Dreaming My Dreams

With the one week countdown upon me like a pair of skinny jeans on a fat chick (suffocating) I had a terrific dream last night. It was spring and I was flying over my old stomping grounds in PIttsburgh, passing over the Cathedral and the lawns while people far below me played games and walked along. It was so freeing, so joyful. It made me long to be back there, not just in PIttsburgh, but in that time of my life when possibilities where mine to control and everything was fresh and new. In my experience, whenever I have a dream where I'm flying it usually means that I've subconsciously freed myself of some binding thing. So that thought along put a smile on my face when I woke up this morning. I also recall ending up in the air holding a role of masking tape. Could be a symbol of longevity, that something good thing in my life will stick around...could also be that Dave had asked me to pick up some masking tape for him a few days ago and I forgot to do it.



At the end of my dream I was in the back neighborhoods of Oakland, the streets I knew so well. I was walking up a hill, not a jaunty little hill, mind you, but quite a steep and challenging hill. Looking around I recognized so many things from my past. I am amazed how my brain can conjure such details as the designs on sidewalks and brick facades of apartment buildings from 12 years ago. I digress. I get to the top of the hill and in front of me to my left is a 5 story red brick apartment building from which hangs a huge yellow banner. The banner is some kind of construction paper and is obviously homemade with markers. It reads: "aaaaahhhhhh! It's [name obscured] 29th birthday!" So now I've gone from joyful and free to indignant and pissed. How dare someone celebrate their 29th birthday. How ridiculous! 29 is nothing to celebrate! It's the birthday to follow that is the big number, the celebratory decade.

So I rip down the banner which turns to the size of a poster board in my hands and I wad it up and continue down the street.

The moral of the story escapes me. Perhaps I hold a secret grudge toward younger women...even those who only have a year's advantage. Maybe I fear the celebration of my own birthday. Could be I just have my panties all in a bunch for no good reason and that's what's coming out in my muddled-up dreams.

One.
More.
Week.