I Had A Dream
I spent roughly four days setting up Windows Small Business Server 2003 for my father’s business. Frankly, I’m amazed it worked so well. I’m a computer software developer by trade; so naturally, I am a wizard at all things computer related. Just ask anybody in my family. I accepted the task with all the dignity I could muster. But, I had never installed a server in my life. Thanks to Microsoft, I was able to get the system running and stable. The job was well out of the scope of my daily tasks as a developer, but I managed to complete it with my reputation intact. I hope. I have since discovered that people get paid roughly $90/hour for several days in a row to perform exactly this service. My self-worth increased immensely. I’m such a shmuck.
Following this marathon installation, I had an interesting dream. Who cares? Well, that’s really a good question. I guess I do. So, I’ll spill my guts right here. The dream seemed to be about pushing my son just a little too hard—a little farther than he is capable of going right now.
It was an overcast day and my son and I were enjoying a nice ride in my pickup. We came to a wooded state park and drove through the gate. Trees, limbs, leaves and even broken chunks of concrete littered the roadway. A storm of some kind had ripped the place apart. I picked my way through the clutter, straining to see the road in the dimming light.
Eventually, we reached a point where the truck would no longer pass. My son and I hopped out and navigated the road on foot. A large toppled tree blocked our way. It’s huge, flat mass of roots excavated the roadside. We climbed onto the trunk and weaved through the branches. I was having difficulty because there was something in my hand.
My son told me that he was afraid. He didn’t want to go any farther. I encouraged him to go on ahead; I knew he could do it. He wasn’t so sure. But, he trusted my belief in him and climbed on ahead of me. As I was picking my way through a tough spot, I looked up for just a moment. I saw him sidling along the edge of the tree, holding some very flimsy branches. Fear painted his face, and he looked at me at that same instant. I struggled harder to get myself free of the branches to reach him and lend a hand. Unfortunately, the twigs he held snapped free of the trunk. He fell.
In that strange, surreal narration that dreams take, I suddenly realized that we were hundreds of feet in the air. I watched horrified as my son plummeted screaming into the abyss. His scream stopped before he hit the ground. But, he did hit the ground. My only blood born son was dead. It was my fault. There was no escaping the reality of the situation. I had no options. I had no road back. In computer terms, there was no recovery disk.
I turned away from the image of my son lying curled at the bottom of the ravine. I took one last sip of Starbucks from the cup still clutched in my right hand. Then I allowed myself to fall from the log as well. My flight, of course, did not end. Dreams are polite about things like that. There was a long slow-motion moment where I watched the cup drift away from me, dribbling its contents in free-fall. The white-blue sky seemed to calm me. The irrevocability of the choice brought peace, and I resign myself to my fate while I fell to join my son.
P.S. Someone told me this would be a great Starbucks commercial. I tend to think, yeah, it would. But, wow, what poor taste!
Filed under: IMO
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