[/caption]My sister Molly sent the family an email that read:
Last night I dreamed that I had saved my dream as the wrong file type and I couldn’t open it.
First, I must express my admiration of a dream so terse and still so meaningful. It makes my recurring dream of being lost on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston and knowing I need to walk the 90 miles home in the dark seem... well, rather stale.
More to the point, I think my sister just had the ultimate "I'm stressed and not exactly having the time of my life" dream that deserves the 2009 Great Recession Award.*
(*All credit for the term "Great Recession" is ceded to my older son, Zach.)
When I get stressed, I misplace credit cards, keys and other everyday necessities. Sometimes I misplace them in restaurants or public restrooms, which is unfortunate. My sister, apparently, mis-saves dream files.
When I get stressed, I can lose touch with my aspirations, my joys and my confidence. My sister can't even dream her damn dream.
On the other hand, don't you think the mind is a wonderful thing? What a creative way for her brain to say, "Hey kid, you could use some downtime and fun, because life is taking you away from yourself."
May she open her next dream file with ease.
