of one’s mind, just poking its little head out every now and then and saying it’s time to give the ‘ol boy a jolt?   

And then he turns the old roulette wheel and wherever it stops: that’s your destined dream for the night?

Let’s see:

(1) He’s had a good day. Let’s screw it up with the purple goober eater.

(2) He’s really sure of himself…a bit over confident! Let’s see if he’s good at jumping out of airplane …without a parachute.

(3) He and his wife are REALLY having a good time.  Let’s throw in a No. 10 ringer from the past and one for her too!

(4) He’s had a miserable day so (a) let’s flip a coin and give him a good dream or (b) let’s REALLY build on his day and send him into a tailspin.

‘Ya know…this really bears thinking through.

Disney once said that if you can dream it, you can do it.

I don’t think Walt ever looked at my dreams.

Otherwise, the Cinderella Castle would likely be called the Gremlin’s Keep.

See, I’m a nice guy … but a bit confused.

I don’t quite understand where my dreams are coming from … at least the scary ones.

I can relate to the nice ones, ‘cause I wake up all nice, cozy and cuddly.

On the flip side, when I scream in the middle of the night because I’m losing the race with the nighttime jeebies and I flip out of bed and land on Elsa, who howls in anguish and bolts from the room … and wife Susan looks up in alarm … makes sure Elsa is OK (not me) … and goes back to slumberland … I REALLY wonder if  there’s a dark side trying to wipe me off the earth.

I mean … let’s look at it realistically… it IS possible.

The other night we had an incredible evening. We were in our island retreat of St. Barths … had a fantastic evening with Grant and Mary Blakely, good Big Rapids friends, and we had just spent a wonderful evening with a group of friends at their rental home overlooking the picturesque town of Gustavia.

I mean … what more could one ask for?

Good friends. 

Good wine. 

Good conversation. 

Good everything.

Then came nighttime.

And NO … I did not have that much to drink … two glasses of wine.

And the dream began … and grew … and grew … and encompassed me.

I was sitting alone on the beach … enjoying the view (this is a topless beach ya see) … and suddenly the waves parted and this huge green woman came out of the surf, her head like Medusa, with snakes squirming around and about…and she looked at me and said YOU … you’re coming with me.   

And the snakes began to throb and undulate, reaching out to me.  I panicked…and the creature grabbed me and dragged me into the ocean as all the beautiful women on the beach danced around and sang “Kumbaya.”

Now … is that weird or not?   Is there a hidden message there? 

And … am I sure I want to know what it is?

See what I mean?

If you have any ideas, email me … 

Confused@dreamlessnites.com.

Thanks for listening.

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