Super Ego | Wayfarer

So, I had this dream.

I was standing in the hall of the Pella Community Center looking at an interactive map of the world. This is funny since the only interactive things in the Pella Community Center are flush toilets. Anyway, I was standing there thinking I was looking at a street in London and realizing it was a golf course in New York, when Robert Redford walks up to me and says, “Hey, Tom.”

“Hey, Bob,” I answered. Crap. I just called Robert Redford “Bob.” I don’t know him, of course, but he just addressed me on as if we were on a first name basis, so I just went with it.

“The men’s club would like to come see the show you’re directing, ‘Best Christmas Pageant Ever.’ We would need, like, 500 seats. Can you make that happen?” he asked.

There are two problems with this question. First, I have no idea what men’s club he’s talking about. Second, the Joan Kuyper Farver Auditorium in the Pella Community Center only seats 330 people max.

“Sure, Bob. I can make that happen,” I answered calmly.

“WHAT?!” My ego screamed at my super-ego deep within REM sleep as it frantically accessed all sorts of hidden synapses in my brain trying to figure out how on earth I was going to get an extra 200 seats in the auditorium in the next four weeks.

“Hey!” my super-ego snobbishly retorted to my critical, moralizing ego. “When ROBERT REDFORD addresses you on a FIRST NAME BASIS and asks you for a favor YOU DON’T SAY ‘NO!!!'”

It was then that my id graciously woke me up to pee. I was angling towards one helluvan anxious nightmare.