"This job is robbing me of my dreams--literally."

One thing I used to love about a day of skiing was the inevitable all-night-skiing- dream I would have when I went to sleep that night. It was as if my muscles would fail to recognize that I had stopped skiing so that, when I went to bed, my sub-conscious mind would put me back on the slopes. It was like having a night of mistake-free runs down a perfect mountain at no cost.

This penomenon extends to a number of repetetive physical activities, including soccer and swimming, which cast one into dreams of fresh air and triumph. But way more commonly, involuntary dreams result from waiting tables. Seriously. Ask anyone who is, or has been, a server for any length of time if they ever involuntarily dream about work. The answer you will get, unanimously, is that they were plagued by dreams about work. It's so wrong.


Not only do you come home at three-o'clock in the morning, covered from head to toe in beef and cheese smell, you are forced to relive hours of hard labor in your most private dream time. And it's never the niceties that may occur in the course of a shift of which there are many. Every serving dream I've heard is that of a sinking ship full of cruel, hungry, fat people and you're the Captain.

Why can't all dreams be about saving beutiful women from oncoming trains? Or flying? Have you ever dreamed you were flying? Of course you have. Lord it is fine.