September 8, 2009 by Amy Elliott Bragg
Dream – 9/6/09
I decided to move back to Wisconsin — to Green Bay — just weeks after moving to Michigan for love. The reason was apparently also for love, as I had learned that my friend Tim was moving to Green Bay and establishing a polyamorous love colony on a big river. I was halfway to Wisconsin by ferry when it occurred to me that the happily married Tim had in no way invited me to join his waterfront love squad. I thought maybe he would still want to be friends, anyway. I tried not to feel any regret for making this impulsive decision and leaving behind a known quantity — sweet, steady love in Michigan— for a completely left-field unknown. When I got to Green Bay, I found a reedy swamp, more an encampment than a town, made out of mud and sticks. I didn’t know anyone besides Tim and his wife, but a few people welcomed me with kisses on the mouth.
I decided to stay and look for freelance work. I swam in the river, on my back, squinting through the branches and the gnatty air to a hazy, half-enclouded sun, trying not to think about how stupid I was.
When I woke up early in the morning, I thought about this dream before I fell asleep again. When I fell asleep, I had another version of this dream, in which I was moving to Green Bay not just for uncertain polyamorous love but also a job at a newspaper desk. I had to leave urgently — to catch the ferry and to start my important new position — but my boss wouldn’t let me go until I washed all the floors at the old office. I was surrounded by girls who were leaving for college. I think I was kind of a camp counselor. I was so anxious I wanted to scream, and people from my new job kept calling and asking when I’d be there, and I knew that Tim and his lovers would not want to have me if I didn’t get there in time, but I felt like I couldn’t just leave those girls, and that floor.