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Alltop, confirmation that I kick ass

Author: toni

~ 01/19/10


So last night I had this dream. I was at the grocery store and I saw a register with no line. I know, only in a dream, right? Anyway, I smoothly and expertly drove my cart into it and began unloading my groceries. The CLERK looked at me and said,” You got here in the nick of time.” He indicated behind me and I looked. And there was a line of people at least 50 deep.  At which point I felt such an amazing sense of pride that I had been so efficient (although I don’t know how getting to a line first made me efficient. But it was a dream, so I went with it).  I continued unloading my groceries onto the belt and literally beamed with that overpowering sense of pride.

Then I woke up and as that feeling of  pride slowly dissipated, another feeling came over me. One of horror… mixed with a little bit of disgust. What the heck kind of dream was that?!

I mean, I used to have AMAZING DREAMS. Dreams with elaborate storylines and vivid imagery. In color even. Dreams about a post-apocalyptic Earth, still in the throes of turmoil. You know, A Boy and His Dog and Mad Max kind of place.  Danger lurking everywhere making survival tough. UNLESS you had the wit and wiles to survive it. Which, naturally, I did, it being MY dream and all.  And not only did I survive in a very Sarah Connor T2 sort of way, but I helped others survive, too. Along the way I would take time out to save what was left of the world and help bring it back to order. Because see, I could fight off the madmen (and let’s face it, there are ALWAYS madmen in such scenarios). Madmen with names like the Colonel and Little Psycho – drunk on the newfound lawlessness of a civilization thrown into chaos AND who, if it were a movie instead of my dream would be played by Dennis Hopper or that guy who played the crazy Nazi in Inglorious Basterds. So in my dreams, I would fight off these madmen while at the same time bringing the ragtag band of survivors together to start civilization anew. And better, of course.

I mean it was exciting and inspiring stuff. We’re talking the stuff of which Roland Emmerich would be in awe. And now my accomplishments in my dreams are getting in the grocery line first? WHAT THE HECK?!

I know. As Freud would say, “Sometimes a grocery line is just a grocery line.” But I’ve always been more in Jung’s camp. Because truthfully, don’t our dreams reflect our inner selves? And if so, does this mean that I have gone from a leader to… a housewife? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But really. THIS is what I find satisfaction in now? Getting in a grocery line first? Geez.

Then I think about it and I think, you know… some of the lines in the stores ARE really long. And aren’t we all thrilled whenever we can avoid them? Come on. Admit it. I will. I’M THRILLED WHEN I CAN AVOID THEM.

Okay,  so I’m no longer dreaming about saving the world. But maybe I’m getting satisfaction out of saving something equally as precious… TIME. Because as you get older and you have less of it to waste, you kind of realize the importance of it.  And you realize that every minute you save is a minute you can spend with your friends, your family, doing what you love.

So I guess instead of lamenting the loss of my grander dreams, I’ll celebrate the shifting of my priorities to the more realistic and, yes I’ll say it, more important ones.

And as I think about it, maybe June Cleaver didn’t become a beloved icon because she was the perfect mom and wore pearls while basting a pot roast. Maybe it was because she had her priorities straight.

That’s how I’m gonna rationalize the dream anyhow.

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  1. Please let’s not start basing our priorities on our dreams. I rarely can remember mine in the first place. If it’s a time of stress, I have a reoccurring one in which I’m trapped in the maze of back stockrooms of Nordstrom, with no way out. Let’s not try and decipher that one.
    Lately, however, my dreams have been unbelievably vivid. I owe it to my latest diet plan in which I am forced to eat Military MRE’s. I’ve been dreaming of food. Last night, in my head, I sat down at a delightful outdoor cafe (the kind with twinkly lights and charming waitstaff) to have perfectly grilled salmon, roasted asparagus, and a heaping bowl of cheesiest, gooiest, mushroom and fennel risotto. Wonder what Freud would say about that. Bon Appetit?

    Comment by mommymarchbanks — January 21, 2010 @ 9:38 am

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