Dearest Rachel –
I’ve got to admit, I’ve been having a pretty active dream life lately. As I understand it, this is supposed to mean that I’m getting more than an adequate amount of sleep, despite the fact that I’m still waking up within an hour or so after the fitness center opens up – which, I might remind you, is almost obscenely early. Still, maybe Lars is right about how having lost all this weight, I’m no longer dealing with certain afflictions, such as hypertension, GIRD (although my stomach does still grind away uncomfortably at something more often than I’d like; he and I are arranging some tests for the near future)… and now, it might be that I’ve all but solved my sleep apnea, thereby allowing me a solid night’s sleep that gets as far as the R.E.M. state on the regular.
Then again, one of the symptoms of sleep apnea is snoring – you were the one that caught it so many years ago, and urged me to seek treatment for it – but without you (or anyone else) sleeping next to me, I’ve no idea if that’s truly been, ah… put to bed, if you’ll pardon the expression.
Anyway, ironically, the dream had something to do with food. Lots of it. And for once, it may have involved my workplace in a more positive light than usual. I say “may” because I didn’t actually see anyone from the office that I recognized (and for that matter, I’m not sure you were there either, as far as I can recall; although you might have been there, for reasons I’ll get into shortly), but the atmosphere clearly felt like a company picnic. Indeed, it was a place that we’d used as a venue for our company outings more than once – Six Flags Great America.
Like any major theme park, they have an area reserved for large group outings, and we were using it, as we have several times in the past. The unusual thing about it is that, rather than being serving the typical summertime carnival food – like burgers, hotdogs, nachos, fries, that sort of fare – it was more the sort of thing that you would see at a banquet hall; fancier, more filling stuff than all that. Not that I remember, specifically, what it was they served, but only that I was getting ridiculously full, and yet, they kept bringing out more and more courses. The company would splash out every now and them on these sorts of parties, to be sure, but this was beyond over-the-top.
It got to the point where I was making the old family joke about Italian beef sandwiches – which, since I’ve told you that story about the family of a friend of mine who hosted a party in which a platter of them was brought out after all of us had eaten their fill and then some, has become a family expression for overfeeding at a party (and the fact that we have such an expression, and use it every now and again, really says something about us, I suppose) that you’d be familiar with, so maybe you were there for me to make that crack to. But that’s just how sumptuous this repast was; although in hindsight, that seems decidedly inappropriate to do at a theme park. Can you imagine riding one roller coaster or another with a stomach full to nearly bursting? I really don’t have to go into detail about the predictable results – not that my dream ever left the banquet area.
As always, there wasn’t much more of a plot than that, honey – just a pleasant time being had by all, and everyone eating more than their fill. I don’t think any of us were eating to the point of getting sick, but whether we were on the verge of discomfort, I’m a little less certain. It all felt a little too festive to be quite like than.
To be honest, at this point, I’d be willing to consider the possibility that, having complained about how you haven’t been in my dreams lately, you decided to send me one in which you might have been there, and which rather resembles some of the things I might look forward to one you and I are reunited. After all, one of the first corporate (as in, all of us together, not an actual company thing) events we’ll be a part of is what’s spoken of as “the marriage supper of the Lamb,” wherein the Bride (that’s all of us, as the Church of His saints) is presented to Christ in glory. We’ve been reliably informed that there will be feasting and merriment there and then, and perhaps my mind was trying to approximate what that would look like, for reasons I can’t begin to guess at.
Then again, it might just as easily be a case of where my mind blends events of the recent past and future (such as the cruise I was just on and the upcoming Frontier Days festival), and just drops my subconscious mind into this semi-imaginary venue, telling me to “have a good time.” There are certainly worse dreams, and worse reasons for them, I suppose. Or maybe it’s a case of my mind pointing out that I ate too much at the folks’ place last night; I would rather not tell you what the scale had to say to me this morning, if that’s all right with you.
Still, I’d best get on with my day at this point, honey, now that I’m awake and pretty much done telling you about all this. I don’t think I’m going to be able to find any deeper meaning to this particular vision; I only wish I had a little more real interaction with you, as I don’t really recall seeing you as such, apart from that one inside joke that suggested you were there at my elbow.
In any event, keep and eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 