Wednesday, May 1, 2013

A Thought of a Dream

Just a quick thought.  I don't want to take up too much of your time, but is there anything better than a good dreaming?  I don't mean the Ms Pac Man needs your help kind of dreaming, but the kind where you and your spouse get to come together and plan and scheme and change minds and improve older dreams and really get to settle in deep to a good wondering.  A good think.

A have a great wife for dreaming.  She gives and takes and her ideas aren't stupid.  It was one of my greatest fears to marry a woman with stupid ideas.  Her's are good, even though they are different then mine?! But also she gets me, and she understands what I mean when I say, 'Those big ol' pink bushes all over Capri' or 'Yeah, I just don't want the whole thing to start looking all 'Cafeteria Chic''. She's good like that.

I have always been a dreamer, both a night one and a day one.  School was just a place where I could go and relax and really let my mind wander.  I have better memories of thoughts I thought in high school then lessons prepared and refined and taught to me.  My Antonia...

Work is sometimes that way, though it's harder with customers constantly interrupting me with their own thoughts and dreams. But I make due. Today I repainted all the old wood furniture left in the back yard of some house I don't even own yet. But I dreamt I did. I went with robbins egg blue, to make the birds feel more comfortable.

My kids are where I dream the greatest. My three year old lives in a whole world all her own. Some times I join her there but I like to bring a small brown suitcase and pull dreams out that I have brought from my world and shake them out and see how they fit in hers.  She loves them. Tonight we had to decide what each of the three fairies that live in our back yard did for a living and what color they were:

Twinkle: Blue. She's really responsible for the watering of the plants.

Dinkle: Orange.  She brings sunlight to each flower in her bucket and spreds it like butter over their faces.  Also, she has a tooth business on the side.

Dot: Pink. It's her job to wake up each flower in morning with a kiss and put each one to bed with a song. And there is a song.

My parents planted my dreaming seed.  Well, if not, then they grew it. My parents were not professional artists or actors or comedians or writers but I thought they were...and so I wanted to be.  They valued the parts of me that were different from my brothers and never put my dreams in drawers or jars.  That way they stayed fresh. I suppose I owe my dreams to them, some of which have gotten bigger, some smaller, so small they might be mistaken for a wish, but they hold fast and are not fleeting.  And sometimes, I dream for them. For those I reach deep into the back of my suitcase for my most precious spheres, dancing with my finest dreams.  And float them their direction.    
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