The night before last I had a very vivid dream featuring one of my favorite clients. No, we’ve never met in person, but we’ve talked on the phone and I’ve seen her photo, and she was very present and very realistic in my dream. So, anyway, I dreamed that my job was to be in charge of her bassoon — her bassoon whose appraisal value was THREE MILLION DOLLARS. And I had the bassoon in this cheap hotel room along with all three kids, who were tearing the place apart, and they scratched the bassoon a couple of times and Kristy was getting rightfully pissed off and it was very stressful.
Now, this is not my usual anxiety dream. My usual anxiety dream involves being back in college and suddenly discovering that the semester is nearly over and I haven’t once checked my mail. Not email, because when I was in college there was *cough* no such thing as email yet *cough* but real mail, my campus mailbox wadded up with syllabi, overdue library notices, etc. etc. Ugh, just typing this is giving me sweats.
However, you don’t need to be the daughter of a clinical psychology professor to figure out that the bassoon dream was an anxiety dream too. Indeed, I was a bit anxious when I went to bed that night, though my anxiety had nothing to do with Kristy, bassoons, my kids, or cheap hotel rooms. Nope, I was worrying about a website design. It was just not coming together. It’s so strange and fascinating how all of a sudden a design will come together — click! — and you just know it’s right. And not only was this one not clicking, but I really had only myself to blame. My client had NO previously-existing marketing materials at all except for a shade of blue. I was starting from complete and total scratch. I chose the font, designed the logo — everything! Ack!
Well, the next day, which was yesterday, everything finally came together and this afternoon I sent off the draft. Who’d a thunk rounded instead of square corners would make such a difference? Now I’m in that state of happy nervous excitement, waiting to hear their reaction. I think they will like it. I hope.
Kristy, here’s your bassoon. I don’t want it any more.
13 Comments
I’m entirely unable, at this point, to come up with a witty enough response befitting this entry. I’m too busy laughing. A bassoon?!? A THREE MILLION DOLLAR bassoon?!? If you only knew. If you only knew.
Um, I’m flattered (?!) I landed in one of your dreams. And, I’ll gladly take a three million dollar basson off your hands…and head straight to the pawn shop ;-)
Yeah, it’s funny now, isn’t it. But lemme tell you, it wasn’t so funny at the time. And, sure, take the bassoon to the pawnshop, Kristy. The kids scratched it all up, remember? Oy!
I used to have that mailbox dream, too, Julie. I had it for years, until one day, I managed to overcome all the usual campus obstacles and made it to my mailbox. The envelopes literally poured out onto the ground. I haven’t had the dream since.
I have not been able to draw any correlation between the resolution of this recurring dream and any particular event in my life. I’m just glad I don’t have the dream any more.
Oh, Suzanne, I envy you! :)
Oh, those anxiety dreams are awful. Mine usually revolve around forgetting to feed the ferrets. Or the child. Like any of them would let me get away with that, yeah:)
I’m glad you got the design worked out!
Great anxiety dream — though sorry you had to have it. Any relationship between the curviness of a bassoon (tubiness, at least) and the curved-corners on the squares?
I don’t have the benefit of a psychologist father, so my dream analysis is quite extravagant and utterly groundless.
Incidentally, my anxiety dreams (oh how I love to talk about dreams) involve either being in a play and realizing I never memorized my lines or, similar to yours, being in college at the end of the semester and — here’s the difference — not having studies for any of my classes.
Julie, I know the point of dreams is the emotion in them, so I have to respect yours. But, honestly now, how anxious can not checking one’s mailbox make a person compared to the woes of not studying?
;)
I love the dream. If an anxiety dream gives you a good story to tell, it’s almost worth it.
My favorite anxiety dream is actually my husband’s, which is all the more startling because he rarely dreams. When he was studying for comprehensive exams, he dreamed that he was fixing his dad’s tractor. The tractor’s gear box was full of many tiny interlocking gears, and he was carrying it across the lawn when he tripped. All the little pieces flew up into the air and scattered across the grass. Somehow he had to find them and fit them back together.
Liesl’s anxiety dream actually makes sense because the welfare of her ferrets really does depend on her, but school anxiety dreams are ridiculous. If you screw up in school who besides yourself will suffer? I mean, what’s the big deal?
That said, Doule, are you kidding??? Not checking your mail is way worse than being unprepared for exams. Not studying for exams is just a screw-up, but not checking your mail is a total failure at being a responsible adult. I’ve had both kinds of dreams aplenty, and, alas, been there in real life as well, so I know what I’m talking about.
Veronica, maybe Az the, uh, Clumsy had been watching the movie A Christmas Story?? Remember, when the kid drops the lug nuts in the snow?
Wow, good dream there. i was wondering (not knowing Kristy) as I read whether it was a real basson, or merely a dream one, so all the more amusing to find out that she’d happily pawn it now that you’ve returned it’s non-presence to her. My own anxiety dream involves having something sticky in my mouth (usually chewing gum) that I can’t fully remove - it doesn’t matter how many times I spit it out, it’s still there. Blech. I hate it.
Sticky stuff in mouth, eh? Sounds totally revolting, not to mention anxiety-inducing. Sorry (and fascinated) to hear it, Crit.
I used to have normal anxiety dreams about college. You know forgetting about a class on your schedule until finals week. Anyway, my last anxiety dream was that my parents were visiting and I was supposed to find a place for us to eat and all the restaurants were full. Even the greasy spoon diners. Very stressful.
I still say mail, shmail.
This is a vivid an interesting recollection. I dream in colour, sound, and lots of detail but I find others’ dreams far more fascinating than my own! It’s awful to wake up feeling like your dream is occuring now!