We are less than 48 hours away from Flag Day, and my subconscious definitely knows it. For the past few days I have been having what I can only describe as "anxiety dreams." I used to get these a lot in college after working one too many wait shifts or after studying too long for an exam. You know those dreams...the ones where you're sitting in a classroom taking a test and you all of a sudden can't remember how to write, let alone come up with the right answer the the question at hand. Or, you're "in the weeds" with one too many tables and they're all asking you for more tea, except you're standing there, pitcher in hand trying to remember, "what is tea?"
This time around, my dreams have me at Flag Day, sitting in the middle of an auditorium surrounded by a crowd of people and I'm hearing S's country being called out, except S is not there. He's nowhere to be found, so I am the one walking to the front to accept the flag while hundreds of eyes stare at me quietly asking, "who the heck is that?" Or, I'm dreaming that we're at the airport ready to fly to our
still unknown destination and I can't find our tickets and passports. I stand there pulling stuff out of my bottomless Mary Poppins bag, throwing things on the floor, but I can't for the life of me find the documents needed to actually board the plane.
These dreams are not fun. And to be quite honest, I don't even know why I am the one having them. Why aren't they plaguing S? He's the actual FSO, here! Why isn't he waking up and saying, "you wouldn't believe the dream I had last night!" It probably has something to do with one of those 13 dimensions.
Well, at least my conscious and subconscious will get some relief after Friday afternoon. Then the next wave of anxiety can set in and I can start dreaming about consumable shipments and pet quarantines.