Last weekend I flew to Chicago for work. We have recently opened a new studio there, which is appropriate, because we are successful, in large part thanks to Miss Chicago herself, Oprah Winfrey.
I adore this city. I haven’t been to Chicago for about 10 years (boy, that makes me feel old) and it is even better than I remember it. The city is so clean and the people are helpful and friendly. This is a huge adjustment when you are used the the less-than-attentive customer service you find around LA.
I fell in love with the employees of our new studio and learned so much about living in Chicago during our brief chat over lunch. One girl bought a brand new, 1-bedroom condo in a cool, young, hip neighborhood for $225,000. Holy smokes! And it is only about 100 square feet smaller than mine. We won’t even mention the difference in price as I find it makes me a little ill.
Anyway, all in all, what a lovely trip, even if it exhausted me to the point of “almost tears”. I will have to return for a visit in the winter to see if I could tolerate living there. One girl told me that it was fine, “as long as you invest in a good winter coat”. She told me hers is good down to 20 below. (Gulp, Where’s the sunscreen?).
I spent yesterday recuperating after my long, 7-day work week, complete with 10 classes. I fell into bed after my night class and a good dinner filled with vegetables.
Last night I dreamed that I had joined the army. I was riding in a truck, with a small bag of stuff, wearing fatigues. We arrived at some remote location where we boarded another bus ~ but I left my small bag of belongings on the first bus thinking I would be returning for them. I soon learned that I would not be able to retrieve my things, which included many sentimental items. When we arrived at our training site, a drill sergeant looked us over and I, unfortunately, passed inspection. I was then required to find my way, blindfolded, to my barracks and unpack. At this point, I started to scream, cry and throw things around the dusty yard, yelling that I had left my things and that I didn’t want to go to Iraq. I woke up whimpering.
I have no idea what that is all about. Any interpretations?
Or perhaps I just listen to [URL=http://www.npr.org/]NPR[/url] too much.
I love Chicago. I’m a little jealous…
In re: the dream – what have you left behind/undone? And why do you think you won’t have the chance to do it?
Oh boy. Yes. That’s a good interpretation.
With dreams, when you awaken, you can go back to the dream at any point you want and then be the movie director who can create whatever scenes she wants. There can be retakes and alternate endings. as your Dad, I would prefer an ending that does not include Iraq. Of course it is your dream.