Do Dreams Come True?

I recently dreamed that a man with a red spot on his face mentioned me in a speech shortly before he died. When I awakened, I was puzzled. But I soon realized that it doesn’t matter whether I know a man with a red spot on his face or not; dreams don’t have to make sense. In fact, they hardly ever do.

Nobody believes dreams are anything except the imagination running wild, or the way the mind releases tensions after falling asleep. There has been dream study for many years, but, to this day, there is no accepted biological explanation to answer the question, "what are dreams?" So, we just laugh as we share them with friends and family – and then they are forgotten.

However some of us, especially children, choose to believe that dreams actually do come true – the good ones at least.

When I was about ten, I had a dream in which I saw myself riding a shiny blue bike. I was smiling and obviously happy. When I awakened, I lay in my bed thinking about the dream with pleasure for a long while, but finally dismissed it and went on with my day. My birthday was only a few days away and I hadn’t asked for anything in particular. I was blessed, as an only child, to have most everything I wanted or needed. But when my father came home from work one evening, he said, “I want you to walk down to Keefer’s with me.” Keefer’s was the only hardware store in the small town where I grew up, and it wasn’t unusual for my dad to take me places with him, so off we went for the three or four block jaunt to Keefer’s.

Once there, my dad led me straight to a section where they had a few bicycles set up. My eyes were drawn immediately to a blue one with the name Mercury on the front of it. I’ll never forget the name because, I mispronounced it... “Oh, look at the pretty, blue McCury!” I said, and my father laughed.

“Try it on for size,” he said. I jumped right on, so excited I could hardly contain myself. “Oh, it’s just right. I love it!” I fairly squealed.

With a most satisfied look, my father paid the cashier and I rode the shiny blue bike home~ as per my dream a few nights before! I’m sure I was the happiest kid in town that day.

Believe it or not, some dreams really do come true!

The Cruel Bug

Your life is going just great when, suddenly, your body is ravaged by the bug. “The twenty-four-hour bug,” they call it. Misnomer, if I’ve ever heard one! Whatever its name, when it pays you a visit, it brings all kinds of misery with it.

It keeps you in your lavatory at least one whole day purging your body of every ounce of food you’ve put into it for days and most of the life-giving liquid. And on the second day, if you’re lucky, you have just about enough strength to take a quick shower before falling back into bed shivering and sleeping for a couple more hours. Hopefully, you have someone (who isn’t sick) to bring plenty of liquids to your bedside.

Don’t even try to eat!  Yuck!  Nothing in the way of food sounds even remotely appetizing. Basically, you just want to sleep. Except you have to wake up sometime – and then you’re right back in the nightmare you slept to escape.  Huh?

After struggling for two days to follow your mother’s advice, “You must eat to build up your strength!” You finally talk to your doctor who says, “Oh, no. You don’t feel like eating. Just rest and drink plenty of liquids so you don’t get dehydrated.” If only you'd known that sooner, you wouldn’t have been making yourself sicker trying to eat food you didn’t want! 

I guess even when we grow up thinking our mothers are right about everything, that’s not always the case.

The days drag on... one... two... three...

It seems as though the misery will never pass, but one day you wake up, the sun is shining and you realize you feel okay. Not great, but you’re probably going to live. And right then and there, you pray you’ll never have to tangle with that “cruel bug,” again.

Yet, down deep in your soul, you know you will.

She Keeps Changing Her Mind

Today was a typical March day.

When I got up this morning, the skies were gray and snow was flying. The flakes were so large and dense that I could barely see across the street. What a beautiful sight! But within minutes, it had stopped and the sun was shining! There’s no doubt March is a woman – the way she keeps changing her mind.

My son was up early and took pictures of the winter wonderland that was his backyard. Knowing my habits, as well as those of March, he was afraid I’d sleep too late and miss the snowy beauty that I love so much; so he very thoughtfully sent me the pictures. I was thrilled when I saw them!

