I've been living in semi-quarantine for more than 200 days, and frankly, I've gotten used to it, more or less. Most of my old habits mesh with the new ones, so I'm good.
In the 68 minute period between my first trip to the bathroom of the night, and the time I got up for good, I had the first pandemic-related dream that I can remember, and it was weird.
I'm in a grocery store that has self-checkout stations. My cart is full, and I've scanned about half of the items. I'm ready to scan a quart jar of my favorite delicious mayonnaise when I notice there's a long crack in the glass, and something that looks like buttermilk is leaking out.
An older woman in a red smock walks up and says she'll keep an eye on my basket while I go to get another jar of mayo. She's not wearing a face mask, and she asks me to remove mine while she talks quietly in my ear.
When I locate the store aisle with the mustard and mayonnaise, I discover that the only mayonnaise in stock is a powder that turns to mayo when you add water. That doesn't sound good, so I decide to skip it. I go back to finish checking out, and discover the older lady in the red smock and my basket of groceries have disappeared.
I leave the store in search of Red Smock, and walk into what seems like an arena where NBA games are played. It's very dark, but I can tell there are many unmasked people in the seats. In the center of the court, Tom Cruise, a pretty girl, and several other men are performing a play in an area illuminated by a spotlight. I stop to watch. Tom is arguing about something with the men, and stops to tell the pretty girl that he'll come back for her soon. Since there are so many unmasked people in the arena, I decide it's not safe. Suddenly I'm in what looks like a rundown industrial district I've never seen. Across the road, about 20 men in dark brown uniforms are carrying brooms, and I assume they're prisoners who have been sentenced to hard labor, sweeping trash off the sidewalks.
As I walk away from the prisoners, an elderly man with an evil smile steps in front of me and tells me to remove my mask. He's right in my face, which makes me uneasy. He asks me to take his bird so the wild dogs can't kill it. Since I don't see a bird, I'm sure it's a trick. I run away, moving effortlessly at great speed. It's like I'm gliding, but I realize I left my mask behind, and will need to keep running indefinitely.
At that moment, I wake up needing another bathroom break.
In grad school, I heard a great lecture by a professor who had worked for several years in the area of dream research. I learned that dreams are basically a form of de-cluttering that is essential for good mental health. Fortunately, real life in the pandemic hasn't been as stressful as it was in that dream.
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