Dreaming of Bacon

A few nights ago, I dreamt of bacon.

It sizzled in a pan, along with some slices of ham, the fat bubbling up between the former slabs of hog flesh. Then, an egg slithered into the pan; its whites spread to the edges as if running a race, while the yolk — yellow, round and perfect — remained Buddha-like in its stillness.

I don’t recall if I ate the bacon, eggs and ham. I probably woke up before I was able to

partake of this fat-laden but delicious feast. Just one of many bizarre dreams I encounter before I open my eyes to the pebbly gray of dawn and which quickly fade into the mist of deep subconscious.

I wonder why I had a dream about bacon. I love bacon (who doesn’t), but I haven’t eaten in a quite some time. Was it a subconscious stirring of hunger pangs?

I can’t say I’m hungry. I eat quite well. Yet my financial situation has forced me to curtail certain food purchases. No longer will I spend $5 for three ice cream pops. I scour for the cheapest cuts of meat and cereal boxes. I simply cannot afford those luxuries anymore.

Notwithstanding recent holiday indulgences, I know my hunger has subsided. Perhaps my nervousness over my incredibly shrinking bank account has slashed my appetite. In the past when I’ve been anxious about some major change in my life my hunger typically disappears only to reappear in calmer times.

Now, I feel anxious all the time about my financial status. How much in taxes will I pay next year on my paltry freelance revenues? Will my savings dissipate before I can find a full-time job? Will I end up homeless? And please don't get me started on my health insurance. These thoughts keep me awake at night (when I’m not dreaming of bacon that is.)

I’ve lost some weight (that’s a good thing), but not that much. I’m still frustratingly chunky despite my diminished food intake.

Sometimes, though, as in dreams, my hunger pangs rear up and take me by surprise. Like when I’m out for dinner with friends and relatives and I clean my plate. Oh, look at her, they must think, she can really chow down. No wonder she’s so fat. People can be so cruel when they don’t know your true circumstances.

Little do they know of my modest daily meals: cereal for breakfast, salad or occasional small sandwich for lunch, small piece of meat (overcooked) and serving of vegetables for dinner. Oh, once a week, I have pasta and sauce. I’ve cut out desserts (again, a good thing). They don't know of the meals I've skipped altogether.

Perhaps my bacon dream had nothing to do with actual hunger. Perhaps it’s my subconscious wish for a time when I’m no longer living this ascetic lifestyle forced upon me by two lengthy bouts of unemployment and unstable freelance work.

Perhaps it’s my longing for the day when I can buy whatever I want…food, a car, a new apartment, clothes. A time when I can indulge in bacon (although I’ll probably skip the ice cream from now on). Does that make me selfish?

Or travel. Can’t say I’m a big traveler (my sensitive stomach and swelling of my right leg make travel a bit problematic). All the time I see and hear of friends and family taking marvelous trips and I wonder, How do they get the money to do that? Then, I remember, oh, right, they have jobs.

I wonder why I can't have the life they seemingly have so easily. They have jobs, and I did, until I was told I didn't anymore through no fault of my own. Sometimes, it does make me angry. If it wasn't my fault, why am I the one dealing with the fallout? This summer, I bought two shirts — more out of defiance than need. I just wanted to buy clothes like everybody else.

I’m not jealous of others’ good fortune. I’m just wishing, hoping and dreaming of the day I can indulge as they do in nice clothes, trips … and bacon.