Not to be confused with I have a dream. This is about an actual dream. I remember almost all of my dreams these days, as I tend to be ripped from them unceremoniously by the scream of a baby. My dreams end with the scratchy shriek of a record ripped from a record player (remember those?), but I do remember them.
In this particular dream, I was being given a tour of the prison I was about to enter for 26 years. The tour was pleasant and reminiscent of a college orientation - here is the gym, here are the medical facilities. I was to enter the prison the following morning, but first had to have some dental work done. Why was I going to prison? This part was vague, but my impression is that I had stolen a car. I realized, part way through my prison tour, that I would miss the children growing up, and I got very sad.
Then I woke up, started spending time with my children, and decided to steal a car. Ha! Just kidding!
Things to note (I'm list-prone these days, helps my feeble brain feel orderly):
1. I would have suspected that any crime I'd commit would be more violent and less materially-based than grand theft auto.
2. In my dream, I didn't consider for a moment that my husband might not still be waiting for me 26 years later. I must have a lot of faith in our marriage. Good to know.
3. I really should call the dentist. It's been awhile.
0 comments:
Post a Comment