Peanut Butter Dreams

The last time I went out socially with my high school sweetheart was a strange occasion. We went to HORDE Festival, an all day show with bands like Blues Traveler and Black Crowes. The show was fun: God Street Wine, G. Love and Special Sauce, and Joan Osborne stood out as excellent performers that day, and we both enjoyed watching everyone dance in a lovely mudpit.

Jennifer had already met the man who was to become her husband, and she was clearly emotionally well beyond the story of me and her. This is quite appropriate in hindsight, but was quite painful that night, leaving me more lonely than I really should have been on a lovely summer's night the year I was 18. After a mildly awkward good-bye, Jennifer dropped me off at my friend Megan's house where I was to spend the night before returning to camp the next day. I walked inside ready to be done with the day, and headed right to bed.

Megan is now a professor at MIT, but that summer she was one of the few women who didn't find me dangerous. She also had a giant bed, big enough for her, me, and another friend to sleep in. This bed, in addition to being quite long and wide, was piled high with enough soft blankets and comforters to warm human extremities on even the coldest of nights. Being summer, this was not a cold night, but Megan kept the air conditioning in her room on the highest setting, so as to enjoy the sense of being swaddled in bedclothes in all seasons.

I laid there, physically very comfortable in the magical bed, but emotionally quite lost in the cool, quiet dark. Suddenly the door opened and Megan lept into bed, a spoon in her hand.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Peanut butter. It'll make you have weird dreams," she replied.

Being an adventurous young man, and not one to ever turn down a spoonful offered by a lady, I ate the peanut butter, settled into the bed-nest, and drifted into sleep.

As a child, I'd had a recurring nightmare. In this nightmare I am chased down an alley lined with tall brick buildings. In the dream I'm running as fast as I can, but moving as if I was stuck in syrup. Usually I was chased by a giant cockroach, and once by the Count from Sesame Street. Luckily, the Count is the only one who ever caught me, and all he did when he caught me was sit on my chest and tell me, "ONE, ONE Han Solo in Star Wars. Ha! Ha! Ha!" This dream was totally a childhood thing, and I'd not had that dream for many years.

The night I had the peanut butter I had almost that exact same dream. There was me trying to run away, but being unable. There was the endless alleyway with no exits. There was someone chasing me. However, this time instead of being a cockroach or the Count, the pursuer was my mother. My mother dressed as a nun, running after me with a ruler.

I'm since never doubted the power or mystery of peanut butter.