Another set of weird dreams is plaguing me, making my nights just as bizarre as my days. (Which are neither “all that” nor a “bag of chips.”)
I dreamed I was traveling with my first roommate. She wouldn’t tell me where we were, only letting me take guesses based on architecture. (My iPhone and therefore ability to research on the Internet were taken away.)
We were in what I believe was Alaska (no, I couldn’t see Russia) when we were joined by a motley crew of men I, ahem, *knew* one way or another from college.
I had to laugh — the neurotic hypochondriac of the bunch came in and prattled on endlessly about his conditions, pretty much to himself. The one who wanted to be a comedian told jokes to himself. And another one did whatever his habit was, to himself. (I don’t remember anything other than leaving at that point.)
The funny part was they were all sitting at a table, existing together but not noticing that the other guy wasn’t paying an ounce of attention to him.
It was kind of like I was there!
That gave me a good giggle and a GREAT insight … that I could very well leave and put someone else in my place, and nobody would even notice the difference.
Meanwhile my friend and I went out photographing glaciers and enjoying the quiet.
These days, I find myself remembering why I came to Florida. It wasn’t that the people doing the hiring were impressive. I didn’t even care to impress them. That I got a job offer was downright baffling. That I TOOK it is suddenly so very understandable, though.
Today is the three-year anniversary (that word seems so inappropriate) of a brand-new friend passing away suddenly in her mid-20s. Boy did that rattle me. I think it’s a big reason why I left my old life behind in such a hurry. (That and being sick of only being lauded for my lightning-speed Swahili-to-English editing jobs.)
I was so tired of my life then. I probably would have switched places with our bright, beautiful and charismatic friend, would only the universe have asked. I’m not saying it’s much better given that my being a walking Rosetta Stone for the Swahili-to-English set is pretty much what’s paying the rent these days.
But it does come as a stark reminder that these days are so precious and finite. And if what I really want to do is market my friends’ businesses in exchange for a little piece of unincorporated land in Monroe County (the Keys), then I’d better hop right to that. (Or, waddle, these days.)
Mom hears me hollering at the computer all day. I told her I only have two Rosetta Stone assignments right now — you missed the days when that number exceeded 10.
All that said, it’s looking like the time has come around again for another leap of faith.
And our heroine has failed enough in the last two years that this one should be easier than most to make. But the stakes are much higher — I at least had people, places and things to run back to. Next time around, it’s full-steam-ahead or full-on-faceplant.
Oh, hell. I know what I am going to do. I have the “why.” And I’ll figure out the “how” later, like I always do…