strangely vivid dreams

we've been keeping irregular sleep hours, patrick and i, as evidenced by this 4 a.m. blogging. The end result has been weird dreams so tangible and pointless they seem oddly symbolic.

The night before last, I dreamt we visited the in-laws and Nic was sitting on the floor of her bedroom watching TV. When asked why her sleigh bed was absent she replied "Oh, dad helped me move it into Chris's (her boyfriend's) apartment."

Patrick dreamt he was watching a diapered kid running around playing and then stop, half-squat for a few seconds, and then run off. To the kid: "Uh, did you need to poop?" To adults in the area, one of whom might be the parent: "I think that kid needs to be changed." To himself, upon waking: "I can't believe i had a dream about a kid taking a shit in his pants."

Last night I dreamt that my former store manager was my college teacher, and he told me to sit up before I fell asleep. I was slumped in my chair, head leaned far back against the back of the seat, and I could not move. Three of my classmates helped me right myself. He was picking on me because my iPod was on my desk, and I ended up having to change tampons.

Patrick dreamt he ate a shoe.

~*~*~*

Patrick's best friend has snagged what he terms a "dream job". Patrick asked me to explain, probably since i've worked as a telemarketer before -- PLEASE DON"T HATE ME! It was in the Philippines, it was part-time work, and all i was selling was hotel club memberships during office hours. i was NOT calling people in the middle of dinner to answer surveys on personal care products. Anyway. I got to dress up nicely, romance the phone for a few hours, and eat lunch at the Hyatt for free. I was overpaid, but I still wouldn't call it a dream job.

Now I'm wondering what I would term a dream job. Besides the fictitious one that everyone hopes for, where you don't have to do anything and a paycheck deposit shows up in your checking account every two weeks. Although come to think of it, I know of a few people who do just that...

To anyone who asks, I'd say it's a job you'd do for free. For it to be meaningful, it should be aligned with your core values, with what you feel is important to you.

Things I do for free: Answer phones, dispense advice, sing, write, cook, google.

But in the back of my mind is a quiet wish. Days filled with children and pets, a home of laughter and sunshine. An appointed hour every day, devoted to me and the perfection of my craft. And at the end of the week, a dark hall, hushed silence, an empty stage. I step into the light and begin to sing. And my voice is carried onto the wind, lifted up beyond my own promise, soaring towards God.

When the music ends, the audience erupts in applause, showers of roses, whistles and cheers. "Brava!" And the faces of my husband and children are right there amongst them, faces beaming with love and pride.

The dream is so real I cannot help but keep it. And yet it is so far removed from the life i live, I cannot help but grieve.