$1,000 Dream. (or: How Reality Came Knocking On My Door.)

Dreams are the touchstones of our character.

-Henry David Thoreau


I love my partner. I do.
However, this morning, my love started to shrink a bit.
You see, it all started with my efforts to come up with a interpretation of a dream Partner had the night before. I know that a dream is just a dream, but I also am a believer that a dream is a projection of reality, with the details that truly mean something - the details that have the power to change your life, if you only pay attention to it - amplified - sometimes just plain distorted.
Anyway, this morning we were drinking coffee, fighting to get the sleep out of our systems. And at some point, Partner told me about The Dream.
“Actually it was a nightmare,” Partner said, in between two zips of hot, strong coffee.
“Is it going to be a long story,” I wanted to know. I am not capable to process long streams of information before 10a.m.
“I had a dream and you were gone.”
“That was probably for the best.” My wit is more awake than my body. Therefore 10,000,000 people hate me during morning hours.
“Shut up. You were gone. I woke up in my dream and you were gone. I checked the walk-in, but all your clothes were still there.”
“I owe 10,000 t-shirts. You don’t transport them overnight.”
“So I checked the rest of the house, but you were nowhere to be found.”
“Not even in the left-wing?”
“And then I noticed a note on the kitchen table. It said they kidnapped you!” A sincere emotion started to overflow Partner’s voice.
“I didn’t know James Franco was in town.”
“Well, the note… wait… James Franco? James Franco wants to kidnap you?”
“I thought we were talking about dreams.”
“Meaning…?”
“I want to be kidnapped by James Franco.”
“Let me finish.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. So they - whoever they are - kidnapped me. What did the dream-version of you do? Did you immediately plan a trip to Disney World?”
“Could you stop the jokes, please. It was a nightmare. It was awful. I felt awful.”
“I understand,” I said. “So? What did you do?”
“I called the cops of course. Anyway, the note said they kidnapped you and they wanted $1,000 for your release.”
“What?”
“Yes, I got so scared. Who knows where they were keeping you. In what dark, damp cellar they were tying you down.”
“$1,000? Is that all I’m worth these days?”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is the point!” Now the emotions were suddenly overflowing me. “You can get that kind of money at an ATM. You don’t even have to call out Bookkeeper to secure that amount of money. $1,000! What the fuck!”