Observing whatever tickles my fancy

Archive for the ‘Dreams’ Category

Pipe Dream

If you can dream it, you can do it.

Walt Disney

A month ago I lost my job.  The phrase, “laid off due to reorganization” was used.

With this lay off the company arranged for me the opportunity to meet with a “human resources” organization. These are folks who were, at one time, members of the human resources department of their respective employers. Their goal, to help the recently laid off find a job by spiffing up their resumes and teaching them to answer those ever so difficult questions like “tell me about yourself” and “do you like to work alone or as a member of a team”. All of which can be found for free on the internet or your local department of Workforce Development (or whatever your state calls it). Since my former employer is paying for these talking heads I agreed to meet with the one selected for me: a soul without a dream.

That’s a hard phrase: “A soul without a dream” but it bears repeating. A soul without a dream.

During my first session, probably when I was asked “tell me about yourself”, I told this advisor that in high school I had dreamed of becoming an animator for Disney but that through the course of my life, and accepting some limitations, I adjusted my dreams. The response from this soul without a dream was, “I never had a pipe dream like that”.

A pipe dream. That statement has stuck in my craw since the moment it was spoken. No one should ever be told that their dream (no matter how old) is a pipe dream. It leaves a sick taste in the mouth and soul. It pushes the heart down and resentment up. How dare you. But as I have thought on it I began to feel sorry for the person who made the statement. How can you have never had a dream? Didn’t you want to fly in space? Be a cowboy, a doctor, a Broadway star? Didn’t you ever stand in front of an imaginary crowd singing your heart out wondering what it would be like to be a rock star? Did you really want to be an accountant when you grew up, a manager of the human services department? Why didn’t you have a dream? How could you not have a dream?

I’ll never work for Disney. That time has passed. But maybe, if one of my children stories ever gets published…maybe Disney will purchase the rights to animate it. So, there’s still a dream…and if you don’t have a dream….what do you have?Laughter is timeless dreams are forever quote Disney

A Winter Dream

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Warm sunlight.

Open windows.

A summer breeze.

The smell of freshly mowed grass.

The smell and colors of flowers in bloom.

Riding bicycles.

A robin.

Crickets.

Butterflies.

Bored at work

Work has gotten a little boring.  When this happens I’ve no option but to crawl into a daydream.  Sometimes I drag friends along via email.  This is what happened today.

L:

Riding the fence line again today.  I’m out in Wyoming, near the Tetons, and of course it’s early summer.  My horse, Chisholm, is a beautiful Pinto.  He is a solid, yet gentle animal.  Earlier, as I attached the post, Chisholm playfully nudged me.  He nibbled at the pocket of my jacket knowing that there was a carrot tucked inside.  It’s beautiful out here on the range.  The sun beating on my back, a gentle breeze coming off the mountains.  Chisholm and I are going to rest near the creek down a ways.  Good place for a nap.

J:

I could visualize everything about this…even you giggling as he playfully nudged you!

L:

Of course I laughed, then rubbed his muzzle as he crunched the carrot.  Chisholm is an awesome companion.

A:

Please continue……I am so right there.

L:

Found a calf stuck in the scrub bushes on the way to the creek.  It’s one of ours.  Can’t see its mother anywhere and don’t see any crows overhead so she must be out there somewhere.

A:

NORMAN!!!!

L:

NO!  Not Norman…..no, no, no…..you city folks and your talkin’ pictures….it’s a plain old calf.  No name, no number…yet.  But it will get a number…. a number, not a name.  You don’t name something you’re going to eat….unless it’s Ribeye.

A:

Sorry about interruption.  Please continue…found a calf stuck in the scrub brushes…

L:

Found the herd over the rise.  The minute we crested the hill old Bessie heard her calf calling.  She came lickety split to him and he latched onto her with a hunger.  He sounded more like a suckling pig than a calf.  Bessie shot me a look of contempt, as if I took her baby.  “You’re the one that lost him,” I told her.  “Don’t blame me for your incompetence as a mother.”

I watched the herd for a bit and didn’t see anything amiss so headed back toward the creek.  No wayward calf would deter Chisholm and I to take some time for ourselves.

*note: friends who were dragged along via email.  I did do some editing when I realized some geography was off.  A writer should always edit.

Chasing Carrots

My friend Sara is afraid of carrots.  Sure, the word “hate” could be used but that’s merely the explanatory reaction of this deep seated fear.   I learned about her fear years ago and am certain that I burst into laughter before asking the question, “Why are you afraid of carrots?”

Carrot Chase

This is her story:

“Okay…so I was a kid and this dream would come up quite a few times.  It was me and my Dad in a field with a stone fence running down it.  This wacko carrot comes out of nowhere and chases us.  A floret of broccoli also joins in the pursuit.  We would get to the fence and I would wake myself up.  Frickin radical veggies!!”

It’s a bizarre image but according to a friend of ours carrots in dreams are a good thing.   They represent good fortune or great wealth.  We’re not sure about the broccoli but according to the dream dictionary it means you are seeking faith nourishment.  (Who comes up with these interpretations?)

Here’s my theory.  As a child Sara had carrots forced upon her.  Jar upon unending jars of pureed carrots were doled out in baby spoonsful.  Little Sara would shake her head from side to side avoiding the spoon filled with orange mush but she was a baby and no match for mom.  The carrot was still shoved into her baby mouth as Mom would say, ”Mmmmm, nummy”.  Little Sara would have none of it.  She would make her ucky baby face and spit it out in a spray of orange specks.  Mom vs. Baby ensued.

Scarred at such a young age, Sara would have endless dreams of carrots chasing her. She would endure decades of teasing by family and friends.  These same people would buy her gifts like carrot slippers, carrot ornaments.  There would be carrot cake for birthdays.

The end has come for that carrot.  I caught it a few weeks back, decapitated it, and tossed it into a pot of stew.

Sara shall have carrot free dreams from now on.