Writing Group

22 November 2018

Triggers:

1. Once upon a dream

2. Am I awake or still in a dream?

3. It was my worst nightmare dream and now i”m living it

4. Can dreams become reality

5. Day dreaming

My Dream Consulting Job

I rarely remember my dreams. It has never been that much of an issue for me. I don’t equate my mental status or view of reality through interpretation of my dreams. I know physiologically that dreaming is an important way the brain cleans up itself. And there is evidence that the inability to have dreams in REM sleep can lead to long term mental instability or maybe even be a cause of Alzheimers as it is during rem sleep that the little alcholoyd plaques are swept away and without that it begins to clog the neurons and destroy sections and memories.

So it has never been something that I pay attention to. For me it is far more about whether I’m able to sleep at all. That seems to be a far more significant factor than whether I dream during the time. I dont worry about how odd my dreams seem.

Just yesterday though, I did have what I can call a nightmare. I was back working as a consultant on governance, something I enjoyed and felt I was good at. I always liked the fact that if people were willing to pay you for your skills and expertise, and then gave you another contract, that they must value what I brought to the table. Often though, you might take a job just to keep the money coming in and the client list building.

I was in my office when the phone rang and a voice on the other end of the line asked me for my name and social security number.

“Why is that important?” I replied. “I actually do not give out my number to someone calling in by phone.

“Ok then the voice replied, called back to this number. I have a special client who needs your help.”

I was of course intrigued and decided to play the game just a bit and phoned the number.

“The White House,” said the voice answering. “”To whom may I direct your call?”

“I don’t really know” I replied and gave them my name. “One moment please” I was told and put on hold.

“Hello, I understand you are a personal coach and expert in governance issues.”

“Well, I do have experience with those sorts of things, Yes. And who are you?”

“I need you to come immediately to Washington. I’m the assistant to the president.

“You really are putting me on,” was my reply.

“No, there will be a car come to pick you up in one hour. Be ready.”

The next thing I know, I was being ushered into the Oval office and there he was, the Orange man with the flip hair. My worst nightmare of a president was standing behind his desk. Off to the side on the sofa was his wife. It was she who spoke.

“Thank you for coming. I must say you are here only because I forced Donald to see you. He needs help.””

“I think the kind of help he needs is not what I can provide. “ I replied.

But she persisted, “No really, he is really a nice man. It is just difficult for him sometimes to understand what to do and how to manage himself. Wont you please help.”

Despite my better judgement, I found myself drawn in.

“It has to be him that decides to try and change. I can only help him to find where he can make a difference in his behavior.”

By this time, the president had come over to the couch and sat next to his wife. “Really, I do want to change my image.””

“Image has nothing to do with it,” I replied warily. “”It is really about deciding to become a normal human being. Letting go of all the anger and pettiness. And certainly giving up the tweet stuff. You are talking about changing your person not just your personality. “

“See Donald,’ she said, “”I told you he could help.

“I know that I have not had much in the way of sympathy. There are so many losers in life and I’m a winner. But things don’t seem to be going well now. I keep doing all the things that have made me a success up to now, but it seems everyone misunderstands or ends up hating me. I didn’t mean it to turn out this way. I really do want to be considered a good person.”

What a fantasy I was involved with there. I actually had begun to feel sorry for him. And so I began to work him through his motivation for change and how he could see a different way to respond to the stimulus of someone saying no or disagreeing or any of the other things he has used to lash back out.

It was then that it struck me. How can I be helping this guy. He represents everything I’ve ever fought against. Can I really make him better? And if I do help him with his image will he just use it to lull people into believing he has changed so that he can get reelected.

Now it was me feeling guilty. I’m just doing this for the glory not to mention the money. When people find out, how will it affect me? All those on who’s political side I have been my entire life, will they reject me? Will I only be able to get clients in the future who are the same as him? Am I compromising my principles for my own ego?

All those questions went through my mind, my sleeping mind. What a nightmare. And I drifted into that time when you don’t know if you are dreaming or are awake. And I began to think of different strategies I could use to help him. And how I could get him to become his better angel.

And then it hit me, I had actually been trying to make him better and actually thought I was good enough, competent enough, to make it happen. Yet it was opposite of all I believe. I felt it was my duty to my client to try. Or was it.

Finally, wakefulness overtook me and I realized it had been only a dream. A stupid dream. A really weird dream for sure. What had that said about me and my own mind? A need for work and to have some stature and money? A desire to make the world better if I could?

Now fully awake, I chided myself for having been so invested in trying to help him and after all it was only a dream. But it had all seemed so real when it was happening.

Those “real”dreams are the ones that make me question the role of dreams in my life. The only two other that were as equally as real involved conversations with two people I have lost in my life. Those were as real as my fingers touching these keys. Those dreams brought people back to life for me. Gave me contact again with them. Reminded me of who I was and the person I wanted to be. They were not nightmares of thinking I had sold out.

But then, they are only dreams.