Different Dreams

I don’t sleep well most nights. Lately it’s been allergies preventing me from getting the deep, restful sleep. That’s lately, but there’s always something going on that prevents me from sweet slumber. The worst is when one of our wiener dogs steps directly on my nether regions while burrowing in to the bed. So sleeping is more of a theory for me at the present. But when it happens, I savor it.

The other night was one of those deep sleep nights, and I had one of those dreams that you do not want to end. I plan on sharing it with you. But let’s get a few ground rules straight. No judging. We all like to THINK we know what dreams mean and the symbology trapped within them represents, but the truth is, nobody really knows what any of things represent in the subconscious and reading into it isn’t usually accurate even by the dreamer themselves. My wife told me this and she’s a Ph. D. in stuff like that. So let’s all get off our high horses when I reveal some of this awesome dream.

My wife Wendy and I walked in to what was decorated as a spectacularly official Washington State hall. We were dressed to the nines, my wife in a gorgeous powder blue dress, with her hair done up with pretty bows and sparkly things. The party we were entering appeared to be in our honor as we strode down a red carpet. Our friends and relatives were all there congratulating us and we heard compliments flying at us from every direction. Our friends from CWU smiled at us a told us they knew we would win and my parents stood at the end of the line, proud of the both of us and our forthcoming honor. Although the hall was decorated beautifully and looked old and marbled like a state house, it was also like my old high school gymnasium.

Someone came to the podium at the far end of the hall and announce that the State of Washington’s choice for greatest married couple was none other than my wife and I. A huge screen lit up with a picture of my wife and I, though the picture was projected under a digital score display that looked like the survey board from the Family Feud. The crowd went nuts. The governor was there, though we didn’t get to see her, and several members of old bands of mine began to play as I thanked my wife for being such a great partner and the love of my life. She thanked me and we smiled at each other and began to dance with all of our friends and family surrounding us. An ice sculpture of Wendy was wheeled out and I begged everyone not to let her melt. But everyone said it was a distraction from what we really were getting and told us to turn around. There was a HUGE trophy, taller than Wendy or I behind us with a big engraving on the front with “Greatest Couple of All Time” on it together with our names. I can’t remember what it said after that, but you get the point. For some reason, everyone started singing Auld Lang Syne.

This dream made me feel absolutely spectacular. I was so in love with my wife when my eyes opened just before my alarm was to sound, I couldn’t wait to share it, but I decided to shut the alarm off before it sounded and sneak in for my morning shower as to not disturb my sleeping angel. Little did I know, while I was having the dream of our marriage being the state’s standard to measure all other marriages against, just one pillow away something very different was happening deep in the subconscious of my beloved bride.

I was dressed and ready for work and about to head downstairs to leave for work. By this time my wife was sitting up in bed. She had the dazed look in her squinty eyes of a disappointed zombie just re-animating after being dead for 20 minutes. She shot me a glare, but then shook it off slightly as if she didn’t believe what she was thinking. She threw her body back down into the pillows and began to speak:

Wendy: I had a horrible, HORRIBLE dream last night.

Steve: What happened? If it was me, you know I didn’t really do it right? It was just a dream.

Wendy: It was so real. You decided you wanted to stay married to me but you brought a girlfriend home with you.

Steve: (intrigued) Really? What was she like?

Wendy: She seemed nice, pretty but not gorgeous and wasn’t mean or anything. And you just had her around like she was a big part of your life.

Steve: Was she smart?

Wendy: Yes, I think so.

Steve: Well, see there you go, your dream wasn’t real because I’m totally through with smart chicks.

I had said that to lighten the mood, but all it did was solidify Wendy’s dream as the reality that was between us. As I saw Wendy’s expression across the room, I instinctively ducked. Wendy is not in the habit of throwing things at me, but thousands of years of male human instinct took control (say something monumentally dumb to mate, move to avoid rock/spear/shoe/dish/small appliance thrown at you).

Wendy: Why are you ducking?

Steve: …you know…just kinda…felt like…uh…ducking. What else happened? Let’s get this out so you hear how ridiculous this sounds. That’s the only way to get past this.

Wendy: I just can’t believe you had guts to bring her to our home to have dinner with me.

Steve: I didn’t.

Wendy: You did. She just sat there next to you holding your hand.

Steve: No she didn’t because she isn’t real. Try, Wendy, try to find another woman that would be willing to date me. No other smart, attractive woman would have me in the state I’m in. What else happened?

Wendy: Libby and her family were sitting at the dinner table with us and she was appalled at the fact that you brought a woman home with you to have dinner with everyone. SHE was the one that called you out and demanded that you explain yourself.

Steve: Libby, like, my former high school girlfriend Libby?

Wendy: Yes, THAT Libby. How many Libbys do you know? SHE kept demanding through the dinner to know why you would do this to me. And that made ME wonder why you had a girlfriend sitting with you at the table!

Steve: Technically I had TWO girlfriends at the table! BAM!

I ducked again.

Wendy: This isn’t funny Steve I’m still mad at you.

Steve: Well, it really is. You’re holding me responsible for actions that occurred in YOUR brain. I’m sorry, you’re not holding me responsible, my former high school girlfriend is. And now you’re awake and you believe that what you saw in your subconscious actually happened.

Wendy smiled at me.

Wendy: Yes.

Steve: Yes what?

Wendy: Yes, Libby is holding you responsible.

Steve: I will call her today and apologize for creating a spectacle with my non-existent extra-marital girlfriend at the dinner party she wasn’t at because it took place in your frontal lobe.

Wendy: You were going to start another family with her.

Steve: With Libby?

Wendy: With the woman you brought to dinner. Libby was outraged.

Steve: But YOU were calm?

Wendy: I was just trying to make everyone happy. I wasn’t very happy about it but Libby was handling the situation appropriately.

Steve: Honey, I have to go to work now, but I don’t want you to be mad at me all day for something I didn’t do, so let’s re-cap: I’m not dating anyone else and don’t want to, least of all another smart girl, nobody else would have me, we’ve never had Libby’s family over for dinner, and there’s no way you would allow me to live if you saw me with another woman.

Wendy: It felt real.

Steve: Well, look at it this way, some psychologists believe that YOU are EVERY PERSON in your dream as a separate piece of your personality. I should be outraged at you for bringing you to a dinner party, insulting yourself, the host, and you as your former girlfriend and your guest family… all of which are also you.

Wendy: Uh, no, it wasn’t like that at all. You did this Steve.

Steve: No I didn’t. But I love you and nobody else and I have to go to work. I have neither the time, nor the patience for another woman in my life. Try and have a good day. I appreciate you believing on a subconscious level that I’m attractive in any way to other women. Thank you for believing in magic.

And with that, I bounded down the steps late for work.

Please understand, my wife is a brilliant psychologist. So brilliant that at times I believe she only married me for the abnormal data.

On my 40 minute commute to work, I had plenty of time to reflect on the differences in our dreams. I thought mine was pretty great and woke up wondering how much it would cost to rent a hall and throw a dance for all our friends and family. I wondered if the governor would come and how much it would cost to get a giant trophy with our names engraved on it. But alas, most of those thoughts were punched in the abdomen unexpectedly by the idea of myself with another woman at a dinner party my wife was throwing for my old flame and her family. I certainly prefer my dream, but I was clearly getting more action in my wife’s. Some men would like that sort of thing. Steve Damm is not one of those men, and that’s the Damm truth.