The wrong man

I went through a series of very vivid dreams last night. So vivid in fact that I woke up convinced I was being persecuted by the Media and public opinion. It seems in my dream I had made an inappropriate comment to someone and the next thing I knew I was running from the police and every major media outlet. They had my picture plastered all over TV as someone possibly worse than Hitler and Godzilla wrapped into one evil super-being. I don’t even know what it was that I allegedly said in the dream to stir up such controversy, but it was intense.

I remember calling what I believed to be a responsible network journalist, trying to explain or clear my name. That reporter, maybe Brokaw, was unavailable so I was speaking with one of his aids and she called me a jerk. I was like, “What happened to unbiased reporting?” I had no choice and had to continue to be on the run.

I was hiding in various safe houses owned by what seemed to be cartoonish hillbilly stereotypes; like refrigerators in the front yard and such. I don’t know why they were sympathetic to my cause. At least one of them had a rotary phone I could use. Plus it was hot, like Savannah, Georgia hot.  

I was running through woods and over fences trying to get away. It was an urban/rural setting where there were homes close together but had big wooded yards. There was someone with me as I was trying to get away but they are forgotten to me now. I was less panicked in this dream however. All in all, I think my dreams were about my innocence and my attempts to prove it to a world that had already judged and sentenced me.

Perhaps they sentenced me to a life of mediocrity and cubicles without hope of proving my worth to the world. I’m sure it’s just a self-indulgent fantasy; an inflated view of my own importance, pure narcissism.

But then again, I remember being quite modest in the dream, as if I was just the wrong man trying to make it in a world gone wacky. Maybe it’s that often, I do feel like the wrong man, or maybe, a man out of time, out of place if you will. I just don’t get it a lot of the time and can’t figure out why so many things have to be so complicated.

I’m likely just over thinking on this matter. It probably meant nothing; as Freud often said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. But sometimes, I think it would be pretty cool to be the Right man.