This morning, I got up for about an hour, got the kids out of bed and gave them some juice, all the usual AM stuff. Then Sarah (my co-habiting co-parent) took over the Captain's Chair while I went back to bed.
Which was great, but I must have spent the entire three extra hours of sleep I got in REM, because I dreamed, and dreamed, and dreamed.
Now, I don't necessarily believe that our dreams always have deeper meanings. Maybe yes, maybe no, and maybe they're just Rorschach blots that only mean as much as we think they do.
But these dreams made me wonder. And wonder. And wonder.
This one was by no means the strangest, but it was perhaps the most inscrutable.
Sarah and I were at a large stadium, watching a track and field kind of thing. The entire crowd -- including us -- was excited, because of the main event: A young boy, about eight or ten, was trying to break a world record by running more laps than anyone else in history. And it looked like he was going to pull it off. He ran, and ran.
We went down to meet him when he took a quick break (even my dreaming mind knows that Guinness allows breaks). He was wrapped in a towel, surrounded by well-wishers. Sarah and I had just shaken his hand when suddenly, we all heard the news.
The little boy had just been elected Pope.
And I thought, "Well, here's a Pope who won't have any trouble matching John Paul II's record for longevity."
Now, for some reason, I have an intuition that this dream has something to do with my writing. Maybe just because my other dreams were so clearly telling me something about other parts of my life (but that's a story for, well, never, because they were very weird and personal).
Regardless, I'm having a little trouble figuring this one out. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something, and if so, what? Or is my dreaming mind just being a dick again?
I could use some feedback on this one. Any thoughts?