This months pretty header, created by Tracy, is “finding lyrical beauty in dreams” which has brought back a memory of her and I eating mangoes for breakfast and telling each other about our previous night’s dreams.  This memory is from 1993-ish when we shared a townhouse in North Vancouver.  I was newly single with my young son and she was just entering a new relationship; one that would last for many years and bless her with two beautiful children.  They were exciting but scary times for us both.   We ate a lot of mangoes.  I can’t remember what our dreams were all about back then.  I really wish I’d written them down.  I think it would be fun to look back at them now and see if there were any warnings or messages from those dreams that we could have or should have paid attention to.  Like if I dreamt of getting food poisoning after eating Greek food with Bruce Lee inside a tepee – that would definitely have meant DO NOT date Nick! Palm smack to the forehead.

Dreams are funny things.  When I was younger I put a lot of importance into what my dreams were trying to tell me.  I thought dreams were created by the wisest souls in the universe, all hovering over my head at night and conjuring up hundreds of creative messages in the form of a dream just to lead me down the right path in life.  Hmm.  Now I tend to think dreams are more like a bunch of random thoughts I’ve stored in my sub-conscious which then bubble to the surface of my brain during sleep to play out in any manner that suits them.  How else do you explain my dreams of playing tag with, and then cuddling up to, a giant grizzly – who spoke with a British accent and had minty fresh breath?

I still have dreams that feel very real and can affect my whole day.  My grandparents have both passed away but I’ve had dreams of my grandfather sitting and talking to me about old times and afterwards I’ve woken up feeling grateful and happy.  Every now and then I’ll dream of my grandmother laughing and then I’ll wake up laughing myself.  I’ve also woken in a really bad mood when I’ve dreamt that John has run off with Christina Aguilera…again!  Or wait, maybe that was his dream.  Either way, I’m cranky all day!

Sometimes John will have dreams that are more like nightmares where he is fighting for his life – usually against a giant British grizzly – and I’ll have to wake him up so he stops whimpering yelling in manly grunts.  I remember one night he woke me up by making this really strange sound through his nose – and not his usual racket commonly known as snoring.  This sounded more like a birthing cow.  I thought, oh dear, the poor guy is fighting some evil alien and losing, I better wake him up. When I kicked shook him gently, he rolled over and giggled.  Really? After the sounds you were just making you can giggle? The next morning I couldn’t wait to find out what he was dreaming about.  Turns out my strong manly husband dreamt he owned a cute baby elephant which he kept in the back yard.  The sounds I heard were of him calling his baby elephant over to him to play – in elephant talk.  Ohhh kayyy.  What do you suppose the spiritual message was in that dream?

All I know is that if I’m working on the code of a website all day; guess what my dreams are all about? Code.  If I’m pulling weeds in the garden all day – weeds.   If I’m painting the house – paint.  Am I just getting dull or have all those higher souls gone on to the next person who is in greater need of a creative message while they sleep? Or maybe they’ve deserted me because I never understood their crazy-ass messages and went down a few wrong paths despite all their hard work.

Oh Mr. Sandman bring me your dreams make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen



Last night I dreamed about a girl that I used to know in grade ten.  I didn’t know her well, we didn’t hang out together. She was just someone who was in a couple of my classes.  I have not thought of her or seen her since 1979 and yet, for some reason, I dreamed of her last night.    In my dream she was in distress.  I actually woke up and worried about a person that I barely knew over thirty years ago.  Where does that come from?  This person was a distant memory and somehow, for some reason, that memory bubbled to the surface.

I’ve written before about how I worry about having a bad memory.  I worry that I will succumb to Alzheimer’s disease like my grandmother did.  This fear was re-ignited the other day as I frantically tore my bathroom apart searching for a diamond stud earring that was innocently sitting in my earlobe already.  Was there too much on my mind while I attempted to do four things at once, or am I losing it?

I would hate to lose my memory because I have so many wonderful ones.  I also have this clever built-in feature where bad memories fade away quickly for me.  Last year I had an argument with my mother that upset me badly for a few months.  I went over and over the argument in my head trying to analyze every word exchanged.  I talked it out with my husband until we were both exhausted.  Then I put it out of my mind.  If I had to explain any of that argument now I’d be stumped.  I have completely buried the memory and I could not tell you what it was about to save my life. (If anyone reading this remembers please don’t remind me…thank you)

Good memories remain fresh for a life time however.  (So far at least.)  I remember sitting in the apple tree in my grandparent’s yard looking up at the clouds and feeling completely content and happy.  I was four.  Twenty one years ago I remember holding my new born son on my chest and realizing how overwhelming my love for him was.

Last weekend I was running around the house in a panic.  I was expecting company and I was late in preparing everything.  I stubbed my toe.  It was bleeding but I had too much to do to worry about it.  My husband made me stop for a moment.  He began to very gently put a band-aid around my wounded toe.  I suddenly felt like I was watching the scene from outside of my own body.  I felt such love and appreciation for my man that I could have burst. That is a memory that will stay fresh with me forever.

Perhaps the memory sifter in our brain is made of love and happiness.  Dreams? Well who can really explain where those come from.