I was in an arranged marriage.
Last night I had a dream where I was in an arranged marriage to an African man named Joseph. Though I knew him, I didn’t love him…I didn’t even like him per se. I found out who my husband was going to be by opening up a little piece of paper. I wanted to get out of the engagement, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Hurt his feelings?
I shouldn’t have cared so much. You would think that my lifelong happiness would have taken precedence over hurting his feelings.
Oh well. T’was a dream. I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I woke up.
I wish that I could have dreamt about something last Saturday night. I was staying at my mother’s house in Dalton, MA, in a guest bedroom. The Red Sox game was in extra innings, so I turned in late anyhow, but I could not fall asleep for the life of me.
Blankets on. Blankets off. Window open, then closed. Thinking about my job, thinking about my relationships, thinking about how the blankets were bunching and taking up more room than I was. Getting annoyed at blankets is such a one-way relationship. They simply give the silent treatment and lay there like slugs. What was going on?
Let’s consult my primary care doctor, Dr. WebMD.
Primary insomnia: when a person is having sleep problems that are not directly associated with any other health condition or problem. Acute insomnia can last from one night to a few weeks.
It looks like I had acute primary insomnia. Basically, I couldn’t sleep for one night.
The only other time this happened to me was back in February 2007 when I was in Tampa, FL for a business meeting. I was sleeping in a room with a middle aged woman, a stranger, who happened to work for the same company I did. We were certainly cordial, and she did nothing wrong. However, I laid awake for hours in that hotel room. Hours. By the next morning I had landed about 2 hours of solid sleep. I didn’t tell anyone at the time, lest they suspect that I was crazy. I’m certain that my roommate didn’t want to think about me over in the other bed, lying with my eyes open, thinking about my breathing pattern. It probably would have made her a tad uncomfortable?
But I was totally alone this past Saturday when I couldn’t sleep. Well, counting the uncooperative mute blankets, there were two of us. At 3am the heat in the house came on. I was groggily wandering around inside the bedroom, resisting the temptation to rip off my pajamas and lay on the floor where it would be cooler.
It’s funny how my brain was working around 3:30am, having been awake since 7am the day before. Some thoughts were passing through like bullets (Who was that girl on my JV volleyball team that couldn’t jump well?), but other thoughts lingered like jelly fish without a current to ride (do I really want to stay in HR for my career?) Wrestling with my life’s biggest issues while 65% asleep in a guest bedroom isn’t very effective.
Maybe I needed Joseph, my African arranged-marriage husband to help me think things out?
We’ll see if he shows up again tonight. God has spoken in stranger ways.