One benefit of Peace Corps service is sleeping. I have never slept so much in my entire life. It's great.
In the winter, it's cold at night. There's nothing to do, and the best place in town is under all the blankets you own. So that's where I go, usually waiting until at least 10 pm, but increasingly hitting the bed even earlier. I almost never have anything to do before 10, and rarely have to be anywhere before 3 in the afternoon, so I don't exactly have to get up and at 'em early in the day.
As anybody who regularly sleeps 10 hours at a stretch while simultaneously being bombarded by low-grade food poisoning knows, you have some nutso dreams. Last night's was particularly vivid.
I was at home in DC. I was feeling pretty good because in the dream I'd just been exercising outside, something I've been missing quite a lot recently. I'd gotten back from my run and was in the kitchen, cooking something, presumably something good and American and with absolutely no cumin involved. My mom was there, and so were about 30 small Moroccan children, sitting both inside at the breakfast bar and out in the yard around some tables. They were all eating quietly. That right there should have tipped me off that it was a dream, but I guess I didn't want to realize that. The children all sort of hovered passively at the edges of the dream, not interfering. I was having a conversation with my mom. She was saying something about some family friends we would go see later, who may want to talk a bit about what the peace corps was like. Then I thought, wow, that last year or so passed by in a flash. Something struck me then and I was filled with dread. I asked my mom if I was done, and she said no, of course not, you have to go back- you're not even half way done. And then I woke up.
No comments:
Post a Comment