Being A-Mazed

Judd Nelson (as you saw him in The Breakfast Club) wanted me to meet him at Applebee's on Lorain Road. I was much younger, unmarried, and willing.

So began my very vivid dream the other night.


I thought meeting Judd would be a piece of cake. I know where Lorain Road is, surely I could find the Applebee's.

Nope.

First of all, for some reason, I was on foot. Then I found myself wandering through car dealerships, a street carnival (complete with merry-go-round) and a whole host of stores. I asked for directions but got no help. In the end, I awoke, frustrated that Judd and I would never get together, wondering if he was sitting in an Applebee's somewhere in his dreams, waiting for me.

The thing is, I get lost a lot in my nocturnal rambles through dreamland. I don't know if it's because I have such a lousy sense of direction, or if incidents from my childhood are coming back to haunt me. Although I wasn't in the habit of getting lost, there was that one time...

My parents and younger brother and I went to the art museum so my folks could culture us up. I was at the surly teen stage (much to my everlasting shame and embarrassment). I did not want to be seen with my family. I was so cool (not ever). Anyhow, I wandered away to admire the treasures all around me, and I was pulled into the labyrinth of paintings and sculpture and such. Then I realized I was well and truly lost. In a panic, I began searching for my folks, zipping from room to room, each time ending up in the same place I'd started. Eventually, one of the guards stopped me and helped me to find my clan. My father was furious. My mom was relieved. I don't recall my brother's reaction, but he was probably disappointed that I'd come back.

Karma is a you-know-what. We were shopping with my young son, when he decided to hide under a rack of clothes and "surprise" us. He was definitely surprised when he got a crack on the rear end for scaring the crap out of us -- along with the lecture every parent gives their child about strangers and such.

The more famous disappearing act our son pulled was during an autumn trip to a farm with his preschool class. There was a hay maze, and Mr. Ginley was waiting patiently at the end of it for the lad to come out. Then he was waiting not-so-patiently, and asked another child if he'd seen our kid. The boy replied that there was a child in the maze who was sitting and crying because he was lost. So Mr. went in and got him. (Can a sense -- or lack of sense -- of direction be hereditary?)

We all get lost sometimes. Finding our way out of the hay maze can be very trying.

 I just hope that whenever I'm lost, there's someone who wants to find me.

It doesn't have to be Judd Nelson.