My daughter dropped by the house this past Saturday morning to give me a chance to see and play with my grandsons and the first words out of her mouth were, “Boy, Dad, you wouldn’t believe the incredible dream I had last night!”
“And I don’t want to know anything about it,” I said without hesitation, having spent countless years hearing all about my daughter’s weird and sometimes downright scary dreams.
“But this one was all about you,” she said.
“Then I definitely don’t want to hear about it!”
“But it didn’t have any wild beasts chasing me around and trying to kill me or anything like that” she assured me. “In fact, there was no blood and guts at all in this one. You can handle it.”
“Look, Carrie,” I said as nicely as I could, “as much as I love the conscious you, you and I both know that your dream-life is beyond strange. Now when you were younger, I just thought it was a stage you were going through , but as the years went by with you reporting a terrifying dream almost every morning of your adolescent life, it finally dawned on me that the unconscious you is best left not discussed in too much detail, if at all!”
“But I thought you liked hearing about all my dreams when I was little.”
“No, I didn’t,” I admitted. “I just said that when you were young because I was trying to be one of those good fathers who actually listen to what their kids say.”
“Well,” she said, “I still want to tell you about my latest dream because it was all about you.”
“Okay,” I said reluctantly, “you can tell me, but it better not end up with some multi-fanged creature previously unknown to science gnawing away on one of your limbs or something!”
“No,” she assured me, “it was nothing like that. In fact, it took place on a bright and sunny day in Australia, and you know how much you love Australia.”
“So, just what were you and I doing in Australia?” I asked cautiously.
“Actually, it wasn’t just the two of us. The whole family was there, and we were all a lot younger than we are now. And we were on this big luxury boat, a yacht actually, out in Sydney Harbor, right next to that fancy opera house they have there on the water’s edge.”
“We were on a yacht in Sydney Harbor?” I asked, “the West Sacramento Fisher family? That’s quite a dream you had alright.”
“Oh yeah, and the thing was huge, too, and then over the loud-speaker the captain of the boat suddenly said that Daryl Fisher – he pronounced your name very slow and carefully – was supposed to immediately report to his cabin for a treasure hunt. And you were supposed to bring your whole family with you, too.”
“A treasure hunt?” I asked.
“That’s right, and when we all got to the captain’s cabin, we were all really excited and wondering what this was all about.”
“So,” I asked with interest, “what was it about?”
“Well,” explained my daughter in great detail, “the captain’s cabin was real fancy and decorated with all these shiny nautical things and off in one corner were these three giant treasure chests, and after the captain shook hands with you and flirted with mom a little bit he asked you to choose one of the treasure chests and said you would get to keep what was inside the one that you picked.”
“Really?” I asked.
“And do you want to know what the captain – who looked just like Brad Pitt except he had a black patch over one eye — said was inside the three treasure chests?”
“I’m afraid to ask.” I said.
“Well, he said that in one was the keys to another luxury boat just like the one we were on, and that in another were the keys to a giant brick mansion in downtown Sydney, and that the last one was full of cash totaling over one million dollars.”
“Wow,” I said, “it sounds like your dream somehow got me to Australia’s version of `Let’s Make A Deal”, except every single one of the doors had something really good behind it.”
“Well,” said my daughter sadly, “that’s what we all thought, too, until you finally made your choice and there was nothing but freshly baked croissants in the treasure chest you picked out.”
“Croissants?” I asked my daughter with a smile. “You mean those things you eat all the time with your morning coffee at La Bou’s?”
“That’s right,” answered my daughter. “Nothing but dozens and dozens of worthless croissants.”
“But what happened to the Sydney mansion, and the yacht, and all that cash?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “when I woke up all I could think about was going to La Bou’s and getting a croissant.”
“Well,” I said to my daughter, “after all these years, I think I finally know what one of your dreams means.”
“And what is that?” my daughter asked with interest.
“Well, to begin with, the fact that I picked out a treasure chest full of worthless croissants instead of one overflowing with a million bucks means you have a really good understanding of your father’s luck.”