For a guy so enamored with inventions of the mind, one would think that Dream World would provide the ultimate escape from reality, a factory of imagination. My sleeping dreams, however, only magnify the frustrations and obstacles of my conscious existence.
Trapped within my nighttime visions, I struggle to report for work on time, impeded by dead-end mazes and repetitive searches for lost shoes and ties, only to show up late and pants-less. The next night I might end up back in college, facing finals week without ever having attended a single class. The rare REM revisit to high school leaves me feeling guilty for having missed every session of religion class, even though long-gone attendance records would say otherwise.
The occasional nighttime break from work or school gives way to nightmarish pursuits by bears and predatory felines of all types. The older I get, the more often these animals catch me with sharp claws or teeth, the point at which my wife usually intervenes to inquire about all the whimpering. When work and other misfortunes force me to sleep alone, I awaken to my own shouts to await the inevitable call or door knock from hotel security.
According to the prevailing research, many other dreamers share these night-time anxieties. Yet, I still feel alone. If only I could dream productively, like Dmitri Mendeleev, arranger of the periodic table, who claimed: “I saw in a dream a table where all elements fell into place as required.”
My version of that quotation would read: “I saw in a dream a deadline victimized by ineptitude and chaos.”
Unlike Dr. Mendeleev, my subconscious machinations seem destined to wallow through endless loops of overly dramatized personal concerns. When I can muster the energy to debrief in the aftermath, I can usually come up with a real-life basis for the dreamed events: any of a dozen shortcomings or embarrassments or unaccomplished tasks. The religious guilt alone would occupy a sinful amount of server space.
To understate: dreams rarely inspire me.
Instead, they drag me down like an anchor, leaving me exhausted, breathless, in need of a nap. So, I never liked to report for work through a gauntlet of posters promoting the value of dreams. I still don’t enjoy the appearance of motivational maxims in email subject lines or on-line company newsletters. Workplace dreams serve only to interfere with my daydreams of post-work diversions. Wise, dream-related sayings do not inspire me to work harder. They do, however, inspire me to written defacement:
When John Lennon suggested that “A dream you dream together is reality,” my felt-tip retorted: “Reality has ended many a dream” or “Real dreams defy reality rather than define it.”
Colin Powell said: “A dream doesn’t become a reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination, and hard work.”
My rebuttals: “When a dream becomes reality, the dream is over” and “Do we really want our dreams to become reality?”
My dislike for work-related dream allusions caused me to search out opportunities to demean the reference. Steve Allen’s optimistic: “One of the nice things about problems is that a good many of them do not exist” got twisted into a more satisfactorily downbeat: “One of the nice things about dreams is that a good many of them do not exist.”
Suave and thoughtful Keanu Reeves advises: “The small act of paying attention can take you a long way.”
Dorky thoughtless me: “The small act of paying attention has ended many a dream,” upon which I piled: “The small act of paying attention lies beyond the capability of a large segment of the population.”
Having warmed up with attacks on defenseless dreams, why not move on to the kicking of already-down heroes and idols?
Lance Armstrong: “Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.”
Me: 1. “There is always a right time to quit.”
2. “There is danger in failure to quit at the right time.”
3. “Quitting at the right time can prevent permanent pain.”
4. “Pain is temporary. Knee problems last forever.”
Bill Cosby: “In order for you to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.”
Me: 1. “When properly performed, failure requires so much less work.”
2. “The infinitesimal difference between failure and success negates
the value of hard work.”
Tiger Woods: “You should live your own life and live up to your own expectations.”
Me: 1. “Tiger Woods should have suppressed a few of his own expectations.”
2. “Expectations are not necessarily/always worth living up to.”
As noted previously, my efforts did not go unnoticed. Dream supporters demanded confession, punishment, and repentance. Deprived of those results by a stubborn culprit, my workplaces often established motivational-adage and poster moratoriums, prompting me to create a few of my own, which I called:
Sole-Source De-Motivators
- “Are you doing an awful lot or doing a lot awfully?”
- “Some imaginations deserve less use.”
- “Don’t resonate. Resignate.”
- “Multi-task: a mythical act consisting of a series of glorified errands performed with ever-decreasing efficiency.”
- “The difference between ‘terrific’ and ‘terrify’ warrants attention.”
I recognize and regret the insufferable nature of this vandalistic practice, an impulse no less crude or involuntary than the actions of last night’s territorial nightmare weasel. The entertainment value of this irresistible drive to ridicule and belittle has a high price: time that I could better spend on loftier goals, an upgrade that might even result in a healthier dream world.
The Four Agreements master Don Miguel Ruiz counsels: “Imagine living your life without fear of expressing your dreams.”
I would settle for living a life without dreams that make me scream.
Here’s hoping your dreams have proved more inspirational than mine. If so, what have they inspired you to do? Or not do?