It squalled most of the day – first snow, then sunshine – acting exactly as we've learned to expect March to act.

March is mostly known for its gusty winds, but there are other memorable things as well. In our part of the country, we start seeing all kinds of new growth shooting up out of the earth. If you planted bulbs in November, you’ll probably start to see the fruits of your labor this month. You'll soon see spectacular fields of daffodils - and possibly tulips. They can bloom any time from late March until June, depending on the variety. Many trees are budding. At any rate, we’re seeing enough growth to give us hope that the long winter is behind us and spring is almost here. But don’t be fooled! March is very erratic. One day, it will be spring-like and the next, it may be snowing and feel like winter again.

Today was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. ~Charles Dickens

Welcome Sweet Springtime

   
March 1^st.

In my little corner of the world, the third month of our new year has definitely arrived like a lamb. The sun shines brightly, and the temperature hovers around 60 degrees. Beautiful!

But do not be deceived. March is known to be the most unpredictable of all the months of the year. As the saying goes, if March comes in like a lamb, she’ll roar out like a lion, so thirty-one days from now, we could have ankle-deep snow, or rains and high winds that wreak havoc. We hope none of that occurs, but past history proves that it’s possible.

The good thing is, winter officially ends with March. Spring in the northern half of the world begins with the vernal equinox, which occurs on March 20 or 21 depending on the year. The equinox occurs twice a year when the sun is directly above the equator. At this point, the hours of darkness and daylight are equal in length. 

An old superstition calls the first three days of March "blind days" because they are "unlucky." If rain falls on these days, farmers supposedly will have poor harvests. Some superstitious farmers wait until the fourth day of March to do their planting.

Many changes take place in March. Animals end their hibernation and many plants come to life. The sap flows in the trees again, buds begin to show up, and soon, the first robin will herald the beginning of spring.

Suddenly, the world seems brighter.

I believe all seasons, like all people, have some good in them. If you’ve been reading this blog very long, you know that I truly love fall and winter, but when spring arrives with its sunny days and budding flowers and trees, it’s difficult not to love it, too. The seasons sometimes remind me of my children; I love each of them differently—for their diverse qualities.

A very smart lady once told me: “When we are in tune with the changes that happen around us - like the varying seasons or a child or a person who needs some special attention, then we are truly living a full life.”  ~svm

Thankfully, I am. In all seasons! Hope you are, too.

Welcome Sweet Springtime!

The Cold Within

 Six humans trapped in happenstance in dark and bitter cold,

    Each one possessed a stick of wood, or so the story's told.

Their dying fire in need of logs the first woman held hers back,

    For of the faces around the fire, she noticed one was black.

The next man looking across the way saw not one of his church,

    And couldn't bring himself to give the fire his stick of birch.

The third one sat in tattered clothes. He gave his coat a hitch.

    Why should his log be put to use to warm the idle rich?

The rich man just sat back and thought of the wealth he had in store,

    And how to keep what he had earned from the lazy, shiftless poor.

The black man's face bespoke revenge as the fire passed from sight,

    For all he saw in his stick of wood was a chance to spite the white.

The last man of this forlorn group did naught except for gain,

    Giving only to those who gave was how he played the game.

The logs held tight in death's still hands was proof of human sin,

    They didn't die from the cold without, they died from the cold within.

                                                               ~ James Patrick Kinney

Reprinted from the Dear Abby column, Sunday, December 18, 2011

Thanks to my friend, Hugh Jones, for sharing!

All In A Day's Work

I’m afraid of heights. Even climbing a flight of stairs makes me dizzy. Every time I’m on an elevator, I visualize how high it is and wonder, “What if this thing malfunctions?” Once when we stayed at a beachside hotel, our suite was on the 21^st floor! I didn’t know it until we checked in. The ocean and surrounding scenery were spectacular from way up there, but looking down from the balcony literally made me sick!

I guess that’s why when I heard a loud buzzing noise this morning and looked out to see where it was coming from, I was immediately unnerved by what I saw. 

