Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future …

Last night I dreamed that one of my coworkers came into my bedroom and stood over sleeping me, staring down at me until I woke up.  When I saw her by the bed, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “Do you know what time it is?”

Maybe there’s more to the dream, but that’s what I remember.  I put this dream in the same category as the ones I have before a trip (finding myself on a plane with no ticket or passport or idea of where I’m headed, for example).  I’m in the throes of some serious time anxiety.  These grant proposals are kicking my butt, and it is, truly, later than I think.

I made a little progress today, but tomorrow … tomorrow is the day it all has to come together.  Has to.  Think I’m a little nervous?  That’s the only way I can explain the appearance of my time-keeping co-worker in my dream.

For now, time for sleep (and hopefully no visits from my workplace).  In the morning, I’ll check in with Salvador.  I think he found a way to get hold of time …

Click over to Two Writing Teachers to see what the other slicers are up to!


8 thoughts on “Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future …

  1. My mother would say, “You know you’re spending too much time at work when people you see during the day start showing up in your dreams at night.” I hope there’s an end in sight for your grant proposals, and I hope they are all successful!

    Sleep well!

    -Carrie F.


  2. Adding the art shows you still have retained your sense of humor! Best wishes that it all will end tomorrow, & you can begin celebrating the arrival of spring. (I’m glad you recorded your dream-pretty interesting.)


  3. A couple of nights ago I dreamed I was in a room full of artists, but none of them would talk to me. I waited for a long time for one of them to come out of the restroom, then when she did, I went inside and carefully locked all the locks on the back of the door (there were maybe three or four). I’m still wondering what that was all about.


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