I've been looking for a job lately - in the field of writing. I figure this is what I really want to do, so what am I waiting for? A letter from Random House telling me to just go for it?
So I've been sending letters, emails, carrier pigeons to anyone that even smells of needing to work with a writer.
Yesterday I got a bite!
My first reaction was to think it was a scam. I mean, must be - right? Once that passed I realize it was an honest opportunity so I started checking the job out - pays decent, pretty much a one shot deal, but hey! Getting writing credits is a good thing!
OK - I'm going to do this!! I'M GOING TO DO THIS!
As the night progressed it all started to dwindle down into, "No, I can't do this." My lack of self-esteem gravitated toward the basement and then, as I was drifting off to sleep, I began to fight with myself - because I'm good that.
"Give me a sign!" I muttered in my head.
Really -A? They wrote you and offered you a chance at a job, what do you want now? Them to show up at your house with paper and a pen?
As the fight ensued (and I moved to the couch because the snoring was interrupting the argument in my head) I finally began to drift off to sleep... and then I had this dream.
I was lying flat on my back wearing a long white gown, my hair laying around me, my arms folded across my chest. I was looking down at myself as my husband lifted me up and placed me in a clear glass box. He was speaking to someone else - and right now I don't remember exactly what was said, but it came down to this.
Save me for later. Like I was limiting myself by being put in a glass coffin so people could see me, but that was it.
When I woke up, and the dream played out in full in my no so conscience head, I heard, "Look mom! I'm a metaphor" in my voice. So I stood up, laughed at myself and went back to bed.
My lord... I'm going to attempt to take this job!
Wish me luck!!