Friday night is a big night for dreams around here, at least for me, probably because like most of us, I don’t have to get up in the morning. I opened my eyes at 6:30 and again at 7:00 and it’s the-not-getting-out-of-bed-right-away that brings them on.
In the work week my mind is whirring like a top by 6:30 even if I don’t leap right from the bed. Today by contrast I knew I could lie there til 9am if I liked, so I turned over and in came the dreams.
One was about the far-distant friend I ran into in Macy’s. She had just blown into town for a week, she told me there in Domestics.
“But where are you staying?” I asked her, meaning Why aren’t you staying with us?
“RIght over there,” she said, indicating the linens section of this Home Department and sure enough: Among the dozen perfectly curated display beds, each one tricked out with gorgeous color-coordinated puffs, quilts and duvets, not to mention a world of improbable throw pillows, was a bed that had clearly been slept in and only partially made, with an actual somewhat-worse-for-the wear stuffed animal atop it.
More than her resourcefulness I admired her chutzpah.
Chutzpah must have been the theme of the hour during that 6:30 to 7:00 window because the second dream showed more nerve than the first:
My family and I were on some sort of Disney-style cruiseline of a ship that prided itself in providing a highly sanitized and carefully managed experience. Maybe it really was a Disney cruise come to think of it or maybe, as the dream wore on, we were by then in actual Disney World where , if you’ve ever been there, you know you can’t so much as hoist yourself up to sit on a fake-stone wall without having three guys wearing blazers and walkie-talkies converge on you to suggest you hoist yourself the heck back down. Ma’am.
Anyway, we were this restaurant whether on land or sea, when our young waitress, dressed as Snow White, suddenly set down her pot of Decaf, tugged at the front of her costume which must have been velcroed together like stage clothes, and with one motion stood before us entirely bare, that super-white Snow White skin looking all the whiter for the contrast with her jet black hair.
“My first naked lady!” a little boy exclaimed just before a flying wedge of blazer guys began hauling her off.
As she passed me I couldn’t help it. I spoke to her. “Hey good for you!” and she shot me her dazzling smile.
So there it is: proof that even a good girl who leaps straight from the bed already planning a dozen ways to save the world, can have some pretty transgressive dreams if allowed to sleep even 30 minutes over… But hey, fun is fun, right? And we all need a little friskiness in our lives.