My dentist rubbed some red goop on my gums and told me to lie back.
“Do you see the pink sharks?” she asked.
They swam before my eyes from right to left, about the size of a Flintstones vitamin. In fact, I’m pretty sure Flintstones vitamins were the inspiration for my reference point.
The room started to spin, and I grabbed the table I was lying on so I didn’t fall off. By the way, why was I on a table and not in a chair? I have no idea.
When I woke up from my dream, I still felt the effects of the red goop – or so it seemed.
A few minutes later, I sent a text to my walking accountability partner, explaining my dream. “That means I can’t walk today. I’m under the influence of red goop.”
“You didn’t even go to the dentist!”
“I did in my dream.”
I ended up putting in more steps than my daily goal, but it was a fun start to the day. Most people know me as a serious person, but once I get to know you well, you’ll see my goofy side. And being able to share such silliness makes me feel connected to people.
In recent years, city life has overwhelmed my senses. Too much traffic. Too much noise. Too much crime. Too much ... everything.
I don’t know why I feel this way after fifty-plus years of city life, other than I’ve always found a way to withdraw from the noise in the past. I’m finding that more difficult now as a caregiver. So anytime I can chuckle with a friend – even about pink sharks – it helps.
Silliness isn’t the antidote to noise for me – not necessarily anyway. But feeling close enough to someone who accepts my silliness makes the noise less noticeable. And I’m thankful for that.