Again following the suggestion of wordpress, I’ll write about my dream jobs.
1. Being trapped in my old high school and having to break out of gym class or be trampled by a herd of volleyball players, all much taller and more athletic than me. I guess running with asthma, then, is the job there.
2. Having to learn how to use my wings. Long black and sometimes silver feathers grow out of my hands and arms. Every flying dream is different, but lately it seems I have to re-learn how to use my wings, even how to get off the ground. My body is heavy, heavier than usual in these dreams. Years ago, however, flying was very natural.
3. A responsibility I am often given is the exhausting care of small babies and children. Frequently there are twin infants or wild children and both groups are extremely hard to protect. Often I give them little gifts, like rainbow colored-watches, Roman coins or seed pearls. For a while I thought these dreams were just loud manifestations of my biological clock, but now I think the babies, all fragile and full of promise, represent my creative self. The most vulnerable part of my whole, that which needs to be protected.
4. This last job employs me almost every night, for moments or weeks on end. It is the position of observer. Usually during a war, protest, or crime of passion. Atrocities are committed, people kill each other and I watch, seen or unseen. Look and don’t speak. Look and can’t speak. Look away, then some terrible sound calls me back.
I didn’t mean to end on such a down note but I am now too tired to revise and it’s almost time to sign on for one or all of these jobs. Wish me luck.