Slice of a Dream

I had a strangely disjointed dream today, borne of oversleeping to an unusual 8 hours. Usually I sleep 3 or 4 with no trouble or regrets. My dreams are typically very linear & storylike, generally resuming like a videotape if I should happen to be awoken by the upstairs neighbors' dog (they let it race around in circles all day. From the incredible noise it makes, it must be a golden retriever) or the telephone, which rings regularly from Jeff's bill collector's for his 10-year old student loan. This one...was about living with my mother. I don't dream about her often. I try not to think about what I went through at her hands over the years for the most part, and my dreams respect that by sparing me the nightmares.

This one wasn't a nightmare, however...which surprised me. It was fairly casual, with me as I am now living in an apartment that looked like it was furnished partially by The Bombay Company and Banana Republic. I think she lived with me; I can't think of any other reason she would be there all the time. In the dream, I was fretting over calling out to work at my old job at Borders, where I worked for 5 years under the most evil boss in history. He was egotistical, condescending, and seemed to take pleasure in telling me that no matter how hard I worked as the Office Manager, he would never do more than give me more responsibility. It wasn't only me. During my tenure at the store I observed at least 2 other female managers crouched in offices and backrooms sobbing because of something he'd done or said. More than 5 people, after complaining futilely to upper management transferred out of the store. It was obvious to the rest of the staff why, since they were lateral transfers with no promotions in sight, and no one was moving out of the area. Sad, no?

I was the only one to ever write to the corporate office and talk to a real Human Resources official about him. I logged a complaint, and the manager got written up. Ohhh, it wasn't over there. Now he had it in for me. I began to get written up for even the smallest foible. Things no one had ever been written up for before. While everyone else had an unlimited number of times they were allowed to forget to punch in...I was only allowed once every 2 weeks. If I forgot, as I sometimes did because I was a manager and had to shut the store alarm off and wait by the door to let people in; I'd get written up. If a 10-minute break slipped into 11 minutes, he'd come after me. Etc, etc. I couldn't even transfer out of the store due to a stipulation that one couldn't do so if there were outstanding writeups that were less than 6 months old. I was trapped. The man wanted me fired. Eventually he got his wish.

As for the dream: I paced, trying to remember how many writeups I had, and could I afford to call out again? My mother ignored me, she was planning something for my sisters. Jeff popped up out of nowhere, and as he also worked at Borders (he still does) I asked him his opinion. He couldn't help. I listened to my mind, which for some reason kept spouting at first what I thought was either song lyrics or poetry. I finally realized what it was, and looked to my mother with suspicion. But she was still immured in her project. It was scripture. 1 Corinthians 13:11-12, to be exact. It said:

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Then I awoke. Strange, no? I'd always liked that chapter in the bible, for what is said about love and faith. It can't really even be called entirely religious, even, since one verse even says that without love, faith means nothing. Funny how dreams are, reminding you of things you thought you'd forgotten. Perhaps my mind knew what my heart needed to remember this time.



1 Corinthians 13

1If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

4Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. 11When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. 12Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.