Friday, August 10, 2012

I Like Dreamin'....

"Sweet dreams are made of this..." - Eurythmics 

Well, the all bird rock band was up and at’em again this morning, (See past post “You’re Getting Sleepy…Not”) but at least I was already awake this time. And I slept well, (a rarity these days) and with no weird dreams. Although, I can’t curse those weird dreams, as they have given me a few story ideas.

When I was a child, there was a house at the end of our street in which resided two sisters who seemed to be as old as Methuselah (at least in my child mind). They had a hedged-in back yard that you couldn’t see into, with the marsh beyond. And no one was ever around, so to me it seemed mysterious. I dreamt, one night, of pushing through the hedge and into the backyard, and as I did, stepped into a magical world of yesteryear. I’ve often thought of writing a children’s story about it, but, now it seems a little “Harry Potter”-ish. (Damn you J. K. Rowling)

As a teen, I had a recurring dream in which the sky turned orange, and aliens with two hearts and six fingers on each hand came down to Earth and took me away to their beautiful planet where everyone was happy and there was world peace. (I guess I was full of teen angst.) All I wanted was world and every beauty pageant contestant…ever.

Most of my dreams tend to be on the strange side, but I’ve gotten pretty good at analyzing them. Of course the above mentioned all bird rock band was just a rude wake-up call while trying to sleep in, the hedge was childish curiosity, and the aliens abduction, a combination of a bad day and love of sci-fi.

There are, also, the silly little snippet dreams, like the one I had about slurping soup. Plain, vegetable-less, bland broth. “Pray tell, what could that mean”,  you ask? You didn’t ask? Oh, well, I’ll tell you anyway. What better for a troubled tummy than some soup?

And the one where my brother is rolling a boulder down the stairs at me. We were kids and I was sick at the time. I was too weak to move, and he was teasing me to death. (Of course, he was trying to kill me)

Then there was the one where I went to tour this heritage home. The main floor was normal, but when I got upstairs, it was one big room filled with appliances. They were laid off as the walls of rooms, and people were wandering though them choosing which they liked best. They all looked the same to me. Only a handful of us were taken to the basement. It was dark and we crouched down against the wall.  The guide told us to be very quiet, and as we crouched there, very still, a raspy voice called my name. The guide took me to the source, and I found that it was an old woman with white, cataract-covered eyes. The woman read my mind and said I was the one. The guide explained that this was an important person who needed a new guardian and that I had been chosen….Okay that one was a bit too bizarre for me to analyze.

I sometimes think there is something terribly messed up in my brain, but I’d be lost without the weirdness. I guess the moral of my long, drawn-out story is, a good night’s sleep is something that is needed and wanted, but, "There's gold in them thar dreams!"

I like dreaming.

Friday, August 3, 2012


"While there's life, there's hope." - Marcus Tullius Cicero

To the quiet child who gets overlooked, because she’s not assertive enough.

To the girl who fears God, because she was led to believe that He will punish her for any little mistake.

To the young lady who walks with her head down because she feels unworthy to meet the gaze of others.

To the student whose heart pounds and brow sweats in fear of being asked a question in class, not because she does not know the answer, but because everyone would be looking at her.

To the teen that is afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing and evoking laughter from her peers.

To the youth, who tries to smile when adults say, “You’re just shy”, making it sound like it is not a big deal.

To the adult who has anxiety attacks before work because her low self-esteem and insecurities have followed her from childhood.

You are fortunate. Your quiet, sensitive nature has presented you the opportunity to observe, absorb and empathize with your world.

You may not be the one to command attention, but you can study those around you, discover their strengths and weaknesses, and understand that all are human, with their pride and their doubts.

You are capable of deducing what is fair and what is not. That not everything you are told is truth and that following your own truth is what will lead to happiness.

You have the capacity to see the diversity of mankind, to empathize, and realize that everyone is worthy, including you.

You can force yourself to be strong enough to accept that others do want to hear what you have to say.

You have the ability to understand that not all ideas are the best ideas, but that your input is just as valuable as any other.

You know that you have your challenges, and so does everyone else. There are no perfect people. We all need help from time to time, and that is a good thing. It keeps us humble. It keeps us connected.

Most importantly, you are capable of forgiving yourself for your perceived flaws, and understanding that perception is relative. Your flaws, as well as your talents, make you who you are.

You are unique. Special.  Valuable. Loved. The world is different because you are in it...because I am in it.

Our possibilities are endless.

This post is part of a Hope relay. As we celebrate the Olympics, Melanie Crutchfield had the fabulous idea to pass the torch of “Hope” around the blogging community. The idea being that she has asked some fabulous folks to write about Hope, and then we ask some more fabulous folks to write about Hope and before you know it, Hope is spreading around the blogging community! Melanie is going to compile all of the posts she can at the end of the Olympics and host her own version of the closing ceremonies.
I invite any and all of you to write on the topic of Hope, but I am officially passing the baton of Hope to my followers. I hope that you will each choose to write your own stories of Hope, because I gather a lot of Hope from all of you.