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Dream elements: 11.28.14

November 28, 2014

I had 2 excellent, complicated dreams yesterday, but I don’t have time to deal with them as they deserve today, and I don’t know when I will have time.


Spouse went to bed early last night, and I went to bed late. My hope was to wake up late, with a dream, with Spouse long-gone to work, so I could bound out of bed and get my morning off to a great start. Instead, I woke up early, with a dream, stayed in bed waiting ever more desperately for him to go to work. Listened to him puttering around making noise for the next two and a half hours, omg. By the time he left, I was ready to strangle somebody.


I’m sitting at a large square table (white laminate top), for a “business-networking” type of event. There are around 10 other people there – (what I presume are) men and women both. By careful listening and observing before anything officially begins, I decide that 2 women across from me seem the most interesting. One is short and dark-haired, in some kind of creative field; the other has blonde curly hair, is gregarious. They seem to at least know each other.

The CEO calls the meeting to order. He passes around blank sheets of ivory-colored perforated business card stock (paper), and asks each of us to handwrite our “business card information” into 1 blank rectangle. (I wonder why he doesn’t just have us hand in one of the business cards we undoubtedly brought with us.) When the sheet gets to me, I use black ink to write my name, then, on auto-pilot, I write “IDEM-OWQ”, before scratching it out. [In the dream, I have just left my job at IDEM, and don’t actually know what I’ll be doing next.] I decide to not try to fill in something clever; my rectangle just has my name as I hand the sheet on to the person at my right.

The CEO receives the sheet back, separates the cards, and hands them out in huge groups. I get a selection of 30 or so, which are now glossy and highly-decorated in black and jewel tones on the flip side. I make a big show of shuffling several times, playing around, before picking one.

The card I picked is matte dusty-grey-black, with dark red lettering. Before turning it over to see whom it belongs to, I say a quick prayer under my breath that it’ll be someone I liked. And it is! The card for the dark-haired woman in a creative field reads “Mary X, Costumer”.

[We were supposed to meet up with the people whose cards we received, but before that happened, I woke up.]


When I had just left IDEM-OWQ, and in truth, didn’t know what I was going to do next, it was June, 2007. Anything seemed possible, in a way it hadn’t before, and . . . hasn’t since. Until now.

Can’t help but wonder at the timing of this dream: for the next several days, I’ll be attending a thing full of professionals in an area I’m very interested in (but not sure I myself want to become a professional in).

I’m not thinking of it as “networking” though; I want to learn stuff.

In the dream, leaving the space for job title and employer blank, I didn’t feel inferior to everyone else. That’s a change. The only thing that mattered to me, at that moment, was being truthful about where I was, and that place of truth was uncertainty. Not-knowing.

It never even occurred to me to consider how someone else would think of that.

That’s a Really Big change.

I think I’m starting to find my footing. As myself. As a self I have never been able to be before.

A good solid name helps tremendously. A name that is all my own.


As much as I enjoy writing, and I enjoy being at the fringes of several writing communities (mostly on Twitter), I realized last night that . . . I’m getting burned out on Writing as Project. I’m overdue for a change of pace, where I can reconnect with a bunch of my other interests.

Whatever I take away from the last year or two of Writing as Project will continue to germinate/percolate below my conscious awareness. It won’t be wasted or lost. It’ll combine with other things in odd ways when I’m not paying deliberate attention, and down the road, my unconscious mind will astonish me with what it comes up with.

It’s been grand, I’ve enjoyed myself thoroughly, but . . . it’s time to become a fiber artist again. Someone concerned with balance and spatial arrangements and dispersal.

Someone free to come and go as she pleases.

A wind-borne seed, floating.

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