DREAM CATCHER

dream-catcher-902508_640© 2018  Bill Murphy

The object at left is called a ‘dream catcher.’  I dream every single night, therefore I don’t want one, and don’t need one – and never have.  I’ve longed for a dream blocker to give me a restful, dreamless night of sleep.

My dreams are always vivid, action filled, in color, and with taste, touch and sound.  I usually awake tired, and expecting to see dust on my feet.

That said, here is a typical example of my night-life… as actually dreamed last night.

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The dream began as I got off a train in Boston.  I was with a group of 9 or so other people,  composed of an equal number of men and women.  I did not recognize any of them. Carol was not with me.  We were told to pair off, giving each person a ‘travel-buddy.’ After this, we would receive a few rental cars, and drive into town.  I immediately spoke up, explaining that I’d been to Boston on numerous occasions, that I knew it ‘like the back of my hand,’ and would have no problem finding my way around.  I felt rather confident about this.

Looking around, I saw that the pairing was complete… except for myself… and a young woman.  She walked over and replied, “It looks like it’s you and me Ole Buddy.”  Four of us got our rental car, a very old and worn red Nissan convertible.  The top was up, but the operating mechanism was broken – so it had to be raised and lowered manually… and then tied down with bright red wires wrapped around the rear view mirror at the top center of the windshield.  (Yes, my dreams are always this vivid with detail.)  The 4 of us got in, and I drove… because I could find the way.  I pointed out interesting things along the route.  The streets were filled with traffic, and the downtown area crowed with bustling people.  When we got to the restaurant, we parked on the street, a few doors down from our destination.  When the guy in the back seat got out, he pulled me aside and asked, “Did you tell your travel-buddy that you’re married?”  I replied, “No, it never came up!”

As my group began heading for the restaurant, I stayed behind to lock the car, because our luggage was inside.  It took a while to get ragged vehicle locked, and when I looked up, no one in our party was in sight.  All I knew was the restaurant’s name… but could not see it anywhere!  I looked for a point of reference, so I could find my way back to the car, and walked off… searching for the group and the restaurant.  Suddenly… nothing looked familiar… I felt lost!

If dreams can have chapters, it was at this point that chapter 2 on my night-story began.

The fellow who had asked if I had told my travel-buddy that I was married, came rushing up, all out of breath.  “You’ve gotten a call from home… I have to rush you back.  The New Jitney Jungle Company is re-organizing, and they want you on the board!”

I’ve said that my dreams are realistically vivid… but the realism is in the details… but not always within the correct parameters of time and of space.  The next thing I knew, I was walking across what looked like the stately campus of an ivy league university… and my traveling companion was leading us toward a large building with ivy covered walls. This was where the board of directors of the New Jitney Jungle was conducting their organizational meeting.

As we walked toward the building, I remarked that I was not wearing clothing befitting the occasion.  My companion handed me a dress shirt and dress pants, telling me that he’d picked them up for me.  I quickly dressed in the men’s room near the front of the stately building.  But I discovered that there were numerous, large bright green paint stains on the legs of the pants!  “I can’t wear these,” I remarked, and he replied that I should just keep eye-contact at eye-level and all would be OK.  (Where did the paint stains come from? I explain that later.)

As I entered the room, I immediately recognized many of the well dressed men in attendance.  Many were former executives of Jitney.  Several came to shake my hand, and welcome me.  But it all seemed somewhat forced, even a bit stand-offish.  I felt very uncomfortable.

The man in charge, who I did not recognize, came over and shook my hand.  “I’m sure you’re surprised by all this,” he began. “We’re all a bit surprised by it all.  Everything’s happened so fast!  You see, several of us were discussing Jitney, and what a shame it was what had happened to such a fine company.  So… we decided to do something about it! We’re resurrecting it!  And because of your many years and experience with the company, we want you aboard in this endeavor.”

I reminded him that my father had been on the board of the old Jitney, back in it’s hey-day of growth and prosperity.  “Yes I know,” the man said, “and I know that he’d be proud to have you, sitting with us, on the board of the New Jitney.”  I was taken aback, not really knowing what to say.  Then I spoke, telling him that I didn’t understand what I could bring to the table… that I was only involved in one area of the company, advertising.  Then he put his arm around my shoulder and explained that I had far more to give than I imagined… that I had a wealth of memories, and understanding, and passion for what Jitney was and could be again.  He said that he wanted that input around the boardroom table.

I remarked that this position would be a great honor, and yes, my Dad would be proud.  Then I remarked that the new income would given my wife and I the money to travel more, as we longed to do.

The man then stepped back.  “More money?”  Now he looked confused.  “Perhaps I need to explain something to you.  Yes, you will be paid for time on the board of the New Jitney, and you will be paid handsomely.  However, you must understand, that although you will be paid many times more per hour than you were paid when working for the old Jitney – with the New Jitney, the board meets, and therefore you will ‘work,’ only two hours per month.  Therefore… your monthly income will be far, far less than you were making years ago… far, far less.

I was confused, and flabbergasted!  I tried to explain to this gentleman who was in charge, and who would be my new boss, that this didn’t seem quite kosher.  “Let me get this straight,” I said, “You’re asking me to come into the boardroom, with a brain and heart filled with memories, experiences, and understanding of this company, and relay those years and years of memories, experiences, and understanding… and be paid only for the time sharing it with everyone?  Are you saying that you perceive my value to be in the time sharing the message… and not in the countless hours I spent in acquiring the message?”

He looked at me as if I were loco.  “That’s just the way it works. What’s just the way it is. And that’s just the way it will be.  2 hours pay, each month, every year, for the rest of your life.  Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll have to think about this,” I said, as I backed away.  It just didn’t seem right.  The fact that this ‘deal’ sounded so one-sided weighed heavily on my mind.

I began to awake.  Yes, it was weighing heavily on my mind.  Something really was weighing heavily on my mind, and on my brain… something warm… something furry.

We have two dogs.  Both sleep with us.  Tiny little Chloe was under the cover, near Carol’s feet – as always.  But during the night, 20+ pound Amy had taken up position at the extreme top of the bed… against the headboard.  She was now draped across my pillow, wedged between the headboard and my head!

As for the green paint.

I think that must have come from my early days of working full-time for Jitney.  It was 1967, and Jitney was much smaller at the time.  We had less than 30 stores.  I was hired to set-up and run the new Graphics Department, tasked with creating and printing not only store window signs, but point-of-purchase materials.  It was a messy, silk-screen printing shop.

But in my pea-brain, it was a big step up for me at the time.  Now I wasn’t just one of the worker-bees, I was the boss.  So, each day, as befitting ‘management’ I wore a TIE to work.  And yes, I also operated the large, messy, ink-filled printer.

I carefully tucked my tie into my shirt, to keeping it from dragging in the ink – but it never stayed tucked.  Never.  Soon, practically every tie on my tie-rack had multi-colored tips.  I’m sure that some of that stray ink was bright green!  I guess that’s what dreams are made of.

 

 

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