Answers in Dream World that make you go hmmmm…..


                             Do I look like an Eskimo to you?
           (What it feels like to emerge from Dream World.)

One of the most disturbing features about having a dream that answers your question is how real the tastes, scents, sights, and sounds seem to be.  Equally disturbing is how quickly that fleeting AHA! moment dissipates into nothingness the split second your eyes pop open to find there’s a dog staring you in the face.

Did you ever feel like your purpose in life was to be the flea that irritates the dog on that one part of the back he can’t scratch, or the tick that’s drawing sustenance from the life blood of a hemorrhoid? Did you ever feel like you’re the kid who said, “The Emperor has no clothes,” with no clue that your last thought would be, “Why is that man swinging a sword at my neck?”

That’s how I was feeling when my head hit the pillow at 10pm.  It’s now around 3am, mere minutes after serving as the main character in a Dream World action movie. Sure, it was fun meeting my ancestors, but did I have to endure being chased into a casino by a guy who wanted me dead?  Is there a law in Dream World that says I have to stay in one of those little strip motels when I visit? At the very least they could offer one of those vibrating beds you have to put a quarter into to use.

Worse yet…why deliver the answer in a casino and then tell me I’m not there to play the nickle poker machines?

“You must lay low–it is our way,” A woman said, her Inuit face a far cry from my Euro-mutt heritage.

The answer sunk a spear into the heart of my question–the one on my mind when my head hit the pillow:

  • Why do I feel as if I can’t find home?

If I’m going to be given an answer that clear, why does it have to be one I can only fulfill by having a stroke that renders me comatose?

As you can imagine, her answer left me with a few more questions: How does an unpublished writer with a blog lay low? (Is this a rhetorical question, or what?) How far back do you have to go to find Inuit ancestors if your eyes couldn’t be bluer and your skin couldn’t be whiter? (Possibly when they were hunting dinosaurs instead of seals.)

It’s no wonder the only place I feel remotely at home is in front of my computer listening to 5 dogs snore as I type.