Dear Diary Series: You Are Nobody

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Dear Diary,

I had a weird dream last night. It involved a work trip, a big client meeting, a possible sexual assault case, and trying to find justice in an unjust world. There was a large, older man who kept groping me and sending me explicit content over social media, and there was nothing I could do, or nothing anybody did, to stop him. What’s even more concerning is that, in this dream, I wasn’t all that bothered by his advances even though he was quite old and saggy and probably had very dank breath.

Nobody cares about anyone else’s dreams. In fact, when you say to someone, “I had a really weird dream last night,” you can almost feel the other person checking out, as if to give a non-verbal sigh. “I’ll humor her for a bit,” you think, “but I’ll tune out somewhere in between the third and fourth sentence.”

If I were a psychologist, or a physicist, or a fortune teller or even a low-budget Long Island medium knock-off, I might have enough functioning brain cells to know what my dream meant, or to interpret it in a semi-spectacular way. Because I am bright, but not that smart, I just woke up and thought, “How bizarre,” before brushing my teeth and getting on with it.