Dreaming of distant times....

Dear readers:

  I have been neglectful, again. But truthfully I've not had much to say. Life has plodded along, same old same old. Nothing new to report. My Mom always said if you had nothing nice to say...don't say anything at all. And it's not that I didnt have anything nice to say, I just hate to ramble in these posts. So I figued it was best I say nothing. But know, that I have missed you and this blog. And we'll see what happens.


~K


I often have odd dreams. Peculiar even. I've dreampt in 3^rd person, where I'm watching myself (as if watching a movie) in a dream. I've had lucid dreams where I'm aware that I'm dreaming, and able to alter an manipulate the course of the dream if I don't like the direction the dream is going. But never have I dreampt about myself and interacted with myself in a dream – until last night.

I dreampt I was at a party (at first seemingly as if I were watching a fully immersible virtual reality movie). I could see myself (much younger) sitting at a table with family and childhood friends. It was evening, and judging by the way people were dressed, most likely summer. I could even see the colourful patio lanterns that we had when I was young out on our back patio. They brightly lit up outside of the window that my younger self had her back to.

My younger sister-in-law, Christine stood beside the current me at one point (she was a child) asking my younger self for something or about something, but I have no idea what that may have been or why she was there. She didn't seem to notice the older me, or if she did – she said nothing.

I remember at one point I followed myself down the hall towards the bedrooms. The house as I remember it to be when I was 3 or 4. When I arrived to where my bedroom would have been, the dream shifted slightly and I was standing in the hallway of my maternal Grandparents home. Their home was similar to ours and around the corner.

I was standing in the bedroom doorway looking at myself and another young girl, who now I'm uncertain as to who it was, although I believe at the time I knew. I asked “How old are you here?” looking down at my younger self. “Five and a half.” I replied proudly but with a slight tone of “you should know that” that I am all too familiar with. Such attitude!

I nodded, turned on my heel (noting to myself that I was only 4 or so when we had moved out of the house I had been dreaming of), and entered my Grandparents bedroom. I looked over my Grandmother's dresser for something and then walked towards her cedar chest. I'm aware I'm looking for something, but I'm also aware I have no idea what that “something” is.

I saw my Mom standing just inside the doorway and I began apologizing to her for sending her “the letter”. She insists that it is fine and not to worry about it. I have no idea (even as I was dreaming it) what letter I'm talking about or referring to. Not a clue.

I don't ever recall writing my mother a letter of any significance. I just know I was quite upset about sending her this letter – whatever it was and desperately wanted her forgiveness for it.
I can remember embracing her and being able to actually smell her perfume in my nose. It was calming, and comforting. Her birthday is approaching this week - and I'd like to think that maybe she paid me a visit so I could give her a hug for her birthday.

One Last Glimpse,

~K