Monday night I dreamt about people from my Tuesday night meeting. In 10 months of meetings, this was the first time I dreamt about people I know from recovery meetings. The dream was convoluted in the usual way dreams are. Their faces were recognizable but instead of being from the fellowship, they were coworkers from a waitressing job I forgot to show up for. It was no doubt carryover guilt from skipping my one and only meeting last week to watch Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune on the couch with my family.
The same night I dreamed about recovery people and waitressing, my little one had a dream about clowns and her best friend from preschool. And this was a good dream, mind you. She’s never seen Poltergeist. We talked about it in the car ride to school the next morning and then I thought A clown would be perfect for her birthday party.
I spent the last week stressing about her birthday party, which is this coming weekend. I get like that about parties or any event where I am responsible for providing structure because structure feels like something just beyond my grasp, although I crave it and assume everyone else does too. I still don’t really know how to pray but I thought more than once I wish for a little peace here. I wish I could just enjoy the excitement of my youngest turning four.
And the thing about a clown is he or she provides structure and whimsy in one terrifying package! Oh I kid. My little one’s terrified of stink bugs but give her a clown or a mascot in a beanie and pretty soon they’ll be filing a restraining order against her. She just loves them that much.
So this idea is germinating in my head about a clown and we get to daycare and, I kid you not, this little boy proudly shows us his stack of business cards featuring a smiling clown in braids. We ooh and aah over them and I note the name of the clown and google her when I get to work. I probably could have asked for one of his business cards, but the little boy is two and that might have been like taking one of his toys away.
The clown answers the phone when I call, so I have to do the whole awkward last minute fumbling inquiry about availability and rates. She isn’t a cheap clown, but I like what I see online and I like her even better on the phone. You know how you just get a good feeling about a clown? Well, she’s that kind of clown. She says she has to call a couple people back to see if she’s available, but I tell her I’m interested and give her my number. I then think to myself I’m putting this in fate’s hands. If we’re meant to have a clown, we will have a clown.
And we are meant to have a clown because she called me back this morning and we set the whole thing up and I frankly couldn’t be more excited about this birthday party. I have to make up food now to cut costs, but I’m even excited about that. What do you think clowns like to eat?
I can’t believe how this is all coming together. It started with asking for a little help and you never know what form that help might take. It might take shape in a dream and it might be a clown and a tinkerbell cake that you don’t have to make and family and friends coming from near and afar to share in your little one’s special day. These moments are precious. I don’t ever want to lose sight of that.