A Dream

   I guess I am odd. I am aware of my dreams every night. Usually they are not good dreams, rather terrifying actually, but I am aware of them and I remember them when I wake up.

    I have been gored by a rhino, shot by a machine gun in WWII, drown in the English Channel, and slipped off of a cliff. All in dreams.

    Maybe this is why I wake up grateful to be alive every day. When I was a little girl, I would be so relieved that I really had not fallen out of an airplane window or sawed in half that I was excited about every new day.

     Imagine.

     Last night I had a good dream. A peaceful, surreal, sweet dream. Those are so rare for me.

     I dreamed that I had already completed the repairs and had moved into the home that is now indefinitely on hold. I dreamed the colors I had picked worked out marvelously and that my garden was also coming along nicely.

     As I walked around in my garden, I sat on a bench that I had made. I picked fruit from vines that seemed to have no direction or plan.

     It was a splendid garden, sort of English style. Not to planned, more meandering and lovely. It was peaceful.

     It was a lovely dream. It was filled with possibilities. When I woke up, I jotted some notes in my notebook and made a couple of sketches to remind me in case I ever do get the opportunity to create such loveliness.

     How wonderful would it be to experience such peaceful tranquility in real life? Perhaps I will someday have the chance to know. In the mean time, I will continue to work towards creating a bit of peace here and there.

     For now, I will be content that I still have a garden that is providing me with some food. I will be content that right now I do not have to mow anything. (Phew!) For now, I will find contentment in today, rather than being upset that it was only a dream.

   

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