June 07, 2008
Originally published November 3, 2003
I dreamed last night that I was back at the Steam Plant at work and a bunch of my clothes were floating in the oil-skimmer pond where all the compressor cooling water goes. My clothes were in a white garbage bag and the bag was making a lazy circle in the water. I KNEW that I had to wade out there and GET MY STUFF before it sank.
I did. I was wearing ankle-high rubber boots, the kind I once wore when I worked the Moore filtration job 22 years ago. The water was way over the tops of my boots, but it looked exactly like the water around Key West. It was crystal clear and tiny fish were swimming around in it. I waded out there and fetched my bag.
As I was slogging out of the water, I saw my ex-wife walking down the road. She had a big bandage across her face and when she saw me, she ducked behind a power pole and tried to hide. I went over to see her. "My God," I asked. "Did you get a NOSE JOB?"
She gave me the same look I saw on her face in court when I signed the divorce papers. It was that combination of smirk and innocence that she is so good at manufacturing. "I'm not the ONLY one, you know. Look around, on your way out," she said. "EVERYBODY is expected to have this kind of nose now, and you just don't get it. That's your problem. You never understood how to plan your career, did you, Rob?"
She was smoking a cigarette. Her nose was bulbous and swollen. Her eyes were blackened. I always thought that Jennifer had a beautiful face and I couldn't believe that she had done that to herself. "I liked your face the way it was," I offered.
"Yeah. And look at where THAT got you," she said, as she pitched her cigarette into the oil-skim pond and walked away.
I woke up at 3:30 in the morning after that dream and I couldn't go back to sleep.
Do you believe that I might find some serious Freudian implications in that dream if I really took the time to analyze it?
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