Daydreams and Nightmares by Nannette Croce

"When one of your dreams come true, you begin to look at the others more carefully."
-Anon.

Lately I’m experiencing the convergence of dream types––the day kind and the night (mare) kind. In a few weeks I’m attending a writing workshop where, for one week, I will live the college life for the first time in 33 years.

In the day I dream of the workshop leader meeting me over coffee to (privately) praise my work. Casually mentioning she knows the editor of the New Yorker and, by the way, will judge the Best Story in the World competition this year––wink, wink.

At night I dream of being stranded, naked, in a dorm bathroom, forced to walk down the hall to my room––all my jiggling flesh exposed. Or sprouting a full beard because I have no light or mirror to pluck my chin hairs.

This is not really about the physical. I am not so vain I can’t spend one week not looking my best with people I don’t know. It’s really the opposite, that dressing professionally and talking myself up won’t do it this time. I have to produce.

By day I’ve dreamed of attending this workshop since I passed it up four years ago to attend my daughter’s graduation. It’s not Bread Loaf, but they don’t accept everyone. In my night dreams I worry. Am I really still good enough? The story I submitted was an old one. Am I too old? Can I handle the rigors? Can I produce in short periods of time with others around?

I guess I’ll have to see, but I know one thing. My worst nightmare is a life with no more challenges. Deep down, it’s challenges like this that keep me feeling vibrant and alive and dreaming.