One time I had a dream about a squirrel. It was a giant squirrel and we were wrestling. I was watching the dream in the third person, as if it was happening on a tv screen and the squirrel and I were wrestling in front of an oak tree surrounded by a low brick wall. The bricks in the wall looked like bricks do in the Super Mario Brothers' games, all red with white flecks and yellow mortar. In each corner of the screen were two power meters, one for each of us. As we wrestled and completed moves against each other, our meters would go down little by little. Eventually one of us would bottom out and the round would be over. We would sit on the brick wall under the oak tree and discuss things in Romanian while we rested. I don't know what we talked about, as at that time I only spoke a few words in that language, so I couldn't follow what was being said by the character that was me--or the squirrel for that matter. And after a few minutes, we'd get back up and start in on the next match. I think I went three matches before I woke up. I don't remember the score.
I tell that dream for two reasons. The first one is that its one of my favorite dreams. Every now and then I have a dream so vivid and telling I've never forgotten it. I'm not sure where all the elements came from (especially the giant squirrel!), but I had just started to study Romanian and I always figured it was some sort of mental game my brain was playing. Or maybe I just played too many video games as a child.
The second reason is that I was reminded of the power meters this evening. I was laying on the couch with my wife, telling her about some day dreams I had when I was a kid. I think she was impressed by the amount of detail I had put into this story and wondered why I had never told her about any of it before. But she fails to understand how much time I spent walking to school with nothing else to think about and how slightly embarressed I am at having made up such a make believe world in junior high and even into high school. I don't think cool people with cool things to occupy themselves have such worlds in their heads. I've always wished I was cool.
But I digress. She was so impressed by the story that she began to encourage me to write it down. I assured her that would be pointless, for as much detail as I was telling her, it was still missing some major features, such as an actual plot. "No," she said, I must write it down. And then she began to tell me all sorts of nice things about myself that I can only hope are true. And that little power meter in the corner of my life? It started filling up. Its a little unsettling sitting on the couch with your wife, listening to her say nice things about you and suddenly seeing your "hit point" meter getting fuller just abover her right ear. It makes you wonder if maybe you shouldn't have had that last piece of pizza after all. I don't think she noticed me staring at it.
I think we all need somebody like my wife in our lives. Someone who plays the role of the fairies in Zelda, or the green and white mushroom in Super Mario Brothers. Someone who speaks into our lives the truth of what could be there, what actually *is* there, lying under the surface, sometimes so deep we don't even see it ourselves. Someone to give us just a few more minutes to make those final few blows on the boss at the end of the level.
I'm not ready to write a book yet. I think I need to find a few more bonus levels first before I have enough gold coins to buy a plot. But until then I will continue to wrestle squirrels under oak trees, knowing that no matter how many times he gets me in a choke hold there's a 1-up waiting for me at home.
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