The Naked Dream

The Naked Dream

I’ve always considered myself to be a fairly discreet person. After all my job at the bank requires it. I only let my hair—what’s left of it—down with my friends and family. I’m sure the public would say I’m a mild-mannered, polite fellow; they would probably say the same things about me that are said by next-door neighbors of the guy who turns out to be a serial killer. (“Quiet, kept to himself, didn’t get out much”.)

I have to admit my wife thinks I’m a little too free with our personal information. This may stem from the way I introduce her to people. I always begin by gallantly admitting that she is much younger than I—eleven years younger in fact. There is nothing wrong with that of course. She doesn’t mind if I tell people that.

I also like to say that my wife was only seven years old when I began working at the bank, which is true. I will then say—just in case someone would get the wrong idea--we didn’t start dating until she entered junior high. For some reason this sets my wife off.

“Why do you tell people that? Somebody might actually believe you”.

“I know, but it makes a better story.”

“You and your stories. You make yourself sound like Jerry Lee Lewis marrying his twelve year old cousin or something.”

So maybe she has a point. But I have learned over the years it’s good to open up to other people, to offer information that they might be curious about. For example, I have told people I have this fantasy where I return to high school and slap certain people silly. And darn, if they hadn’t had the same fantasy; and we would have a warm moment, locked in the notion of revenging our high school selves.

I must admit I have at times taken this idea too far. Recently I confided to a few co-workers that I sometimes have “The Naked Dream”. I explained that this is the dream where you seem to be rehearsing a different play than your fellow actors, and what’s worse, you realize that you are not in costume. In fact, you’re appearing in the altogether with the community theatre lights showing your every wrinkle.

Other times I said –this was turning out to be a monologue—I showed up naked at work. What was funny about the dream was no one else seemed to notice I was naked In the dream I’m always a little slow to realize that there is a problem. When I do, I’m terribly embarrassed. But everyone around me seems to be oblivious.

I stop mid-monologue when I realize my friends have puzzled looks on their faces. They each tell me that they’ve never had “The Naked Dream”. I am staggered by their comments. Why, I say, Dr. Freud assured us that this dream was universal—that everybody had the naked dream. (I consider myself something of an authority on Freud since I once read two paragraphs of his Civilization and its Discontents.)

And after I had repeated the word “naked” several more times, I noticed my coworkers trying to get my attention. I had forgotten the lobby was open. My little homily had drawn several customers who thought they had stumbled onto a very strange staff meeting.

One older gentleman that is a little hard of hearing asked me to repeat myself. “What did you say was going on in that play you were in?”

“ Well, it was only a dream”, I explained. “I thought I was naked.”

“You thought you were what?”

After several attempts to get the word across, I fairly shouted: “ I THOUGHT I WAS NAKED!”

“ No kidding!”

He turned to his wife and said: “He was naked, he says! Must have been some play! You should have told me you were in a naked play—I would have been in the front row.”

By that time we had set the world record for repetition of the word “naked” in a bank lobby. And before nightfall the rumor had spread all over town that I had appeared naked in a play.

So I may have been indiscreet on this occasion. It will take me a while to live down this latest incident. The staff likes to refer to it as my “I have a naked dream” speech.

It’s no wonder management loves me so much.