I sometimes make decisions in my half-sleep, determining what I will or won't do. It's that in between space of consciousness where what is really bothering or exciting me bubbles to the top. Often it takes a slowed-down brain, a near loss of time-spatial reasoning, to realize what it is that presently matters.
Last night I thought I'd do a loop of Anchorage on my bike the next day - Campbell Creek trail to Coastal Trail to Chester Creek trail and back home again - longer than I've ridden before. Also, I was thinking about working in New York for some reason, perhaps because I was supposed to a few years ago before my life took a different path.
I fell into full-sleep and dreamed that Tina Fey called me and our conversation went like this:
Tina Fey: ....
Me: "Hello? Hello? Is this Tina Fey?"
TF: "Yah, hey."
Me: "Tina Fey!"
TF: "Hey, so I'm calling because the NBC producers specifically requested you and I have to be the one to say that for some reason I don't know why it has to be me. I have shit to do."
Me: "Wha- I don't understand?"
TF (impatient): "Will. You. Work. For. Me."
Me (stammering): "Uh, I mean, yes, but doing what? Me? Okay...wait, I have to talk to my husband. Can I call you back?"
TF: "Yeah, yeah but hurry up."
Me: "Okay!"
TF: "Great then bye."
Me: "Bye Tina Fey! I love you. I mean, love you like a friend! I mean, I love your work!"
So, continuing in this dream I talk to my husband who is surprisingly open to moving to NY so I can work for Tina Fey (doing what I'm not certain). We say that we'll do it for three years and then come back to Alaska. He's excited to check out the finance world in NYC and it all totally makes sense. Next I call Kari and tell her guess what we're moving up the block in Brooklyn and she's super stoked. I am very happy about all of this. The end.
I woke up this morning and realized that, indeed, Tina Fey has not called me to come work for her. However, my half-dream desire of doing a big loop through Anchorage was still quite within my reach.
This afternoon it was 30 miles on the bike and it was sunny, zipping past creeks, forests, then the ocean, other people cycling, walking, running, ducks... My music blasting in my ears. The thing about riding for a long time listening to music, spinning up hills, speeding down hills, hollering out "on your left!" before passing people up ahead, remembering to keep my pedals parallel to the ground around corners so as not to catch on the ground, adjusting on the saddle, pushing my ear buds in just a little better, clicking through time, distance, speed on my bike computer, taking in the trees, flowers, water, sky, planes taking off and landing, skipping that one song I'm tired of hearing, shoving my phone/ipod back in my chest pocket, remembering to enjoy because this is beautiful - epic even, smelling the bitter-sweet almost-rotten Alaska flora - all of this just takes over everything else that I could worry about, feel scared over, try to control; mutes any thoughts of being anywhere else. This is completely living in the moment - a very nice, but rare, place that I sometimes like to visit.
At home again I showered, put on jeans and a tank top and makeup, drank a beer, read a new magazine on the back porch (with an article about people in NY paying $32 for one 45 minute spinning class) with a cat sitting on my tired legs, very content and also, conscious that all these little things were probably some of the best parts of being alive so soak it up.
It felt good to ride in the sun for so long today. For free. It felt good to hug my husband when he got home from work, my fatigued body flexing, stretching upwards to match his height. It felt good to cut up potatoes and to select and defrost salmon that we caught to grill for dinner. It felt good to be warm and barefoot on the back porch while he grilled, sun blazing behind him so that I couldn't see him for the bright backlight, but could imagine anyway what it was his face looked like while I heard his voice, like a half-dream chock-full of what I most care about.
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