Waking up from a beautiful dream is a blessing. First because you’re waking up and second you have something beautiful to remember, to hold.  I believe all our dreams are precious and important, no matter how disturbing, distressing, uncomfortable, strange, or nefarious they might seem.  Gifts wrapped in satin or barbed wire, they are gifts nonetheless. We think about them on the way to the can as we relieve ourselves, in the shower reveling in hot water, wondering. We examine them and call up their minute details on the drive to work, in between emails, distracted, bemused, unsettled, wondering.

No one has the magic answer that decodes our dreams. They are studied and we’ve learned so much about them, and I appreciate all the effort and time that so many have put into understanding our sleeping selves. In the end, our dreams are personal. We have many docents who guide us to keep our hand on the prickly rope on our journey down into the dark as we seek the secret minerals that glow in red and green, blue and what is that at night.  Everyone will experiences their own journey, and I believe it’s important that no should define a dream, that midnight walk when the body is paralyzed. Guide, but do not define.  Suggest, offer a hand, but only the dreamer knows what it means.

I know when I dream I am healthy. My mind is unlocked while my body heals from the day.  When my dreams are absent I do worry.  My sleeping habits are not great, so it’s no wonder my dreams aren’t faithful. That’s okay.  The misses remind me to do better in every way.  Now for two dreams that will mean little to anyone except for me, one little and one a little bit bigger in two different posts.