After finishing the first draft of something new and shiny that I sent my agent around midnight, I fell fast asleep last night. Apparently, I didn’t even hear Robie throwing to the ground a watch he’d conquered on the dresser, along with its box. While I wear earplugs, they don’t preclude noises like that.
The dream images were striking to say the least. After flying around a campus — I’d found a water bottle that defied gravity and held on — I entered an office. Only one other colleague was still there, it was so late. I seldom had to visit the office because I was working remotely. But there I was, strolling around, when I found one of my stories printed out on the desk of a male colleague, with some brutal criticism written all over it. One of the criticisms was that I had a “pathetic vocabulary” (yes, I remember reading this, which in and of itself breaks dream rules).
The fellow was so proud of his critique that he’d had it replicated onto greeting cards with the image of a couple getting married on it, green grass and church in the background. The bride was looking away, smiling as she gathered up her voluminous skirts. In one case, he’d had the same image and words transposed onto a sort of canvas that covered a wooden block the size of a large paperback.
I was appalled.
I asked the guy in the office. “Where is this fellow now?” The guy replied that he didn’t know but that the fellow had spread this criticism far and wide amongst the other employees.
That’s when I picked up a Sharpee and wrote on not just the story printout, but on the canvas print: “Opinions are like assholes; everyone’s got one. And while you’re certainly entitled to yours, if you continue this campaign of disparagement in the office, I’ll see you in HR with your ‘pathetic’ artwork, you jackass. Because your obvious jealousy is disturbing in a lot of ways you don’t mean it to be.”
I then realized this guy was so deeply disturbed that he would probably start stalking me, and I immediately regretted taking the matter into my own hands.
It was only after I woke up that I realized that I’d done everything with words in dreams I was not supposed to be able to do — read, write, remember.
Ah, well. Rule breaking is over for me this morning. Onto Uncle Walt’s.