Dream journal: A lion in the crowd

Night before last, I had an interesting dream. (Well, interesting to me anyway.) I was in Seattle Center at the Armory (formerly the Center House) having lunch with my brother. He got up to get some ketchup and my far-away friend BK came by to say hello. We hugged, chatted and he left. My brother came back and I told him he'd missed BK. "Well, crap," he said. "It would have been cool to meet him." I got up to go look for BK, to see if I could catch him before he left the area. When I went outside to find him, I discovered that people were leaving the area and then I came face to face with the reason why: a big Serengeti lion was stalking towards me. That's when I woke up.

I'm a pretty cognitive dreamer. I know what this dream was about.

BK is a rather formidable guy with a LOT of brains, a strong military background and a ferociously independent political streak. More than any other veteran I know, he--and his wife--are outspoken, plain-spoken, and have no time for bullshit, so when debates flare up on Facebook, they waste no time in telling you exactly what they think in unvarnished and often pretty brutal terms. You return the volley or admit you're outgunned and step away. On the one hand, I admire this forthrightness. On the other hand, it's hard to be on the business end of such fire, especially given the premium I put on being careful, polite, and thoughtful with those about whom I care.

I was on the business end of such fire recently, and it upset me. I stepped away from the exchange pretty quickly, understanding that a) political debates on Facebook get very heated very fast, B) I don't always have the presence of mind to manage my own response in such situations in a measured, objective way, and C) my investment in the substance of the debate was pretty low but my response to the language used in my direction was pretty high. It wasn't personal; it was debate, which is why I've weighed my response so carefully.

In the wake of that exchange, though, I've made a point to keep political debate off of my Facebook wall, and I've kept some distance between myself and BK online. BK has shown up in conversations on my wall since then, responding in friendly, pretty benign ways. The dream I noted above came in the wake of his posting a humorous video to my wall that entertained me and that was meant as a gesture of friendship and goodwill. The dream was a reminder that, like a lion, which is strong and beautiful and appealing, my friend is also a formidable, dangerous man and to act accordingly.

BK and I live very different lives. It's one of the reasons that I've maintained the connection--not the only one, by any means, but it's an important aspect of the friendship to me. I live in such a comfortable bubble, surrounded by people who live in ways very similar to mine. He has gone places and done things that I don't know if I'd have the fortitude to do, even with training. This friendship--maybe friendly acquaintanceship is a better description--is a reminder to be aware that not everyone lives the safe, comfortable life that I do, that people make choices significantly different than the ones I make, have different priorities and perspectives. It's important. But it's not always easy.

Last-minute latkes

Several friends have mentioned to me this week that they had attended Chanukah parties. These friends are all far away. No one locally is having Chanukah parties; such a small percentage of my local friends are Jewish, and most of them are involved with their families. No parties were in the offing. So yesterday, as is so often the case when I want to have a Thing, I decided to have a Chanukah/latke party this afternoon for myself, which is what I did.

I invited about 10 people over, only one of whom is actually a member of the tribe (that being my most fine and precious suricattus). She brought delicious home-made apple sauce. EB and CH brought Martinelli's Sparkling Cider. varina8 brought veggies and hummus. I made and served many latkes. I lit my chanukiah. I read everyone a charming little picture book called "The Hanukkah Mice." And I enjoyed the company of my friends. It was a goodness.



And now the house is quiet and still, and smells like latkes. It was quiet and still before the party and I felt terribly lonely. I don't quite feel that way now, but I'm not ready to go to bed. Perhaps I'll read for a while and then hit the sack. I hope the kitties come to sleep with me. It's always better when they're both there.