Biff America: Better kilted than killed (column)
My mate still has wild dreams about me — she’s only human.
She admitted, “I had a wild dream about you last night.”
She dropped that bombshell as we were sitting at the breakfast table filling out our ballots for November’s midterm election. Being politically likeminded, the two of us were in agreement on most of the issues; those that we were unsure of, we discussed.
I like the idea of the mail-in ballot, but the traditionalist in me insists on dropping my votes off in person.
I knew that once we hit the polling place that we would have no privacy, so I tried to steer the conversation away from the issues and back to my mate’s sexy dream about me.
I asked, “So what about that dream? Was I running towards you shirtless through a field of wildflowers looking like that sexy guy in the TV show Outlander?” (Ellie has been binge-watching that show, set in Scotland, featuring copious amount of lovemaking.) She tried to change the subject to ask about how I voted for CU regents.
It’s funny, you share over a quarter-century with someone, yet there are still some things that can make them blush.
I knew if she was that shy about it, it must have been spicy and, in the back of my mind, was an offer to recreate her Outlander dream even if it meant wearing a kilt. I looked to her and said, “For God’s sake Ellie, just tell me about it.”
With obvious reluctance she said, “I dreamt that I was trying to kill you.” That got my attention. “Why were you were trying to kill me?” I asked.
My mate misunderstood my question. “With one of those axes that firemen use. You know, with a blade on one side and a pointy thing on the other. I think it was red.”
“Ellie, I don’t mean HOW but WHY? Did I at least have my shirt off?” She answered, “I don’t remember what you were wearing, and I’m not sure why I was trying to kill you but, to your credit, you were really putting up a good fight.”
C.G. Jung said that dreams are the door to the soul. Well, I certainly hope that is not true in this particular case. But that said, I suppose that dreams are not meant to be taken literally. Perhaps, in my mate’s consciousness, she desires to see me run through a field of wildflowers shirtless and kilted. But that desire was manifested in her dreams as chasing me around with an ax. Or perhaps, that part and parcel of sharing a life with someone is that occasionally you drive them crazy.
The polling place was packed. We took our place in line next to an older couple. When you live in a small town there are countless people whom you know by sight but not by name. This couple looked to be in their 70s, probably retired; they walked in holding hands. They seemed to know who we were.
The gentleman said, “You’re not on the ballot this year.” I told him I was not but he could write my name somewhere. He said something to the effect that he’d be more inclined to scratch it out and we both laughed.
As were being processed through the line, I heard the guy ask his wife, “Do you have my reading glasses?” “No, but I have mine, would you like to borrow them?” she replied with a just a little annoyance.
We proceeded to the counter and I heard the man say, “Honey, where is my driver’s license?” His wife was filling out some form and seemed to be having some difficulty doing so without her reading glasses. She didn’t immediately respond, so he asked her again.
“Your driver’s license,” she said, “should be in your wallet in the front pocket of your jacket that you hung on that chair by the door.”
The older woman mumbled something to Ellen and they both laughed.
Our civic duty done, we left the polling place and headed out the door.
Ellie said, “That couple was so cute. You could tell that they really loved each other.” I agreed and thought to myself that much of love is the ability to revel in what you love about your mate while not letting their weirdness drive you nuts.
The beautiful truth is that after years of sharing a life, home and bed with another person, it is very possible to love them with all your heart but still occasionally have dreams of killing them with an ax. I’m hoping Ellie has more dreams of me running through wildflowers in a kilt, topless, with the sun glistening off my sweaty, muscular chest, than she has chasing me with an ax.
But I am going to try to remember to keep track of my identification and reading glasses. No sense tempting fate………….
Jeffrey Bergeron, under the alias of Biff America, can be read in several newspapers and magazines. He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org. Biff’s new book “Mind, Body, Soul.” is available at local shops and bookstores or Shop.holpublications.com/products/biff-america-mind-body-soul.
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