I had a dream ... can't figure out ... it affected me at work on my blog today ..
In the dream, I was in an empty space. We were figuring out where to put things. We put a desk, with a lamp and a blotter, in a corner -- on an inefficient diagonal, catty-cornered to the gleaming wood of my dance studio floor.
Donald Trump, (yes "The Donald") was there ordering us to sit down for our talk. I was trying to tell him that we didn't have any chairs -- just three stools -- a small low one, a high one, and an old stage prop stool that was covered with a pale orange rug-cover.
Why was Trump there? Why were there no chairs -- no proper place to sit except on the three stools, one of which was too low, the other awkwardly high?
What does this dream mean?
Aha! It's dawning on me -- Trump -- was he there to fire people? Or was the dream about the trump that tops the other guy's cards? Was The Donald a symbolical "Fran," my blog coach? Were JC and I supposed to sit down for a conference with Fran?
Mm hm, thinks Freud Frankel, you and JC discuss your ideas, and when he thinks an idea is too far-out, Fran usually trumps his objection.
Whoa -- JC is in Los Angeles right now, shooting a scene as Grandpa in ABC's sitcom,"The Middle." Fran lives in Massachusetts. I'm here by myself in New York City ...
And in the dream, those stools -- was the tall one for the tallest person? That's JC, but maybe Fran ought to have it -- shouldn't the Trump get the tallest stool? The stage prop with the orange rug -- ick -- was that me?
Ho ho ... Freud is telling Em that this dream means -- YOU ARE THE BOSS. ACT LIKE THE BOSS.
(Neither of them are here, and here I am today, zooming ahead on a bunch of ideas, feeling sort of inspired but not finishing anything ... because I need an opinion? Do I need approval?)
I hope you who are reading this won't t mind being the consulting psychoanalyst today, listening to Em babbling, psychoanalyzing things. Actually, it turned into a very productive fun day.
I took a four o'clock break, though I rarely take a four o'clock break, and ate the corn on cob I've been saving for watching a movie tonight. (Before JC left for LA, he bought me six corn on cobs -- he knows I love to nibble on a corn when we're watching TV.) I nibbled on the corn, one kernel at a time, having a good time watching "Judge Judy" scold her litigants.
Back downstairs at work -- pop, pop, pop -- three of the ideas came clear as they popped into my head like popcorn, and are now scribbled legibly on my list of posts.
I started my barre thinking "What a day!" -- stopped after ten minutes. I wasn't in the mood to take my whole barre. My muscles enjoy a occasional night off and this post ... well, it's done, isn't it?
It's dinnertime and maybe there'll be a earlier movie ...
Six corns is what my loving, thoughtful, dear shopper bought for me -- he'll be back tomorrow night ...
Mm ... The last corn on the cob is waiting ...