Inspiring

This goes somewhat on the heels of my last post, but in my job I often research and come across CVs, bios, and a variety of information about folks who continued on the path of academia. Today I came across one such person, a woman who currently lives in California and owns her own floral design studio for special events such as weddings. Prior to delving into the flower business, she was a cancer biologist with a PhD from Harvard. On how she made such a dramatic career switch (taken from her company website):

"Somewhere along the line, [she] realized that life is too short and quit her job to be crafty and creative with her hands."

I found this inspiring, and it reminded me of a few things:

-Sometimes the first step is admitting to yourself what it is you really love to do, because it might not be what you originally thought or intended. It might not even be popular with the people who surround you, but if they truly care about you, they'll support your decision.

-Doing what you really love is sometimes risky, especially when starting out and especially if it's not an especially lucrative profession. That being said, any profession can be lucrative if you're quite good at it and if that matters to you.

-It's never too late to do what you love, and the sooner you can begin, the better.

Dreams and Watching the Dreamers from the Outside

I must really be feeling LOST-deprived: last night I had a fabulous dream in which I was in love with Jack Shepherd and we were talking on the phone. If that isn't obsessed, I don't know what is. I guess since LOST is no longer on TV, my brain has taken over for the ABC network and has started airing its own original episodes of LOST.

There's nothing quite like a nice satisfying dream that you actually manage to remember the next morning. It could be romantic, like mine was, or action-packed with superheros or obstacles to overcome, or it could be funny and have you wake up chuckling, or it could be magical, such as the one flying dream I had that I'll never forget. I wish I was as disciplined about keeping a dream journal as I was about writing in my blog. I must add this to my "To Do" list.

As I write this post, I can't help noticing Penny taking a catnap on the couch across from me. Sometimes she stretches out her legs and separates all her toes, in what appears to be an unconscious reflex as she sleeps the evening away. Other times, a twitchy movement will catch my eye and cause me to look over, only to see her whiskers quivering spasmodically, almost in unison with her hind legs and front paws. Sometimes she'll emit a little groan, as if in her dream she let the mouse get away (or perhaps centipede, since we've discovered that she's an excellent centipede hunter).

I'm also reminded of what people look and sound like when they're dreaming. I've been known to do that embarrassing twitch as I'm about to fall asleep that not only makes my heart leap for a second but also wakes me up and causes me to look around to make sure no one saw my extremities jerking around in such an unseemly manner. Although I'm not a big talker in my sleep (according to my husband it only happens from time to time), from what I've heard, my father is often overheard arguing in the depths of slumber about some unfair call made by a referee, umpire, or some other figure of authority (at this point I think the only consolation my mom has after being woken up without hope of falling back asleep is giggling about my dad's somnolent chattering the next morning over coffee). I've even caught my husband in mid-conversation a few times in the middle of the night, although it's almost impossible to reconstruct the context the next morning, as the dream has already come and retired into the inner recesses of his mind.

If I had to choose, I'd rather dream than watch the dreamers, hands down. But that doesn't mean I can't still get a kick out of spying on the inhabitants of Dream Land once in awhile.

A Different Kind of Memory

Have you ever had dreams that were so vivid, they made a permanent imprint on your brain? Do you have dreams that become integrated into your memory, as if you had really lived them?

One of my great-aunts had a dream in which her husband was not quite "behaving himself." I suppose the dream was extremely realistic because the following morning my great-aunt proceeded to sock my great-uncle on the arm. I'm sure he was left scratching his head about what he had done to deserve such punishment.

I had a similar dream last night in which my own husband snubbed me to spend a day with Shakira. When I woke up he asked me why I was in such a bad mood and when I told him, he couldn't help laughing at my ridiculous reason for being so cranky.

Although this most recent dream was of the more scandalous persuasion, other dreams that have stuck with me over time have been more benign. One involved climbing down a lush tree with stairs that wrapped around the trunk like a spiral staircase. The tree had rooms inside its trunk which I saw in passing from the outside as I descended. Then I found myself in either a Brazilian or African town with dry brown earth and a market in which I found myself among people with coffee-colored skin milling around in the marketplace and playing soccer.

This dream "clip" and its imagery, in addition to the feeling of adventure and joy that I had as I climbed down the tree stairs, have stayed with me for a long time. I imagine this dream floating in between the file cabinets in my brain labeled "Dreams" and "Memories" because it's really both. In composition it's a dream and as far as I know it never happened (unless it occurred in another reality!), but all the same I still consider it a fond memory.