a sleep-induced conversation with a Mormon, or dreaming about blogging

I had a dream the other night. I was sitting at work in a cafeteria-type room, trying to work on a project. A co-worker came up and sat across from me, obviously wanting to talk to me, like she knew who I was, she had heard of me. To me, she was vaguely familiar, only enough to recognize her as a colleague, but I didn’t know her name. She was blonde and very happy, friendly. The thought occurred to me that she must be Mormon, and from Utah. I was sure of it. Wasn't there a newly hired employee from Utah? I wanted her to leave me alone so I could work, but I wasn’t going to be rude and say so. I certainly wasn't going to bring up anything that would highlight our common backgrounds.

She opened up a conversation, out of the blue, saying, “So, you’re a Christian, white woman—“ as if that was a prelude to a question, but I cut her off.

“I’m not a Christian,” I interrupted. She was surprised. “I consider myself an ex-Christian,” I continued. I knew this would be a strange idea to her, but I didn’t care to elaborate further.

“Really?” Then she asked her question anyway, something about the robes priests wear.

“Robes?” I asked.

“Yeah, you know, like Catholic priests…” she expanded.

“Oh, yeah,” I answered, and, deciding to rile her up a bit and test if my Mormon theory was right, continued, “kind of like the temple apron and all that.” I wanted to list more of the temple clothes, but couldn’t think of their names in my dream.

She stared at me, shocked.

“I’m from Utah,” I explained. “I’m not just an ex-Christian, I'm ex-Mormon too.”

She stared at me, speechless, for a good thirty seconds.

I smiled back at her, as if I had just told her I got an A on an exam, and hoped she’d stop staring at me.

“Don’t you know Mormon?” (That’s what she said in my dream, but I suppose she meant, “Aren’t you familiar with Moroni’s challenge from Moroni 10:4-5?”)

“Mormon, the compiler of the Book of Mormon? Of course I know of him. I’ve read the Book of Mormon over a dozen times.”

She was flabbergasted. I’m not sure if the shock was from the fact that I’d read the book that many times, or from the fact that I read it that many times but still left. She thought that if it wasn’t because of a lack of understanding the Book or Mormon that caused my unbelief, it must be something else.

“Well, it must be that you haven’t been to the temple,” she tried.

“No, I’ve been to the temple. I was married in the temple, and went many times since then,” I countered.

Then she asked me something about abuse—-I must have been abused, or I abused my kid. That must have been the reason for my leaving, right?

“I’ve never hit, and I’ve never been hit,” I answered. I decided it would be best to end this inane line of questioning and just explain to her why I left.

“Listen, let me explain why. I won’t say anything to shake you up. Too much. First, I don’t believe. I don’t believe Joseph Smith’s claims, the Book of Mormon, etc.”

“Okay.”

“And second, I don’t think it’s good for me and my family.”

“You and your family,” she repeated.

“Yes, for us. I think everyone can weigh the good and the bad for themselves, and if the good outweighs the bad, then…” I said, shrugging my shoulders to imply the conclusion.

“Yeah,” she said, “that’s how it is for me,” like she recognized there were some bad points with the church, but not enough to make her leave.

Somehow the conversation ended there, she was interrupted by friends or something and left the table. I thought it would be a good idea to jot down some notes from the conversation. As I scribbled on a notepad, she walked back over and noticed me writing our conversation.

“What are you doing? Are you writing down what I said?” she asked, a little freaked out.

I explained to her that I keep a journal, and like to write this kind of stuff down in it. I knew in my dream that this was a slight fib—-really, my “journal” would be my blog, online and public.

Just then, lots of people were suddenly coming into the room, including my sister and brother. I introduced my sister to the woman I’d been having the conversation with, thinking she’d be glad to meet someone else from Utah.

“This is my sister, Janet, and this is…?” I realized this whole time I didn’t know the woman’s name.

“Christine,” she said.

“Christine,” I continued the introduction. “Janet is from Utah.”

Christine looked like that bit of information didn’t phase her. So I turned to talk to my sister, who, oddly enough, in my dream, had just gotten out of two months in jail.

I woke up just after the dream finished, and I realized I hadn’t actually written it down. That part had just been in my dream. So I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down notes. I rarely write down dreams, and rarely remember them with any clarity. But I thought it so strange that I had written it down in my dream, and that as I did so, I had thought, “This will be good for my blog.”

I’m dream-blogging. Or blog-dreaming. I’m dreaming about blogging. And I'll admit this wasn't the first time, either.

As I wrote in my dream, I thought to myself how experiences of ex-Mormons and questioning Mormons should be documented and talked about, not shushed up and ignored.

So what does the dream mean? I’m sure my mind is dealing with my anxieties about visiting faithful Mormon friends and family over the holidays, and playing out a possible scenario. One in which I was bold enough to speak up, and the Mormon was civil and accepting, even if she didn’t agree. That would be nice. We'll see how it actually goes.