I've always had very vivid dreams since I was a kid and I usually remember them quite clearly (even the ones from when I was a small child). Not only are my nocturnal activites fantastically detailed, they're also incredibly potent. They sit with me for days sometimes, or they'll instantly pop into my head when the events of real life intersect on that somnambulistic plane, like some kind of quasi-deja vu. I don't often find much symbolism in my dreams, however. While I'm sure they're trying to tell me something unconsciously, I don't find the message very often. Usually it's just a five-hour romp through the dead of night with the Halloween killer Michael Myers on my trail; that, or maybe I'll hangout with an old friend I haven't seen in a while. Basic stuff. Last night, however, I had an experience that was like something out of the old Herman Hesse novel Steppenwolf.

I was sitting in a movie theater packed with people. The lights were dimmed and there was a highlight reel being played on the screen, full of tribute clips meant to celebrate certain members of the audience. It was like something they play before a baseball player gets inducted into the Hall of Fame, or when the Academy Awards pays homage to the actors and actresses who have died over the past year. As soon as a new person's tribute would appear on the screen, that person would stand up in the audience and take a bow as the rest of the theater cheered and applauded. After a few minutes it turned into a roudy celebration of hip-hip-hoorays. I was sitting on the right side of the room and I was thinking to myself, "Maybe they'll put me on the screen and I'll be able to have my own moment in the sun." But as the plaudits continued I was not included. It made me very sad and also very anxious, sitting there watching dozens of others get their recognition while I was being left out. That's the last emotion I remember feeling before I woke up in a sweat.

I like to think that were this somewhat-Orwellian awards ceremony to occur in reality, I would shake my head and want no part of it. I would head for the door and get away from such a self-aggrandizing spectacle. I like to hope that today I can simply be satisfied with my own sense of accomplishment and not rely on the praise of others for my own self worth.

I hope that's the case.

-David Driscoll

David Driscoll