Does it really matter?

Dreamed I met a well-known horror writer and I introduce myself. He says, "You're not a writer," in the most brutal, insulting way. At the same time, I watch him be a real weirdo. He has a following who seems to ignore how weird he is, and after awhile, I realized he's pretty far on the spectrum. Still, I keep telling people how weird he is. He is motoring down a hallway and I prepare myself to trip him, but instead he falls flat on his face before he reaches me. 

I'm not being nice and I realize it, but I'm also very insulted.

I'm sitting with a few of these "strangers" as more and more like-minded people gather and they're all really out there, strange and weird and really into being so. There are tables full of fantastical paraphernalia. I'm feeling more and more out of place. I'm not connecting and I'm not enjoying myself. Finally, I say to some cute goth girl, "Is everyone waiting for a movie?"

She gives me a strange look and then says "it's Horrorapolloza," or something like that, "we meet every Thursday to get weird."

"Not my thing," I say, though I think in a non-judgemental way, and get up to walk out. 

Then a song and bunch of special effects follow me out, like in a movie, and I know it's the goth girl putting me down, but I'm not insulted, I'm intrigued. I turn around and say, "I dig it."

Anyway, I think this is how it would go at a horror convention. I'd be a fish out of water. 

Then I dream I'm a congressman, and my Dad is there, and I say to him, "Do these congressmen think I'm strange?" and he says, "They think you're a little choppy, but they're intrigued. I try to interpret for you."

These are relatively benign "ostracism" dreams, the most common type of dreams I have. It all goes back to my ten years of exile when I was depressed, but it also isn't far from my current reality and fears. 

I like to think of myself as "Weird but cool." Whether anyone actually thinks that, I don't know. Probably more the former than the latter, eh?

I wake up, and I'm relieved. I've got an unexpectedly helluva nice life. We're comfortable, I'm married to a wonderful woman, my kids are great, I have some good friends and family, and I love owning my business. I like the writing I did and I'm not dissatisfied with how it turned out. It's always reassuring to wake up from my ostracism dreams and realize I made it through. 

I usually don't post these kind of blogs. The wiser thing to do is to be circumspect in what I reveal about myself. 

The more boring thing to do is to be circumspect. 

Does it really matter?