The imagination of a sutre mind

The one unique thing that you can say about all people with major mental illness is that we all have unique cases. Mine, for one, is very unique, and is very uncommon among people who are mentally ill. I will give you an example of a very elaborate dream that I had in the coming dialogue. Routinely, I have dreams that are just as intricate and creative, but I also forget them because I do not record them at the time that I wake from the dream, as I am doing tonight.

At the beginning of the dream, Heather and I were invited to a party in New York City around New Year's Eve. The party, as Heather explained it to me, was a three day party.

We get to the party and everything seems fine, although there are huge indoor sports arenas and just enough people to play soccor, (futball as they call it in Europe and around the rest of the world). We commence to play on teams that were chosen based on the color of clothing that we are wearing. I happened to be wearing a blue shirt, so I played on the blue team.

Even as I am playing soccer, I begin to wonder why we are paired up unnevenly--as in everyone from my team has more athletic ability than those on the other team. After the soccer game is over and we brutally win, I suggest another game where we even up the odds against the two teams. Instead of simply pairing the players up based on the color of clothing, I volunteer to be a captain and suggest another well suited gentelman, who I do not know, but played well last game, to be the other captain.

Everyone has a better game, with better competition than last time, but before we finish this game of soccer, a consensous is come to end the game and get back to imbibing alchohol and socializing with the women at the party who were watching from outside the indoor stadium. We all agree to get back to the party, and before too long, we are having fun mingling again.

The next scene comes when Heather leaves to go to the bathroom and I eat some hors' de vors held on trays by four beautiful women. As I speak with these lovely ladies, they begin pushing me towards the couch. I look up to see Heather (my wife in real life and in the dream) and she nods, as if to say that, what is coming--she knows about. One of the ladies with the food in hand, puts down the tray, then proceeds to pull out a syringe with orange liquid found inside. At first, I am stunned as to what she is going to do next, as well as afraid. Then, she finds my shoulder and quickly injects me with this liquid, as she ensures that everything will be ok.

Suddenly, I feel as if I am very tired, but still able to walk and talk with ease. Soon, I forget that I was just injected with a strange substance. The next thing I remember, in the dream, is that I wake up next to Heather in a strange bed. I feel the need to have sex with her, and then that commences right after we wake up....in my dream.

The second day of this saga went pretty quickly, and all I know was there was a side plot that played out, too complicated to mention. It involved lots of money, fake babies, and men and women pulling off masks after representing themselves as people that I should know....in the context of the dream, of course.

Skip to the third day, and here is the kicker. I am sitting at the party still, around a large, conference room table, and I have the feeling that these are the people who wanted something from me just the other night at the party, the ones who made me play soccer and injected me with what I can only guess was truth serom.

After discussing the events of the past two days with the 22 people around the table, they then all say "surprise!" They continue to mention that I am their new Vice President, branch manager, in Frankfurt, Germany and that I am being given the opportunity to relocate to Germany where I would manage the 22 people in my branch, as well as have better hours, so that I could spend time with Tyler (my two year old son), and Heather could stay home with him if she wished to.

So the whole sequence of the dream was a JOB INTERVIEW???? How strange, I thought. When I asked the people in charge of the "party interview" why they had injected me with a strange substance, they simply responded that it was akin to AT&T's perserverence testing and was all part of the interview plan!

Now someone please tell me that I do not have a novelist's imagination under there somewhere??????