Sunday, October 20, 2019

ANOTHER DREAM...

(One to avoid if you happen to be squeamish. It has one kind of nasty graphic moment...)

I dreamt I woke up in a strange city, in a large hotel room--more a single level house, really, than a hotel. Ellie was also there, with a woman of our acquaintance. I was horribly constipated. I was looking for a suppository to help out but was unable to find one, our friend offered me a toothpaste-like tube she said would have the same effect. In attempting to insert a dab of it with a finger, I came in contact with the source of my problem, and pulled out a still-intact teabag, complete with string and tag.

I realized I would be late for work and needed a shower. There was a bathroom, but our friend was occupying it so I had to make do with the other shower that was available. It was placed immediately over my side of the bed, with one of those old-fashioned heads that look like a small flying saucer. The water came out in mostly drips, but I still worried about the pillows and the bedsheets getting soaked. I wondered why the shower had been so misplaced and worried, too, about standing naked on the bed while our friend was in the room. My concern was compounded by the arrival of a maid who was to clean the room and who had caustic comments about the situation.

It was time to leave for work. I was working as a teacher at a local grammar school--as I had in fact done years before, in Nova Scotia, Canada. I dreaded having to go back. I had no idea about my teaching schedule, or even the subjects I was supposed to teach. Besides, I had been on vacation, or skipping classes, for way too long. I had been a lazy and ineffective teacher anyway. I had never bothered to show up in time for morning assembly, and my colleagues thought little of me. The headmaster was the Catholic priest (who had actually been president at a university where I served for a while as Dean). If I wanted to quit the job, as I so much wanted, I would have to call and let him know.

No use pretending, I simply could not bring myself to go back. I got on my knees and begged Ellie to understand that I would have to quit. All I wanted was the time to devote to the trilogy I was (am, actually) writing. But where would the money come from, to support us? It would be a huge risk, a leap into the unknown. (It was the risk I took, "in real life", more than 30 years ago, when I left academia, and decided to become the writer I was always supposed to be. That turned out okay, I haven't had a job since 1986. That's 33 years!)

I don't remember actually making the call in my dream, but I remember clearly the enormous sense of relief when I realized I did not have to go back to my teaching job. Instead, we left the hotel in search of a place for breakfast.

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