In a rare departure from insomnia, you slept last night, and you dreamt that you woke up. It was later than you would have liked. You went to a grassy hillside to wash your hair, shampoo and conditioner at the ready. You kneeled down, flipped your hair over your head, then carefully poured a pitcher of water over it. When it was all wet, you reached for the shampoo, but it was gone. Water dripping into your eyes, you peeked under your curtain of hair to look again, but there was no shampoo, and there was no conditioner.
You called your sister's name, shouting it with irritation. "What did you do with my shampoo?"
She clicked her tongue. "Nothing!" Then she flounced away to finish getting ready for school.
In the meantime, water was dripping down your back, and it was 8:15 now. You didn't have time to wash your hair anymore, but what could you do? Your hair was all wet.
"Mom!!! Where's my shampoo?" Your mom came, and with rightful indignation, she pronounced her innocence in the case of the missing shampoo.
You woke up then, recognizing your childhood inclination to think that Mom was the Great and Powerful Oz. She would know where the shampoo was, and if she didn't she should. But of course, she was off doing whatever your dreamland mom did, probably something similar to what your real mom did, and whatever that was, it had nothing to do with your shampoo and conditioner. Your own gingerbread boys do the same thing--assuming that you must know where the key or the action figure or the tape or the piece of fluff must be. You're MOM, after all, and moms control the world.
But you don't always know where the key or the action figure or the tape or the piece of fluff are. You do not control the world, even if you control much of their little world. You are not the Great and Powerful Oz. You're just the man behind the curtain.
You called your sister's name, shouting it with irritation. "What did you do with my shampoo?"
She clicked her tongue. "Nothing!" Then she flounced away to finish getting ready for school.
In the meantime, water was dripping down your back, and it was 8:15 now. You didn't have time to wash your hair anymore, but what could you do? Your hair was all wet.
"Mom!!! Where's my shampoo?" Your mom came, and with rightful indignation, she pronounced her innocence in the case of the missing shampoo.
You woke up then, recognizing your childhood inclination to think that Mom was the Great and Powerful Oz. She would know where the shampoo was, and if she didn't she should. But of course, she was off doing whatever your dreamland mom did, probably something similar to what your real mom did, and whatever that was, it had nothing to do with your shampoo and conditioner. Your own gingerbread boys do the same thing--assuming that you must know where the key or the action figure or the tape or the piece of fluff must be. You're MOM, after all, and moms control the world.
But you don't always know where the key or the action figure or the tape or the piece of fluff are. You do not control the world, even if you control much of their little world. You are not the Great and Powerful Oz. You're just the man behind the curtain.
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