Dreams are a useful, if bizarre source of inspiration....if you can remember them....
I dream that my two twenty-somethings have at last moved out.
They’re living in an elongated building- prefab-type- hut, the type used for school classrooms when there’s no money to build a school. He lives in blissful chaos at one end of it and she in fear of fire at the other.
I explain to her that fire alarms usually work if you check the battery from time to time and to catch herself on and to start living her life. Then I go to tell him to mind her.
His hair is shoulder length and he looks hung-over and all of his friends appear to have moved in with him. Asking him to mind her! How **** up have things become?
And I return home to find that our house has rooms we never knew we had.
And what else do I find but an infant growing faster than you can say Jack Robin
or Rabbit or whatever it is. It can even pull its sleeves right –side- out
and it’s talking to Stevie in no time at all, saying, “Gimme a break Da!”
And suddenly there’s another infant; I’m dropping them like hotcakes. And baby one catches baby two when I actually do drop it; our twenty-somethings
were never that fast or that smart.
But don’t babies in dreams always mean something else? And in my case creative endeavours wasting away in an attic or basement or outhouse, me not knowing they even existed?
At least these two are fast growers and fast talkers.
I waken up and my twenty-somethings are still here- he in the attic conversion and she in the garage one.
And to tell you the truth
it’s a bit of a relief…..
Copyright with Cathy Leonard 2016