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Dream Journal: "Uncle" Arnold Schwarzenegger

Preface

I slept from 11pm to 11am last night—a luxury I felt I deserved after spending literally all day on BYU's tennis courts. One of the benefits of sleeping past the morning and well into the day is it enhances my ability to remember dreams. (I love remembering my dreams; they're dependably bizarre.)

Dream

My family was chilling at an exclusive mountain resort for week-long getaway. (Think Snowbird, but Ritzier.) We were in one of the hotel's larger guest rooms awaiting a formal dinner in the resort's main banquet hall. My 95-year-old mom's mom, Besta, sat on the couch facing the bay window. And 10-12 of my extended family members on my dad's side shuffled about aimlessly. Arnold Schwarzenegger was also there, naturally. He was seated comfortably in the love seat closest to the window, which overlooked a snowy, alpine landscape. (High muscle mass = immunity to cold seeping through the window.) Strangely, Arnold was dressed from head to toe in jean. I crammed myself into the space on the love seat next to him and asked the obvious question, "what's with the 90s fashion revival?" (Note: I wasn't positive what precise relationship we all had with the former governor, but all signs pointed towards close family friend, so I rolled with it.)

"Airport security recommend it. It's comfortable to travel in, and the pat-down folks are less likely to stop people wearing jeans for random security checks," He replied amicably.

Uncle Arnie went on to tell us more about the many times he had been stopped by airport security. It was ridiculous how often it happened, despite his celebrity status. A surprising number of well-educated officers were suspicious that their full-body, airport scanners were unable to detect futuristic, sub-dermal, titanium (like the stuff featured in films like Total Recall and Terminator). "True story," he ended with.

As he spoke, my gaze gradually fixated on Arnie's enormous thighs.  After a while, I noticed my own legs starting to loose circulation. Despite my own physical discomfort, everyone else was relaxed and emotionally at ease; a perfect opportunity to suggest a group photo to capture this family memory.

Pulling out my phone, I ask Arnold, "would it be cool if we took a giant selfie before heading down to dinner?"

What he said next took me completely by surprise—

"Actually, I try not to take photos with Mormons."

He looked down and rubbed at his cuticles. Uncomfortable silence ensued. My family all glared at me in disbelief. How could I have asked him that?! Besta (who, ironically, is not a member of the LDS church) tactfully broke the silence, as she always does.

"It's okay. No problem. We understand."

But I did not understand.


Analysis

The dream went on, but I still can't figure out what that part meant. Was the former Governor concerned that his CA constituents would take issue with him socializing with a group that represented a conservative view of marriage? What is going on in my subconscious regarding social equality and freedom of religion?

Family. Friends. Your thoughts?
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