But you can make an argument that fiction is more truthful than the artificial society we inhabit. Much of our world seems designed to deny basic human truths about human nature and human needs in order to further the accumulation of wealth and power by a few. Why do people cheer at the movies when the good guys win? Or read mystery novels where justice triumphs? Is it because, really, the truth is that the good guys should win and justice should triumph but in the “real” world they seldom do and as adults we’re supposed to deny the truth, go along with al the lies, pretend the bad guys who are winning are good or pretend that in reality good and justice don’t matter, when in fact, they do, because of human nature they can’t help but matter and all this talk about “well that’s the way things are” or “that’s the way business works” etc etc is just so much deceit. Yeah, I think a good case can be made that people read fiction to experience the truth.

Ever since I was a kid I’ve sometimes felt a need to justify to others why I’m the perpetual dreamer I am — or hide the dreamer in me. Including 25 years in jobs where I didn’t really fit. I’m still amazed and grateful that anyone ever paid me to do technical writing and editing, even more amazed that some understanding people promoted me to positions supervising and managing distribution of those manuals. All those years I felt that I had to hide a large part of who I was every day just to get the work done and do my best at it. I can’t complain those were misspent years, since I met so many terrific people, learned a lot, gained some self-confidence, and the promotions allowed me the rate of pay I needed to retire early — and of course it was my choice to take those jobs. But I feel as if I sold out the dreaming, creative part of me. I developed physical problems during the last few years of that work, some of which were, I think, signs that I was in the wrong line of work. Added to that, working for the military felt like a wrong livelihood, a wrong fit for me at least, from the start. (I do think we need a strong defense, but I don’t think it should be anything but an absolute last resort — true defense, not offense as it’s been used in Iraq.)

I felt a greater urgency to leave that work after 9/11, then my mom’s death, and finally the ramp up for war. I’d hoped to take early retirement for years, if the opportunity arose, and it did in 2003 because of downsizing. I don’t like to think of it as retirement so much as leaving one work phase for the next. I’m not old enough to retire, though I was sure beginning to feel that way.

Soon after leaving that phase of my life, I had a dream in which I was dressed all in beige. I squeezed into a building through a transom, as I’d had to do every day for some time in the dream. As I got through I felt great relief that it was the last time I’d have to do that, and my beige pants split open to reveal paisley tights underneath. I felt such relief that I no longer had to worry about letting them show.

But in real life, hiding the dreamy, peaceloving, contemplative, creative — and especially the spiritually-oriented — parts of me had become a habit and a form of self-defense. My armor. You don’t take off your armor until you’re sure the battle is over. My subconscious had to be convinced it was, and that’s taking some time.

The epiphany I wrote about in this post has stayed with me for days. Yesterday it bubbled up and demanded to be shared. Must be my paisley tights peeking through. I just turned 50 in October, and life’s short, so I plan to spend a lot more time in my preferred clothing from now on.