Red Sweater Dreams
Sometimes I have dreams so real that I wake up and have to remind myself that they are in fact a dream. And to do that, I have to find some incongruity in the dream that is my proof, like friends from different eras in my life are both in the dream and that in itself is proof that it is a dream. My high school best friend cannot possibly be drinking beer with a work colleague.Last night I had one of those dreams. But before I start the dream, you must realize where I am in my life. I am six weeks from leaving Vermont and busy interviewing with two different places where I will either work or complete my internship next year. (The major difference in those choices has to do with commitment and pay.) This is a big decision for me and I am not alone in this decision. I spend hours on the phone discussing the options with Kevin and hours with all my classmates who are going through the exact same process. So the decision is on my mind constantly, interrupting my sleep, preventing me from finishing up my four long research papers that I must complete, and distracting me during long lectures.
I dreamed last night that I starting my first day of my internship. I was wearing a wonderful ‘dress for success” suit with matching power shoes and had arrived exactly fifteen minutes early, the precise time that communicates total preparedness, but not desperation. When I walked into the office, I was greeted by a girl that was no older than sixteen and who had an absolute arrogance that she was my new boss. I was confused by the situation because in my mind I was remembering the wonderful interview I had with a woman who was a tad older than me, a woman who seemed full of amazing and wonderful ideas. Ideas that would seep into my brain and become part of my day-to-day thinking. But she was nowhere to be found.
The girl walked me through the offices and soon we were in a store that I am very familiar with; Lane Bryant in the Broward Mall in Ft. Lauderdale. (I worked there when I was about 16.) The girl walked me through all the racks of oversized clothes until we reached the front of the store. And there she pointed to a huge box of red sweaters. She took one out and showed me exactly how to fold it a certain way and then hang it on these complex hangers. “You must do it just like this or the sweaters won’t fit on the hangers and they will look big and customers won’t buy them.” I stood there in total amazement, not because I was surprised by the technique, but rather because I knew this exact technique and I could not figure out why I was here. “You must then colorize them.”
I interrupted her and said, “But they are ALL red.”
She shook her head and looked at me as if I was a complete amateur. “No! They are all not the same exact red. They are different. You have to LOOK closely at these things.”
I looked around the store and realized that the store was full of red sweaters. They had slightly different tints, as if the dye had not been consistent, and there were lots off different sizes.
She handed me a pager and said, “Now, when you are finished with this box, you just ring this button and I will bring out more sweaters for you to hang up. You can’t leave the front of the store, someone must be here to meet the customers. To make sure they don’t steal anything.”
“And do I do this ALL day? Or are you going to teach me to run the cash register so we can change jobs.” I asked.
“Oh no, the cash register is only for full-time employees and YOU are an intern. So y
ou only get to fold sweaters,” she replied and walked to the back of the store, leaving me next to the huge box of sweaters.
I was furious and could hardly think. But it was then that I began to realize this had to be a dream. Red sweaters, nobody would sell just all red sweaters. Maybe khaki or black or at least black, white and khaki. But not just red.
I went back to my dream. I picked up one of the red sweaters and walked to the back of the store. I found the cash register and I rang the bell. The girl came out and she looked in a complete and total panic because I wasn’t at the front of the store. I said, “I would like to buy this sweater, and I don’t suppose that I get an employee discount. After all, I am just an intern. So let me pay full price so that I can get out of this dream.”
This morning when I woke up I laughed about the dream and realized how we all feel a sense of vulnerability when we decide to change something in our lives. Will it be what we hoped? Or will we be stuck folding red sweaters all day with a technique that lets them fit on the hanger and makes them look smaller so the customers will buy them?
“And do I do this ALL day? Or are you going to teach me to run the cash register so we can change jobs.” I asked.
“Oh no, the cash register is only for full-time employees and YOU are an intern. So y
ou only get to fold sweaters,” she replied and walked to the back of the store, leaving me next to the huge box of sweaters.I was furious and could hardly think. But it was then that I began to realize this had to be a dream. Red sweaters, nobody would sell just all red sweaters. Maybe khaki or black or at least black, white and khaki. But not just red.
I went back to my dream. I picked up one of the red sweaters and walked to the back of the store. I found the cash register and I rang the bell. The girl came out and she looked in a complete and total panic because I wasn’t at the front of the store. I said, “I would like to buy this sweater, and I don’t suppose that I get an employee discount. After all, I am just an intern. So let me pay full price so that I can get out of this dream.”
This morning when I woke up I laughed about the dream and realized how we all feel a sense of vulnerability when we decide to change something in our lives. Will it be what we hoped? Or will we be stuck folding red sweaters all day with a technique that lets them fit on the hanger and makes them look smaller so the customers will buy them?
By Linda English
