Last night I had a dream about a new Disney park called Life. One of the attractions within the park only admitted the dads, and it was called Work. Once I went in, I couldn’t get out.
Ordinarily I’d be bothered if I found myself dreaming in clichés, but this one got me thinking. Why, eight years into retirement, was I dreaming it now? Never in my life have I felt particularly trapped by a job. In one instance, while working for the Social Security Administration, I saw the potential for entrapment, so I quit after six months. Thirty-five years later, when I personally felt the growing bureaucracy of higher education start to creep in on me, I retired. I have been lucky in this regard.
Two possible reasons for the dream come to mind. One, I recently spoke with a good friend who started his own business and, while not trapped at retirement age, has obstacles to overcome before he feels like he’s leaving his professional legacy in good hands.
My friend’s situation made me look back on my own handing over of the reins. In my final job at the university, I had almost the opposite situation. In those last few years, I split time between two different divisions of the university. With both, there were competent people patiently waiting for me to leave. I’d done good work in both positions, but my energy was waning, and there were topnotch people ready to take over from where I left off.
The other possible reason for the dream is that I have felt a little bit trapped for the last two months. Not at work, but at home. Usually when Manyu leaves for Asia, there is a sense of freedom. I miss her, of course, but this is offset by having no one making demands on my time. This year has been different. With an aging and confused dog, I’ve become a caregiver. Jack deserves all of the attention I can give him, but it means that I go to the gym and otherwise stay home. I have not gone ice fishing all winter. I haven’t spent a morning in a coffee shop. I still play cards once a week, but the games always take place at my house.
As I look back on my dream, I now wish that I had a few more details.* For the past two years, most of my dreams have been lucid dreams. This means that I know when I am dreaming and I can wake myself up if the dream is unpleasant. I was not far into my Work dream when I intentionally cut it short. Would I have learned something valuable about myself had I let it play out?
* I vaguely remember a series of turnstiles in the dream. None of the dads wanted to pass through them, but the only two options were to go through the turnstiles or stay where we were.
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