I know, I know- two posts after no posts and I haven’t had a chance to gather comment gratification from the one below yet, but moving on…
It’s 5 AM and that galumph of a cat just woke me up with some long conversation or other. I think it was in Vietnamese.
I dreamed I ended this blog (thanks, Judy) and started another one focused on my time spent in Australia (never been, but the latest issue of Abby’s Dive magazine that comes to the house and is on my nightstand has a gorgeous spread on the Great Barrier Reef).
I named my new blog Gerundii from Down Undie and it had little essays about life with my mother (my most taxing English grammar school teacher, in the tenth grade. Did I mention that I miss her?). John Denver had come to the house to do a musical special highlighting it and was wandering around from room to room , carrying his guitar and singing songs with odd lyrics for the camera. The taping ended (Dan called tonight to say they had just finished a week of studio recording on the band’s third CD release), the recording crew left, Rich went to bed and John Denver started flirting with me. I giggled along for a bit (ala the salon incident below) and then rebuffed him.
He was obligingly sheepish, killed a bug that looked like a red pincher bug (thanks, Florida anthropoda insecta. Lincoln Park Zoo, here I come.) and said he was just so impressed with my work with the NCAA (Rich called to tell me to hold the dates for the Final Four in Atlanta the end of March). I looked momentarily puzzled and then he reminded me that we met on some morning news show when I was promoting the cause for all NCAA athletes to adopt needy children ( a flash from my professional past, when I did an hour long adoption special with CBS This Morning).
In my last waking hours yesterday, I had dinner with Abby. She told me how much she was enjoying her advanced grammar class and we laughed about that genetic thread coming from her grandmother. At the end of dinner I said something about my trip to Chicago this morning and she said, "You MAY very well catch your plane by leaving at that time, but the chance that you MIGHT be flying tomorrow is slight."
Sigh. Always digging deeper at night. I need two more hours of sleep. Ciao.
A Mark On My Wall 
OK???!!! If that bird digs any deeper he’s going to hit YOUR brain. No. That’s not right… I dream.. I know I do. But very rarely do I remember them.. You are laughing. Yes, I know that NOT remembering them means they are “in the gutter”. Usually the ones I remember involve the nightmarish scenes of me reuniting with my ex…. and another me, standing in the shadows… screaming NO!NO!NO!NO! to the top of my lungs. I am always a wreck after those.
Once, and only once mind you… and oh how I wish it would happen again… I dreamed that Liam Neeson opened his arms, swooped me up and carried me away, all the while whispering sweet nothings in my ear…. I do believe there was some sort of white stallion involved. But I woke suddenly to a little face in front of mine whispering…. “I had a bad dream Mommy”. Sigh.
The Nyssa made it back to school. Barely. We were standing by the car, throwing the last of the unboxed, unsuitcased stuff into the back seat. Hoping the doors would shut and knowing that several things had been left behind. True to form… so far I’ve found six things she forgot. Starter people.
Chicago. Bears game?
I have dreams about flying, but never through O’Hare. That would be more of a nightmare! (especially, but not confined to the winter) John Denver is my husband’s favorite; how did he get mixed up in your dream? And I need info, zoo lady: we will be leaving for San Diego for a meet on Thursday. Friday we plan to visit the San Diego zoo. Any recommendations?
A dream is a wish your heart makes…
~Cinderella
You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!
~Peter Pan
All the “spirituality” types as Seminary, (sadly, I’m in this group by virtue of my concentration!) seem to think that dreaming is a way for the Universe to communicate. I personally think that the Universe should switch to dropping anvils from the sky and stop being so damn chatty at night. I need beauty sleep, tyvm. And OBVIOUSLY, some people (like our president) aren’t listening to their dreams. Anvil would be handy, wouldn’t it. 😀
I rarely remember so much meat of my dreams. When I do I can never trace their origin piece by piece like you have done so splendidly here. This was almost like an episode of LOST.