What A Cliche, but TGIF

Any magic or feeling of Existentialism I had when I woke up has been completely lost and is not likely to return today.

To begin, most of my nocturnal dreams are based in reality. That is to say, they generally feature people I know performing everyday actions in everyday conditions. Most dreams are very forgettable, to say the least. But every once in a while, I'll have a dream that is actually open to interpretation.

Last night, I dreamt that I had been transformed into a scarab. I remember desert and pyramids. The ancient Egyptians believed the scarab to be a very sacred symbol. As the scarab rolled his dung ball across the desert, it mirrored Ra, the sun god, as he rolled across the sky. Because the sun followed a set path across the sky and rose and set at fixed intervals, the scarab became a symbol of rebirth, resurrection, and the afterlife. Amulets and other jewelry featuring the sacred beetle were worn for protection and placed in tombs to guide and protect after death.

Sometime during this dream, however, my wife rolled over and elbowed me squarely in the back. In an instant, my dream changed from a mythological creature of regeneration to an insect being pinned to a mat for some kid's entomological school project. Not a way to wake up.

Still, I was able to ride what was left of the Jungian high the first dream gave me. Jung was the among the first, if not the first, to to move away from the Oedipal Complex and analyze events through the prism of the collective conscious, coining the term synchronicity. He often used mythological archetypes in his analyses. Like Paul Vitti said, Freud is a sick guy.

So, before I got dressed, I pulled out my books of Jung and ancient Egypt and browsed through them learning more of the scarab.

My early morning study was interrupted with a call from Melissa informing of a flat tire. So, I hurried out the door to help. Luckily, she was only a couple of miles down the road and was able to pull onto a flat parking area.

I thought, I can do this bada-boom bada-bing and we'll both be on our way. However, the jack that the car company supplied her with, fully extended, does not lift the SUV high enough to put the spare on. However, I wasn't aware of this quirky feature until it was too late. So, I took it down, created as much lift as I could and re-extended the jack. Still about half a centimeter short. My back was starting to ache and my temper starting to frazzle.

Not wanting to waste more time and energy, I got back in the car, drove to brother-in-law's house for his pneumatic jack. Just as I was on my way back, Melissa called and said the spare was on and she was on her way to work. Three nationals (read: guest workers) saw a lady in distress, pulled over, and put the new tire on in a handful of minutes. Not needing it anymore, I turned around the drop the jack off and rolled into work an hour late. At least Melissa was able to say Gracias as they were about to drive away.

So, there's my day. Hope yours is better.