Pillows and Dreams

When I was a little girl, I asked my mom for a feather pillow. Not only did I want a soft downy pillow on which to sleep, I also wanted it to be encased in a luxurious satin pillowcase. I remember thinking to myself that this was a lofty expectation. At this point in my life I had a very specific plan. I was going to go to high school and ace every class, get a perfect score on the ACT & SAT's, work at a flower shop and be a cheerleader. Then I wanted to go to Harvard and be an actress, which for some reason didn't seem as lofty at the time as having a feather pillow with a satin pillowcase. It also seemed to make a lot of sense, which it obviously doesn't. Going to Harvard for Theatre makes about as much sense as going to AADA for Med School.

One day, I got home from school and there it was... my delightful new pillow. A goose feather down pillow covered in a shiny white satin pillowcase. I couldn't even wait to go to sleep that night... my dream had finally come true! I was on top of the world... I felt like now that I had gotten my pillow wish, any of my dreams could come true.

Fast-forward 12 years. I am sleeping on a flat, lumpy pillow stained yellow from someone's (presumably my dad's) oily head. I'm grudgingly continuing my education at the University of What the Hell Was I Thinking and my current plans? Marry rich and die young. Ok, while that would be nice (the marrying rich part), I'm actually planning on being a teacher. In which case I'll have to move to Connecticut because they pay their teachers WAY more than most states do. 10k more than Nebraska starting salary. So... not going to Harvard, not becoming an actress or the President, and sleeping on a lumpy old pillow with someone else's head stains.

I wonder if your pillow has anything to do with your dreams.