Door Opener

You know in a dream when all of the sudden--FLASH--you're somewhere, and you don't know how you got there or why the location changed or what the relevance of the new place is? Well, this was that.

I was standing in an endless hallway, and it was such a tease. There were about a thousand doors. Each door had mirrors all around it so that the thousand doors looked like a million doors. I had no idea how I was going to peek in all of the doors. I couldn't finish it in a lifetime.

But, nevertheless, I started opening all the doors; except I wasn't doing this. I was watching myself do this. I knew that it was me, but it was more the optimal me--longer, thicker hair; longer, thinner legs; and I could walk gracefully like a ballerina. I've always wanted to be a ballerina, but I trip over the air, so that is impossible.

I kept opening doors, but I was doing it so quickly, that what was inside some spaces, I barely noticed. I just kept looking ahead at all the doors I needed to open, fearing I'd never make it; or I kept looking behind at all the doors I'd already opened, regretting that I didn't pay closer attention to what was inside.

Then I just stopped. I put my hand over my eyes. I spun around and around and around, and was silly-dizzy in the head. I stuck my finger out and pointed and opened my eyes. I went into that door.

When I peeked inside, it was me! I was running around a communications room with story boards in hand and talking on an iPhone. I checked out the covers of an award-winning magazine hanging on the wall. I watched in awe of what I was accomplishing and how successful I was.

I tore myself away and looked in another door. There I was again, quietly painting a gorgeous room in a charming Victorian house, grasping my enormously pregnant stomach with a huge smile on my face. Photos of a happy, home-style life lined the walls.

In the next door, I was in another country. I don't know where, but it was different. I was in a sleek suit, walking into a building made of glass and steel. Something important obviously took place in those walls, and then I realized it was a type of agency with an impressive list of clients.

The next door revealed me and my pretty little sister, sitting in an artist's loft, going over some of her incredible photos and redesigning our web page. There were mannequins and coffee mugs and poster frames and all sorts of knick-knacks scattered all about our creative space.

Feeling all Plath-like, I sat down.

I stared down the hall at all the doors I hadn't even opened yet.

And I just wondered how on earth I would ever choose to go inside of one and stay.