A Matter of Priorities

 

 

Jeremy was pacing up and down the aisle of electronic equipment at Sid’s Premium Electronics.  He just couldn’t make up his mind about what to buy.  He went into the store determined to purchase a top quality sound system for his living room.  He had grown tired of his current system.  Although it was only a year old, it had become obsolete in his eyes.  He wanted all the latest features, especially the remote control options.  Now that he was there, confronted by such a cornucopia of products, the choices seemed overwhelming to him. The prices ranged from eighty-nine dollars for the bottom of the line to nine hundred and seventy-nine dollars for the premier model with all the features one could ever imagine or hope for.  They came in all colors, shapes and sizes as well.  As soon as he made up his mind about one model, he found another that seemed even more appealing to him.  The hours went by as he vacillated from one decision to the next.  The beautiful spring day that might have beckoned him was waning as the hours wore on.  Finally, he made his decision.  He went with the medium priced model.  Although his heart was set upon the most expensive, he could not justify the price.  He waited on the end of a long line of customers with their prizes in hand.  Cheryl, the checkout clerk, was an elderly woman who was obviously struggling with standing in one place for so long; nevertheless, she made a brave attempt at courtesy.  Jeremy, however, barely noticed her, for in his mind he was still debating his decision.  Although he had entered the store with the greatest of expectations, he found that as he was carrying his purchase to his car, he felt inexplicably depressed.  He felt let down although he wasn’t quite sure why.  He had to navigate his package through a parking lot filled with people coming and going: teenagers, mothers with their young children, young couples, families and people alone like himself. 

The drive from the mall to his studio apartment was a short one, about ten minutes.  He was somewhat distracted and could not seem to focus so that when he lingered at the stop light after it turned green, he was nearly catapulted out of his seat from the jarring sound of car horns voicing their collective displeasure behind him.  By the time Jeremy got back to his apartment, he found himself in an unpleasant mood and shouted at his Siamese cat when he tried to rub against his leg.  “Sam,” he shouted, “get out of my way!”  Sam, of course, barely paid him any mind. 

He spent the next few hours dismantling his old audio system and replacing it with the system he just purchased newly removed from its cocoon of plastic wrap and Styrofoam.  He painstakingly connected all the cables, and when he was done, turned it on.  He tested the volume by turning the sound level all the way up, and was satisfied.  He put on his headphones and was completely immersed in the world of his music.  The phone rang but he didn’t hear it.  His brain relinquished all its concerns, its frustrations, its disappointments and gave itself to the rhythms that were relentlessly pouring into him.  For those moments while he was “plugged in,” he was free of cares.   Everything was right with the world and with his life.  Ultimately, it was hunger, however, that pried him away from his sound system.  As soon as he disconnected himself from his equipment, all the feelings that were suspended above him fell back into his consciousness with abandon.  He once again was confronted with all of the concerns that he passionately tried to escape.  He thought of Melissa, his girlfriend, and how she, in so many ways, was a stranger to him.  He thought of his job working at the helpdesk for a company that made video games depicting violence and mayhem, and how unsatisfied he was with that work.  He could not sustain these thoughts for very long, and, remembering his hunger, he sought the solace of food.

He opened the refrigerator to find all the usual suspects:  the half filled plastic container of milk almost sour, the left over slices of pizza unwrapped and not looking particularly appetizing, the block of cheddar cheese almost entirely covered with mold, cans of beer lined up on the shelf like soldiers prepared for battle and an open tin of tuna fish next to jars of ketchup, mayonnaise and mustard.  Such was the bounty he saw before him.  Needless to say, he was not enthused.  He perfunctorily took out the can of tuna, the jar of mayonnaise and some stale white bread sitting on top of the refrigerator.  As he was preparing a tuna fish sandwich, he glanced over at the telephone and noticed that he had a message waiting for him.  He picked up the receiver, pressed the replay button on the answering machine and heard Melissa’s voice.

“Hi sweetie, I just called to say hello.  I’m just hanging out this evening and probably will be washing my hair; it really needs it.  Give me a call if you have a chance.  I would like to hear from you.  Love you.”  The voice dropped away as she hung up.

Jeremy loved Melissa, he was certain of that, but he was feeling down and really didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially her.  He began to pace up and down the confining perimeters of his apartment.  As he often did when anxiety and uncertainty plagued him, his unsettled mind, like his feet, paced up and down the same neural circuitry.  Thoughts came and went in waves.  They were discontinuous thoughts illogical and imprecise yet they possessed a bizarre internal consistency.  His train of thinking could not lead him to any resolution or satisfactory conclusions.  Such is the way of the troubled mind.

His body eventually grew weary of the worry, confusion and stress.  He did not want to face that empty bed even though it was beckoning to him.  He knew only too well that once he reclined in that bed, insomnia would overtake him.  He had not had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.

He was so tired of dealing with life without having enough sleep that he decided to self medicate.  He came to depend on his old faithful drug: alcohol.  He set the bottle of scotch on table next to his bed with his scotch glass.  He turned on the television at the foot of his bed and began filling his glass and downing drink after drink; until, he began to grow sleepy.  His strategy seemed to be working.  He was watching the sports channel, and, as his senses began to dull, the figures on the huge screen TV became more and more indistinct.  Eventually, he fell fast asleep right in the middle of an infomercial all about the benefits of liposuction.  What Jeremy had not counted on was that his sleep would be invaded by a most unsettling dream.

 

The dream began with him in a huge house with many, many rooms.  In each room the walls were bare and slanted.  These rooms were connected by hallways that stretched as far as the eye could see.  Jeremy frantically walked through these rooms apparently looking for something.  He heard voices in the distance that were calling to him.  But try as he may, all the rooms he entered were empty.  As he moved farther and farther into the interior of the house, he could not find any exit.  He entered a complex labyrinth from which there was no apparent escape.  Panic soon took over and reached such a crescendo that he began to scream.  At this point he woke up and found himself unable to fall back asleep, but now for a different reason, for he became frightened that the dream might recur.