In the middle of washing dishes, completely randomly, I remembered I had a dream last night that I was talking to my niece about disco. One of my nieces is four. The other, not yet 1. I was talking to the one who can talk. And we were sharing the joy of disco. I don't even think we were listening to it! Just out of the blue she said "I like disco." And so it began.
I was insisting it was as wonderful - probably even more wonderful - than she thought it was. And I was talking about all these fabulous disco songs she needed to hear, and landed upon the Disco Mickey Mouse record that I unearthed in my parents' record collection a few years back. A goldmine of disco grooves that feature Disney characters almost spoofing/more homaging popular disco songs (which I love every time I hear one of them on the radio and think fondly of Donald Duck's similar version), I immediately absconded with the record, as my roommate at the time had a record player in California. Now I still have the record, but not a record player. And so, in the dream, the realization that I could NOT share my love of a great record with my niece was a crushing blow. I was failing to educate her as well, having no faith in my brother's respect for disco, apparently.
As I washed a pot with some spinach stuck to the edges, I realized that my subconscious had been using Disco Mickey Mouse as a symbol of my anxiety and sadness about being far from my nieces and losing opportunities to share important passions with them - like disco. Somehow that in itself was surprising, yet not, yet hilarious. What symbolized exactly what they needed to know and understand and appreciate that no one could teach them but me? Disco. And Disney disco at that.
Ah the mind works in mysterious, funky ways.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment