Swimming along

Another graduate paper submitted. And I’m exhausted. Every week is another battle lately.

To start our class last weekend, and to commemorate the halfway point of our graduate program, one of our professors asked us to share something from a movie that ties to the feelings we’re having about the program. One of the girls in our class recalled the “Finding Nemo” line, Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, which was a running theme of ensuing answers to the question.

Interestingly, I had a dream the other night where I returned to K-Town and visited some of my friends at the newspaper. After entering the newsroom, I immediately found my good friend Laura and just fell into her arms, sobbing. The result of being utterly overwhelmed and missing those older days when life didn’t seem so challenging and cruel.

My work is demanding. But I recognize it was my choice – Kates’ and my choice – to make a major change almost three years ago now. We saw the huge benefits of this opportunity, and, for the most part, we’re reaping them. … My only regret is the guilt I can’t shake of moving away from our family – or to put it more bluntly, taking my family away from our parents, the girls’ grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Literally, not a day goes by that I don’t feel at fault for some of the recent hardships of my extended family. That I feel at fault for decisions made or words spoken with the best intentions only to have them misinterpreted or taken out of context. That I wish I could be closer to family to offer comfort and assistance. That I wish we could be a part of the family gatherings and celebrations.

Amid the chaos and frustration, I hope all of them know they weigh on my mind every day and that they can be proud of the good work I’m doing …

I recently received an invitation to join an academic honor society that is exclusive to the top 10 percent of college juniors, seniors and graduate students. … It came as such a surprise that at first I wondered if it was legit. I’ve never been invited – nor had I ever imagined being invited – to join an academic honor society in my life. Turns out it was definitely legit, and I’ll be inducted as an official member in November.

Amid the shock and aftermath of our student’s death two weeks ago, I wrote the president’s weekly message to the university, as I’ve done every week in my nearly three years on the job. I finished the first draft late last Wednesday evening and sent it to him. He told me later that it made his eyes well. And in the 24 hours that followed, we traded and debated a number of revisions, and scrutinized nearly every word, before the message was published Friday morning. The process was agonizing for me, but there’s few pieces I’ve written since joining the university of which I’ve been more proud. To hear the president publicly acknowledge my work in our debriefing session last Friday was powerful.

Then there was the glowing email he sent to the university’s board this week, in which he thanked those of us on the team that worked through last week’s crisis, acknowledging our “dedication, professionalism, coolness, compassion and genuine strong leadership,” and complimenting us as consummate professionals.

On Tuesday, the president was scheduled to give testimony to the state committee on higher education at another state college. I got the task of accompanying the president and one of our state representatives to the meeting – and I was designated to drive the car. It was another one of those surreal moments that I never could have imagined when I was attending the university as a student 15 years ago: Driving the president and our state representative halfway across the state for a luncheon and testimony to a state legislative committee.

The trip kept me out of the office for the work day, but the day was hardly finished at the strike of five. That evening, the great Herman Boone, the legendary football coach made famous by “Remember the Titans” – one of my all-time favorite films – was scheduled to give a lecture on the campus. Whenever we have a guest lecturer visit the campus, it’s part of my duty to greet him or her prior to the lecture and mediate our pre-lecture news conference. But what made this lecture experience especially neat was that I had met Coach Boone before. He also visited our campus about 10 years ago – with his assistant coach, Bill Yoast – and I was a student journalist covering that lecture. It was a privilege and an honor Tuesday night to walk into the staging room, shake his hand again and recall that time a decade ago. I then stayed with him for another hour as he met with the media and special guests, recounting his coaching days and experiences with civil rights.

And yet, for all of the compliments and pinch-me experiences, there was none more heart-warming than the one that occurred last Wednesday night. I was washing dishes at the kitchen sink when Kates and the girls returned home from their Wednesday evening church activities, and Phoebe came bounding through the door to greet me. After a few moments, Kates prodded Phoebe to tell me something she said during the car ride home. Phoebe looked at me and said, “Daddy, I want to marry you when I get older!”

There’s a line in Peter Cetera’s sweet song, “Daddy’s Girl” – one of those meaningful songs on Phoebe’s playlist – that goes “Then she puts her head upon your shoulder / Says she’ll marry you when she gets older.” … Truly, it’s a moment I’ve anticipated, and now it’s happened. My heart melted. And I think my eyes welled. It was reassurance that I’m doing OK at this fatherhood thing.

So I’ll keep swimming some more.

Mad dreams

So I was having some crazy dreams last night.

