I had a dream when I was napping in which I was in charge of a marketing meeting. The attendees were all women. The meeting was conference room in which one wall was like kitchen. The other main character was Stella. Stella was a woman of her forties. Black hair, almost short, she smiled a lot. She’s a blogger and a travel agent. She had moved cross country to Austin. When she was finally settled, like a prodigal daughter, she came back. She said my blog was like coming home.
In my dream Stella was wearing a micro-mini skirt. Despite how well it suited her, it was inappropriate for the work situation in which she wore it. Somehow, Stella had drunk too much Kahlua and − like the rest of the women − was too intent on fixing her lunch and chatting than in attending to the meeting.
Lunches prepared, they sat and yet the chatting continued, I said, "Excuse me." Three times. It was like a fairy −three times. They stopped and looked. I said, "We'll have this meeting again tomorrow, perhaps by then you can remember what people do during a business meeting.
Then I asked Stella to come with me. I thought that we might talk her about the Kahlua and her micro-mini skirt. She couldn't walk well. I held her arm as we moved slowly to some stairs
On the way, I asked three questions, and she answer each of them.
1. You're drunk on Kahlua at work, aren't you? Yes.
2. This isn't the first time, is it? No
3. Do you really want to lose your job this way? No.
The stairs were filled with white Formica-topped children’s-school desks, stacked like loose stairs up the actual stairs. I knew she wouldn’t be able to negotiate them so I picked her up and carried her like someone might carry a four year old.
I said, "Don't worry. I know I can do this."
I carefully found my footing, knowing and riding when desks shifted their weight.
The stairway even turned left once. It was 18 stairs – tall, steep, and narrow – the sort of narrow that puts both the side walls close enough to lay palms flat if you put your arms out − like the stairway to my doctor's office, that I went to when I had mononucleosis in 5th grade. And like that stairway at the bottom the door opened to the outside, the sidewalk and daylight.
That's when I put her down and woke up.
I was thinking calmly that I had had a "nice" dream.
I’ve thought about it a lot since then.
−me strauss Letting me be
In my dream Stella was wearing a micro-mini skirt. Despite how well it suited her, it was inappropriate for the work situation in which she wore it. Somehow, Stella had drunk too much Kahlua and − like the rest of the women − was too intent on fixing her lunch and chatting than in attending to the meeting.
Lunches prepared, they sat and yet the chatting continued, I said, "Excuse me." Three times. It was like a fairy −three times. They stopped and looked. I said, "We'll have this meeting again tomorrow, perhaps by then you can remember what people do during a business meeting.
Then I asked Stella to come with me. I thought that we might talk her about the Kahlua and her micro-mini skirt. She couldn't walk well. I held her arm as we moved slowly to some stairs
On the way, I asked three questions, and she answer each of them.
1. You're drunk on Kahlua at work, aren't you? Yes.
2. This isn't the first time, is it? No
3. Do you really want to lose your job this way? No.
The stairs were filled with white Formica-topped children’s-school desks, stacked like loose stairs up the actual stairs. I knew she wouldn’t be able to negotiate them so I picked her up and carried her like someone might carry a four year old.
I said, "Don't worry. I know I can do this."
I carefully found my footing, knowing and riding when desks shifted their weight.
The stairway even turned left once. It was 18 stairs – tall, steep, and narrow – the sort of narrow that puts both the side walls close enough to lay palms flat if you put your arms out − like the stairway to my doctor's office, that I went to when I had mononucleosis in 5th grade. And like that stairway at the bottom the door opened to the outside, the sidewalk and daylight.
That's when I put her down and woke up.
I was thinking calmly that I had had a "nice" dream.
I’ve thought about it a lot since then.
−me strauss Letting me be
2 comments:
Liz, your dream makes me think about how sometimes I need to pick up those parts that don't / can't work anymore or patterns that aren't healthy and take them out into the daylight and look at them all over again.
Hi Dawn,
What a meaningful insight you bring to my dream! Thank you. I'll be thinking about that all day today, feeling good that I'm growing in the right directions.
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