An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

An Italian-American living la dolce vita in the Deep South

Sunday, May 22, 2011

I Had a Dream and it Made Me Mad

Yesterday afternoon I was on the internet when I stumbled across a trailer for the 1995 version of Pride & Prejudice. It was the scene in which Mr. Darcy proposes to Elizabeth; they are standing in the rain, the proposal is insulting, Elizabeth gets mad, then Mr. Darcy gets mad, and the entire scene is just, oh, I don't know, delicious.

Anyway, it triggered a dream last night. For those of you who don't already know this about me, I have vivid dreams. I dream in technicolor; in fact, if my dreams were on television, it would be one with a wide screen, high definition, and 3-D capabilities.

My dream began at this point: I am in a small restaurant with a group of people I have known a long time. Also in the group is a French man who, everyone knew, liked me most ardently (word from the P & P trailer). There was a sense of excitement in the air because he was returning to France in two weeks, and everyone knew he was going to say something to me very soon.

One by one all my friends leave until it is just the two of us. There is a candle glowing on the table. He seems nervous, which makes me nervous, and my heart starts pounding. He takes my hand and (remember, I have vivid dreams) his hands are cold.

Maria, he says with his French accent. You know how I feel. Here, look what I have.

By now I am really nervous as he reaches behind him and pulls out ... a large manila envelope. He opens it, pulls out a stack of papers and hands them to me.

It is important to know one another, he says, gesturing to the stack.

Not really understanding, I look at the papers. Typed neatly, page after page, are questions such as What is your favorite color? What goals do you have? Do you like to cook?

I get a sinking feeling and I am more than just a little sad. I continue to look through the questions, not saying anything, as he talks and talks. When he finishes, I tap the papers into a neat stack, stand up, and hand them back.

This is an application. I am not applying for a job, I say. Then I slowly walk out of the restaurant and out of my dream.

I wake up and I am mad.

Most ... ardently ... mad.


Ellen Stewart (aka Ellie/El/e/Mrs. Seaman) said...

Well, good thing you didn't apply, since you're already married.

I dreamt my mom and I were living in Beirut (remember, she died a long time ago), and she was driving me to a job at the Gap.

What triggered that?


tiziana said...

Mamma mia che sogno strano!! Speravo in un bel sogno romantico, ma che delusione!!
Sei sicura di non aver mangiato qualche cosa di "pesante" per cena?
Ti auguro per questa sera dei bei sogni di tutti i colori e soprattutto con un bel finale.