Not too long ago, I had an odd dream in which my wife, Stefanie, and I were living in a bungalow, perhaps on a golf course. This place was small. As far as I could tell, it only had two rooms, a living room and a bedroom. Since Stefanie (who is better than me in every conceivable way) was still living there, I assume there was a kitchen and a bathroom, but that was it. In this dream, I was not feeling well and was in bed, but I was awake in the middle of the day with the bedroom door shut. Stefanie was in the adjacent living room, when my father showed up. I could hear him telling her that I needed to start a paper route.
Apparently, I had been sick for a while because I hadn’t been working – which had something to do with why we were living in a bungalow, I suppose. In the dream, I was thinking that I appreciated Dad’s help (because we either had been relying on it or would soon be forced to do so), but I was also thinking that he had, sort of, uhmm… lost his mind!
“A paper route, seriously?”
At that point, my dad opened the bedroom door, walked in wearing a blue, three-piece suit, stopped resolutely and said, “Thou shalt start a paper route.”
Several impressions came to me nearly simultaneously. I was not going to argue with him because he was really serious and I was going to listen because he deserved it. Also, he was young, perhaps 40 years old (in reality – whatever that is – my dad is 88). As I was processing this, I became aware in the dream that I was dreaming (a big deal, which I will discuss another time, perhaps). It struck me that God was appearing to me as my Father in the dream, and that I needed to pay earnest attention. In the dream, I began to think about what the dream meant, and I woke up.
As I was waking, it occurred to me that God was telling me to write a blog, which I had been contemplating.
For the next hour or so, I stayed in bed, wondering what to write in this blog: short stories, spiritual things, poetry… political ravings? I told my wife about it. She was supportive, but she had that look she gets when she thinks I am getting ready to start something I won’t finish, while insisting that I will one day, but leaving it (somewhat permanently) strewn about our lives in all its disheveled glory. Stef does not, even remotely, like that. She tolerates it (sort of) because she loves me and she is stuck with me.
Dreams are important to me. Growing up, my family discussed dreams over breakfast and my mother wrote them down in a journal. I talked to her about this one. She said that she did not know what the blog should be about, but insisted that she knew the name- The Paper Route. I like that name, but it would feel like I was scamming on the band’s brand – and I love their song, “Calm My Soul.”
So I chose the current name for my blog. It is kind of dorky, but that fits me. And that is that.
Now, what I am going to write? I don’t know. Stuff? Whatever comes out.