And I think I’m suffering from “Mad Men” withdrawal.

Since we finished Season 5 the other night, the series kept crossing my mind throughout the weekend.

I don’t remember much about the dreams I had last night. I just know they weren’t happy dreams. I remember standing around a table in the offices of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce. I think Joan, Don and Peggy were there. And we were fighting about something.

The next thing I remember – and I’m not sure if it was connected to the “Mad Men” dream or if it was connected to another unrelated dream – is me sitting up in bed like a gunshot. I shouted a quick, loud “Hey!” My arms and hands took some kind of ninja pose.

Just as Kates was walking back into our bedroom from feeding Faye.

I startled her so badly I nearly gave her a heart attack. To her, I was reacting as though I thought she was an intruder, but I’m clueless about what caused me to sit up and react the way I did. Kates put her hand to her chest and said, calmly, “It’s just me. There’s no one else.”

I don’t remember lying back down. I don’t remember Kates crawling back into bed.

I have no idea what happened.

Dreaming

So I had a weird dream last night ...

I was in a journalism class being taught by Mr. Brown. It was in my college journalism hall, there were about 30 people in it and the only person I recognized was my supervisor and mentor sitting next to me. And up at the chalkboard was Mr. Brown teaching the foundations of newspaper reporting, old-school. His legendary aura in the room was clear.

Soon the bell sounded, signalling the class was over and the crowd began filtering from the room. As we entered the hallway, the environment was suddenly that of a high school hallway. Crowded with students moving between classes. Suddenly the president of my university appeared around a corner and approached Mr. Brown, who was now standing in the doorway and watching the flow of students in front of him. As I looked back, I saw Dr. J greet Mr. Brown with a pat on the back, as if to say "You did well" in life.

Just then I heard my full name, but nothing else, called over the school's intercom. I knew it meant I should report to the office for something, but I shrugged it off because the message didn't provide any details. Unfortunately, sometimes, that's my nature. I tend not to react to things unless I have some certain details to go on.

I arrived in a barely full classroom. It was a math class. I entered from the front of the room and passed the teacher, who was standing in front of her desk, on my way to a seat near the back of the classroom. She returned a test to me. In the dream it was implied that I took the test recently, and I had a sense before she handed it to me that I hadn't done well. ... Weirder yet, the teacher handed the results of the test back to me written on one of Phoebe's stackable toy bowls. And I couldn't read the teacher's Sharpie scribbles on the bowl.

Once I was seated, the teacher called out my name as if she wanted me to come to the front of the mostly empty class. I didn't respond and kept trying to make out the writing on the bowl. Now, another woman was standing at the front of the room, and it was implied she was someone I was supposed to leave with.

Again, the teacher called my name. Again I didn't respond. Eventually, the teacher passed my desk and said something like put your gloves on, it's time to go ... As I looked down to a pair of suede gloves lying atop my backpack on the floor ...

Kates called my name, "Mark"

"What!" I snarled as my eyes jerked awake and I sat up to see Kates.

Wish I knew where that dream was heading.

Inception?

So all of my dreams for awhile are going to be compared to Inception's architecture.

Last night I had one that came pretty close to the real thing - or whatever that reality is.

I arrived at some kind of train station. Could have been European. From the platform, the floor and walls were a bluish gray. And there was a set of futuristic elevator capsules. I stepped into one and started pushing buttons with barely a clue of where I was heading.

Suddenly I was in this food court area that felt part '80s mall with neon light strips and chrome, and part casino lobby with mauve, patterned carpet and indoor waterfalls. There were also hints of the town square set in "Back to the Future," too, with classic cars parked throughout. I was looking for something to eat, but I realized my wallet wasn't in my back pocket.

There was an interlude filled with projections of buddies from my junior high and high school years. Corey and I talked of our field hockey days in junior high. Another acquaintance, Ryan, who plays in a popular rock band in reality, was milling around, telling us to "be safe out there." I passed through a door into a hallway that was painted completely in a grayish, off-white.

Suddenly I was in a lavish California-style palace that was the university president's home. Though there wasn't an item inside that resembled the real thing. The president and the first lady were giving me a tour of the home, leading me down the winding metal staircase and pointing to relics along the way, like an antique television set they said came from a residence hall.

As we got to the bottom of the staircase, the atrium looked more like the lobby of the Museum of Science & Industry. And there was a large group of people moving through it, about to embark on a tour. Somebody said, "You'd better get going!" And I began jogging through the atrium to catch up with the group as they rounded the corner.

