The Tragic Optimist

Mother of all Anxiety Dreams

This morning I was recounting to Chris the bad dream I had last night. It involved Chris, Zoe, my brother and I going shopping at a huge K*Mart. Chris went to buy shoes that were on sale, so my brother and I were wandering through the store when I realized that I had no idea where Zoe was. I went back to the front of the store calling Zoe’s name and finally asked at the front desk.

“Oh yes,” the woman there says, “we saw your beautiful baby girl wandering loose through the store.”
“Where is she now?” I demand.
“Don’t know,” she answers.
“Did someone take her?”
“Don’t know.”
“Can some of your employees help me look?”
“I don’t know if that’s allowed,” she says, “do you think I can find our policies in Wikipedia?”

I go back to desperately searching for her while the front desk woman tries to find out if she’s allowed to help, and then wake up – happy to see Zoe sleeping soundly beside me.

Chris observed that the dream really hit all the anxieties: losing my daughter, dealing with bureaucracy, the misuse of Wikipedia as an authoritative source. “Oh yeah,” I reply, “did I mention that I was topless during the whole dream too…”

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