I, too, have a dream
Words can be energized with the emotions of anger, elation, enthusiasm, passion, hope, despair and gut-wrenching desperation. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” inscribed on the Statue of Liberty, expresses our nation’s welcome to the oppressed of the world. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words in his “I Have a Dream” speech reflect on dark chapters of the past. They lament the reality that the darkness has not been overcome, yet in its shadow shines a beacon of hope that “a time will come … when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last, Free at last, Great God a-mighty, We are free at last.’” Courage and faith girded Dr. King’s impassioned dream of hope was expressed in an ominous darkness which soon would cost him his life.
Dreams can be like a bouquet of flowers having exquisite beauty and delicacy, as well as sharp thorns. A pipe dream is an unrealistic and virtually unattainable fantasy. Dreams can be aspirational milestones of attainable goals. Nightmares are disquieting dreams. A night terror is a nightmare screaming panic and alarm. Dreams are neurologically indispensable. Dreams bring symbolic awareness of important conditions and circumstances which could easily be glossed over due to an overload of incessant and innumerable sensory perceptions. For example, I had a dream when aviation was my passion. It was my recreation and mode of transportation. It displaced the stress encountered in my legal practice. I dreamt that I was behind the yoke of a winged behemoth having an enormous engine cowling. The engine was revved up at full power. The weight of the plane kept it from breaking ground as it rapidly neared the end of the runway. My dream sent a symbolic message. The cowling was my belly. The excessive weight I was propelling over the runway of life was dragging me down.
I recently had a dream fraught with symbolism. I invite the reader to chew the cud in order to divine its meaning. Two huge competing banquets were attended by loyal patrons coming from various regions of the land. Chefs slung hash at each other to be nominated to engage in a cook-off against the rival hash slinger designated at the opposing banquet. The winner would become chief chef and executive bottle washer and in charge of five dining hall security branches during the upcoming four years.
The front-runner at one of the banquets prevailed by a wide margin, although his sous-chef was not highly regarded in some culinary circles. This chef had a tattered and dog-eared cookbook. He doled out food outliving its expected shelf life and “sell by” expiration date by a long shot. Much produce on the banquet table crossed the nation’s borders without governmental inspection. Some imported spices were laced with illicit and hazardous substances.
A chef at the other banquet similarly prevailed by a wide margin. His cookbook included piquant and pungent recipes. He was an irascible. He had a penchant to fling hot potatoes at competing chefs or anyone else who faulted his menu. Those not on his guest list were banished to a soup kitchen. His table was heaped with good ol’ American pie touted to restore the nation’s larder with traditional, possibly not so fair, fare. He faced 91 pending complaints issued by public health agencies. Even if chosen chief chef extraordinaire, his restaurant license and lease might be revoked during the course of his tenancy.
I awoke befuddled, bedazzled and bewildered by what my nagging dream was trying to tell me. My brow was drenched with beads of sweat. My tummy rumbled and tumbled. I had acid reflux. I belched visceral eruptions. My dream apparently stressed the need that I eat only fresh, healthy and more nourishing food. I had better rid my pantry of empty calories, tempting chips and dips, sugar loaded treats and “bad” cholesterol laden foods. I hope against all hope that a younger chief chef-in-waiting will ultimately prevail who will give me a soothing dose of Pepto-bismol and a big, fat, juicy organic carrot.