I’m a terrible liar. Along with his looks, I inherited something from my dad that we call the “lying face.” Really truly. We call him out on it all the time.
“Not so, Dad! You’ve got your lying face on. I can tell,” we chide him. Typically over something highly inconsequential. Often something he is teasing us about.
He’s convinced he doesn’t have a lying face. But he does. It’s something in the way his eyebrows raise and his mouth curls.
I don’t look in the mirror when I try to tell a fib, so I’m not sure what my lying face looks like. I just know I’m not very convincing when I try to weasel out of something or attempt to evade the truth. I’m just not a very good actress. My true feelings are like a neon sign flashing across my face.
Now, I kind of like spy shows. The trouble is after I watch them, I often wake up from dreams in which I’m speaking languages I don’t know, in countries I’ve never imagined traveling to, while eluding big burly captors to complete my mission. It makes for a restless night of sleep to be sure.
My only conclusion is somewhere in the recesses of my imagination I must have a desire to conquer my lying face and inability to act and become a covert agent.
Are you one of those people who remember your dreams? Do you think they reveal anything about your hidden desires? Or are they just a result of eating the wrong thing for dinner? (Liverwurst and buttermilk anyone?)