Monday, January 25, 2010

"That, And Some Stuff About Cigars And A Tunnel"

This dream had pretense, which kind of makes sense.  Every now and then you have a dream where you're like "Even though this didn't happen in the dream or real life, I know that Sarah Michelle Gellar and I had been talking about having a lunch date to discuss scuba diving."

In any regard, the pretense of this dream was that a former supervisor of mine--who I'll call Eagle, due to his egaline facial features--had moved to Michigan with his wife and at some point, I'd told him that if he ever made it big and got a big house with a horse farm, he should give me a call because I was coming to live with him.  Because that's all I really want out of life, apparently, is to be a kept man on a horse farm in Michigan.  Isn't that what every little girl dreams of?

In the dream itself, I was at some function.  Nothing terribly fancy, because I was dressed in jeans and a polo.  I'd apparently been having a rough time, as in the dream I felt a bit panicky, like I was missing out on something or had to struggle to get things together--life, finances, whatever.  It was just not a very good feeling.

Eagle was there.  I think I may have been at some sort of national career gathering, albeit one that was very informal (there aren't a lot of national conferences where I'm going to be wearing something as simple as jeans and a polo).  For some reason, I was doing my best to avoid him, like I was embarrassed by my life or lack thereof.  I made sure he was on the other side of the room at all times, or that I was firmly ensconced in a conversation if he ever happened to walk by me.

The one time I let my guard down was the one time he got to me.  I was in a corner by a table, reading an email on my Blackberry when I heard his voice in my ear (yes, I am tall, but Eagle is taller):  "[Brood], can I talk to you for a second?"  I don't know why, but this simple request elicited within me a throat choked with tears that I was trying to blink off.  "I can't," was my struggled reply.

Eagle sighed, took a quick look around to make sure he'd be unnoticed, then picked me up.  Quite literally picked me up.  I wasn't cradled in his arms or tossed over his shoulder, it was more like he gave me a hug and lifted.  I didn't really protest as he took me into another room, because I knew I was being a stubborn shit.

He set me down, then sat in a recliner that happened to be there (for some reason, I feel like this incredibly informal national convention was taking place in someone's plantation house in the south).  I stood there, then felt stupid and reluctantly sit.  Eagle spoke.

"We did it."  I gave him a quizzical look.  "Cat and I got the house.  The big house in Michigan.  There are three horses."  (Cat is Eagle's wife, and I call her Cat because, well...she reminds me of a cat.  I didn't say I was deep or anything.)

"Great," I sighed.  "Your life is great.  Is there anything else you needed to tell me, or can I get back to networking?"

"There's a room for you," Eagle continued, effectively stopping my whining.  "There are actually several rooms for you, a small guest house.  I talked it over with Cat, and we want you to come live with us."  I trembled.  "We know you've been having a rough time and you're not happy with where you are.  So come to Michigan."

Okay, I have to stop for a second, because I just realized that I'm making it sound like I live in Europe and Eagle is trying to sell me on the virtues of the New World and it's utterly hilarious and ridiculous to me at this point.  Anyway, back to the dream.

I looked at Eagle, who looked different.  Somehow he looked taller, thinner, happier.  His hair was shaggy but not unkempt and in an instant, I felt closer to him than I ever had before.

In that instant, Eagle also became a replacement for my brother.  Now I know my brother, Bear (yes, okay, I call him that because he reminds me of a damn Bear, now please move past the nicknames) loves me and would most likely do anything for me--up to and including letting me stay in his house--but the fact of the matter is, I don't talk to him often (right now, the last time I spoke to him was in February after my nephew was born).  I think that when I look for relationshpis with straight male friends, I look for that brotherly connection that I never really got when I was growing up as a child.

God.  Between this and my oral fixation, Freud would have a field day with me.

1 comment:

  1. Because that's all I really want out of life, apparently, is to be a kept man on a horse farm in Michigan. Isn't that what every little girl dreams of?