I wish my dream was a statement that started a revolutionary speech and changed culture through my humble blog, but it was a dream none-the-less, and one that certainly changed my culture on how I live my life.
In my dream (and I won’t be sharing the whole thing) my fiance grabbed me by the arm and said he wanted to introduce me to his lawyer, “he’s the best lawyer in the world”, Walter said between grabbing my arm and pushing the elevator button for up.
Now, imagine as I tell you this dream, that it’s so real, you can feel the floor squeak beneath your feet, the wall brush against your sleeve and whoosh of air tickle your hair as the elevator door opens.
I pick up the narrative after the elevator door opens with a strong whoosh, the wind of which makes me take a step back. The button that lit up was the very last button in a sea of buttons along the side of the door. Walter looked over at me, reassuringly.
We made it to the top floor. The speed we enjoyed on the elevator buckled my knees once, Walter helped me up before the doors opened. There was only one door on the top floor, no writing on the door except a simple plaque and I could only read “J.Chris-” before the door was opened. Walter turned the knob to the door, easily going through the doorway. It was at this moment I noticed my arms were full of stuff. I had a box with no lid, and it was overflowing. I tried to get the door with my shoulder, that didn’t work, kicked my foot in the door before it shut, but that didn’t help much. When I finally did get the door open, it wouldn’t open all the way because there was something behind the door. Trying not to be frustrated, I pushed hard against the door with my back, navigating the big box through the entry.
Walter didn’t help me with my box of stuff, either. The frustration started to spill up my throat. The nagging tone in my mind building an argument against Walter for when we get home.
I dropped some stuff out of my box on my way in, Walter was giving a man in jeans and a t-shirt a hug. There were three desks in the room, only two had any room because they were piled high with wrapped gifts, and both of them had computers that were older than my original pre-Pentium with a dot matrix printer that screamed throughout the whole house once it started printing as a child.
Odd, I thought. Such old computers, how does anyone get anything done with such old technology!
I turned around to pick up some of the items from my box that dropped to the floor while navigating the doorway, seeing that the door couldn’t open because there were wrapped gifts all stacked behind the door. Picking the items I dropped up, I looked at them closely. One of them was a t-shirt, purple with a green pattern in the center over the heart. In the way odd dreams go, I knew I made this shirt. I made this shirt and it was the most special shirt in the whole world. This shirt was going to change the world. Another was a book. When I flipped the book over, I saw a handsome portrait of my ex-husband on the front cover. I knew this book was special. It was so special. I helped write it. I owned this book. There were three items I picked up, each of them having a gravitating, greedy affect on me. I walked over to where I put the box down, and placed them in the box, not looking up to meet the lawyer Walter was trying to introduce me to.
When I did look up, the lawyer was just turning to go sit at the desk in the furthest corner of the room. How he made it there over all the wrapped boxes, wrapped odd shaped doohickies and stacked gift wrapped cubes. He sat at his desk, and without looking at me, stated, “[my name] I”ll be here still after you clean out your box. I won’t go anywhere. There’s a buy back downstairs.” His arm reached out, and his hand pointed down, emphasizing his point.
Walter looked at me, “Okay, you go do that, I’ll spend some time with him while you do that,” and he plunked himself right down on a leather loveseat, pulling a gift right out from under him. I felt a little dejected.
I stumbled with my box of items that kept spilling and took the elevator all the way to the bottom. When the doors opened, there was a podium like a concierge stopping post in a pricey hotel. The sign in front stated “Buy Back”. I got closer, balancing my box and I noticed there was a cash register there. A grandmotherly woman squealed and started pulling things out of my box while he tallied on his register. As she pulled out the shirt, I clung to it.
“You don’t understand, this is very, very precious…” My words were useless as she plucked it right out of my hands. Next she grabbed the book with my ex-husband’s picture on the front.”Hey! You can’t take that!” I practically yelled, I could see I was making a scene, but I didn’t care.
“Don’t you get it, I helped write that book! That’s my book. I get to keep that book. It’s all mine, I need to see that. I need to keep that! I opened it to the last page and read ‘Not happily ever after'” Then she pulled it from me and I collapsed onto the floor. My heart felt like it was beating outside of my chest.
That’s when the man who was behind the cash register podium, came around and lifted me up.
“There, it’s all done. Now, look what you all got!”
Into my hands, spilled gold coins. I put them into my pockets.
The older lady that took all of my stuff out of the box handed me my receipt.
“Doesn’t that feel lighter? Here’s your box, now there’s room for gifts.”