I Don’t Want to Go to Disney World; I Don’t Want All My Dreams to Come True


I had a dream about two years ago where all my ex-boyfriends and even a date or two were having dinner together. I walked into the room and they all stopped talking. I’m MARRIED, HAPPILY, DREAMSTATE! Gah!

I had another one where my house burned down and a tsunami was the only thing that would put it out.

I’ve dreamed about my childhood home constantly.

I’ve dreamed about falling off a cliff.

I’ve dreamed about my teeth falling out.

I’ve dreamed about home invasions and child abductions.

I’ve dreamed that old flames I had rejected me again.

I’ve dreamed, nightmares actually, of old dates who were bad (extremely bad) kissers were coming in for another one.

I’ve dreamed that I am drowning.

I’ve dreamed that I can’t find anything and everyone is laughing at me.

I’ve dreamed that I live on the beach and do nothing.  That one… that’s not so bad actually, except that it was more like a deserted island.

I’ve dreamed that George Washington has eaten all our food and that he had very nice dental implants.

I’ve dreamed that Keanu Reeves asked me to be in his band, and when I got there it was only because I could fit in the medieval costume  and they wanted me to lip-sync (clearly a “Brady Bunch”/Johnny Bravo suit “Bill & Ted’s Great Adventure” “Singin’ in the Rain” mash-up)

I’ve dreamed that I’ve wrecked our car and my children can’t be found.

I’ve dreamed that George Clooney is my pal, my bud and we just hang out. Right.

I’ve dreamed that my hair is blond and short and it feels so real that when I wake up, I’m actually a little confused.

I’ve dreamed that Alec Baldwin and I are playing tennis (not code for anything else) and that I can’t hit the ball because my racket has no strings.

I’ve dreamed that Barack Obama was my bartender and I was his manager.

The thing is: I’ve dreamed a whole bunch of random things. Why would I want to drive a thousand miles and pay someone dressed in a Cinderella costume to make them all come true?

I’ll hang here, just this side north of reality between uneventful and random strangeness. Hang a left when you get to the floating castle and you’ve hit the cliffs of insanity. I’ll be the one in the cape.

I’m into week three of Camp NaNoWriMo and my head is coming off. My protagonist is having her hair done with a new stylist after having an unfortunate run-in with a friend turned foe and so … now what? I have to get her back on the couch with her therapist so we can concentrate on working on our invisible assets as well as our visible ones. The thing is … she doesn’t want to… and neither do I. I wrote about something entirely different this morning; a completely new direction and a totally different genre. It just poured out of me and it was so fun. But my protagonist Miriam and I will get back to the couch and into growth. As a friend said, “Get back to your original story and finish. It’s only 3K more and then you can move on to the new and seductive story slut seducing you.”

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Escape route?

Ok, this is weird: I just hit post and WordPress gives you these neato inspired thoughts: “Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.” –Marsha Norman:

Thank you.

About Grass Oil by Molly Field

follow me on twitter @mollyfieldtweet. i'm working on a memoir and i've written two books thus unpublished because i'm a scaredy cat. i hail from a Eugene O'Neill play and an Augusten Burroughs novel but i'm a married, sober straight mom. i write about parenting, mindfulness, irony, personal growth and other mysteries vividly with a bit of humor. "Grass Oil" comes from my son's description of dinner i made one night. the content of the blog is random, simple, funny and clever. stop by, it would be nice to get to know you. :)

2 responses »

    • Ha? I remember my dreams so vividly. Most of them are totally random and completely benign, but some of them are scary. The thing is though, I don’t want any of them to come true. The scary ones are really scary, like the home invasion ones, I think those are from being robbed so often in bflo… I had my bike stolen twice. (my parents’ reactions didn’t help though…)

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