sweet dreams

Dreams. To tell or not to tell!

I remember from my earliest childhood days, coming down the narrow staircase and into the kitchen where there might be one, several, or none of my family eating breakfast as that meal wasn't an all-sit-down occasion during the week as were all the other meals, and if there was a body there, I would begin to tell my dream of the just-ended night. Without fail, if my oldest brother was present he would say, "no, we don't want to hear about it"! I was always crushed because I had some doozies to relate!

Although my dreams are rarely frightening, I can still remember one that terrified me - about some strange, ominous man on our back porch who called up to me as I was looking out of the open slat of our hidden "clubhouse" under the barn rafters, that he was coming to get me and sew me up in a bag. I screamed and of course there was no sound! I remember if as if it happened yesterday rather than some 65 years ago!

Then there were the wonderful times I was flying above the buildings, just flapping my arms to stay afloat. Such an exquisite soaring sensation - such power and freedom.

But now, often, when I try to catch my dreams upon awakening, they are elusive, filmy tails I try to grab on to and they are just beyond my reach.

Other times I am blessed with a time with my dad, or my mother, or some dear friend who has passed on to whatever lies beyond. And they are so real. I absolutely cherish those times.

And if you drop in, I'll tell you all about it!