As I caught up to them, we entered another atrium that looked part Galleria, part Union Station. Neil Diamond's "Song Sung Blue" began playing, and people had started skipping and dancing. The atmosphere was festive - sort of like this. I looked to my right and a former boss was skipping along side me. I reached out to him and we slapped hands as we skipped near the back of the crowd.

Suddenly I was back at the elevators. I stepped into one and started going up.

The dream ended.

And of course, I can't remember how I got there in the first place.

Every little thing she does

‘Of course I’m bias, but I’m not gonna deny Phoebe is one heck of a cute baby …

So it was more than a little frightening when I had a dream last night that she had grown into an ugly baby literally over night. In the dream, Kates and I put her to bed one night and when we raised her from her crib the next morning she had grown dark black hair, she was wearing thick, dark-rimmed glasses and she had a full mouth of huge, squirrel-like teeth. Oh, the horror … If only I could paint a picture of the image that’s stuck in my mind. It was like a two-foot long Ugly Betty dressed in baby clothes, but without the braces.

Thank God it was just a dream. And she remains cute.

At one point while I was working this afternoon, a vision of that huge, toothless, clown-faced grin of hers popped into my head. I let out a little giggle and shook my head. And then felt thankful I'm able to have such warm feelings ...

The best part of every one of my weekdays for the last several weeks has been coming home in the evenings and seeing her sitting on Kates’s lap, or lying on the floor with Kates playing beside her …

Every little thing she does is magic to us … The way she kicks and bounces with reckless regard when we lay her on her back -- our friends at Tom’s wedding last weekend delighted in seeing that whole act … The way she stops eating every time I talk and looks in my direction with that smile to make sure she’s not missing anything … The way she focuses so hard and furls her eyebrows and lips when she’s trying to grip the object in front of her …

... The way she lunges at our hands, or any other object nearby, just so she can suck on them … The way she sighs, the way she yawns, the way she sneezes and then laughs about it, the way she talks while she’s feeding on a bottle … And the way she bursts into her own babbling conversations with her surroundings …

With Kates back at school now, and leaving around 7 every morning, Phoebe and I are developing a good morning routine, too … Kates leaves after I’ve finished showering, and I set Phoebe up in the living room, either on her belly on the floor or in her saucer. She plays, I eat my breakfast and we watch Sportscenter together. She loves it. … By about 7:20 or 7:30 a.m., she’s ready for her bottle. And depending on how quickly she downs that, we’re in her room by 8 a.m. … I get her dressed in the outfit Kates has laid out for her the night before. We take care of the vitamins, the allergy medicine and all of that fun stuff. And all of this is happening while we listen to her Rock ‘n’ Roll playlist. If she’s in a good mood, we dance and bounce around her room. She loooooves “We Are the Sleepyheads.” … And by 8:15, if all has gone well, we’re on our way to the daycare, and she’s falling asleep in the back seat of my car.

My friend Tom warned me about this a few months ago with his newborn son, the way that -- after about three months -- he was quickly becoming a little man. Now, at 4 ½ months, Phoebe is becoming a little woman more and more every day …

Dreaming

So I was having some crazy, random dreams last night …

… In one, I was trying to pour some cereal for breakfast, but I kept pulling bowls from the cupboard that were too big. They were like the size of mixing bowls, and every time I would finish pouring my cereal, I would step back and say something like ‘What the heck!?’ I couldn’t figure it out. It was excruciatingly frustrating … Eventually Kates came into the kitchen -- we were in a completely different house -- to see what all the fuss about, and I couldn’t explain it to her …

… In another dream, we were at a gathering with my extended family, this time in a dining area that I didn’t recognize. My mother, myself and my grandmother were sitting at a large dining room table as others sat to the side. The table was covered with family photos; I picked up and started thumbing photos of me as a toddler. Then my mother picked up a large, recent family photo -- which in reality has never been taken. It was a picture of the Horns family gathered at a park for an outdoor picnic. My mother was suggesting my grandmother get an 8x10 print of the family photo, but my grandmother was adamant she wanted it in a poster size. "Ok," we told her, but it's probably going to be grainy and not reproduce as well" … That didn’t matter to Grandma.

And yet in another dream, I was driving a big pickup truck in the Wisconsin River. Several of my childhood friends were there -- now grown-up, of course -- and giving me a hard time for the driving … But with all the sandbars on the river, I was barely deep in the water. "What do you mean? I told the others, the Wisconsin River is made to drive through!" …