It was a young man high in a tree – very high!  Studying his position: between two spindly looking branches with a lot of bare trunk below him before he would reach the next sturdy fork to stand in, I couldn’t imagine him coming down from that tree alive, although Mr. H. assured me he would. “He knows what he’s doing, he said. Just watch.”

So I grabbed my camera to record what I saw. I’m no photographer, but can manage to get a reasonable reproduction if I’m determined enough. At least, trying to focus on getting pictures kept me from watching his every action and therefore, relieved my fears a little.

 As you can see in the above picture, he has cut one of the branches and is all set to cut the other one. This is where it gets “hairy!” Maybe not for him, but it's making me extremely nervous! 

Although he looks pretty comfortable, doesn’t he? But he still has to cut the other limb and get down to the fork – looks like a long step to me!

The other branch is gone. Here comes that long step...

Well, I’ll be darned!  He did it! Right on down that trunk he goes just like a monkey! Mr. H. was right. He knew what he was doing after all and there was no need for me to worry.

It was all in a day’s work for him! With the limbs that towered high into the sky taken care of, he and his helpers finished the job in no time.

And somebody has been blessed with a big pile of firewood!

Click on pictures for larger view.

Who Doesn't Love Chocolate?

All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt!  ~Charles Schulz

When a friend recently told me she didn’t care for chocolate, I didn’t know how to react. 

“I thought the world was full of chocoholics,” I said, “with me at the top of the list. I can’t get enough of it, especially the dark stuff.”

“What do you like in place of chocolate?” I asked her (as if anything could replace chocolate)!  "Peppermint?  Butterscotch?  Lemon?"

She explained that she prefers salty snacks – especially popcorn – to sweet ones. Always has.

I guess when something seems like the norm to us, it’s hard to accept that others may be different. We once took our grandson to an ice cream store that had 36 different flavors. When he ordered vanilla, without even considering any of the others, I laughed at him, and then promptly ordered chocolate for myself.

I was born loving chocolate! Once, when I was very young, my mother baked a beautiful cake for a church dinner. She placed it on the kitchen table and went to get ready for the event. I kept eyeing that cake, with at least half-inch thick chocolate frosting swirling all over it, until I couldn’t resist the temptation any longer.

She’d never know if I just scraped a tiny bite off with my finger and tasted it, I thought.  Ummmm!  It was every bit as good as it looked. Maybe just one more tiny taste. So my little index finger helped itself to one more bite... and another, and another until the poor cake was almost devoid of frosting.

When my mother walked into the kitchen and saw what I’d done, she almost fainted!  Shrinking from her angry glare, I said meekly, “I just wanted to taste it.”

As I’ve said before, my mother was very strict. It was her belief that no teaching is effective except as it springs out of experience. So I had to learn a lesson from experience that day. Again.

She said, “Okay. You tasted it. Did you like it?” I nodded.

“That’s good, because now you can eat the whole cake – every bite of it – all by yourself!”

That wasn’t good news for me because, although I loved icing, I didn’t care much for cake – especially cake without icing!

Didn’t matter. For the next several days, every time I wanted a cookie or a piece of candy, Mother would hand me a piece of cake. At first, it wasn’t so bad, but after about three days, that cake was beginning to dry out and I was having a hard time getting it down.

When my parents enjoyed after-dinner dessert, I was given a piece of dry cake! I finally began to pick at it, sulking, until my mother would tell me to go to my room. I was beginning to think I’d never finish that cake, but, when there was about a third of it left, I got up one morning and it was gone. I looked all around the kitchen~ even in the refrigerator, but it wasn’t there!

Sheepishly, I asked, “Where’s the cake?”

“Funny thing,” Mother said, “When I got up this morning, the cake was gone; there were only a few crumbs left on the plate. Maybe your daddy took it to work in his lunch box.” Even at that young age, I recognized pretense when I heard it. And followed suit...

“Or maybe a big rat came in and ate it during the night,” I said gleefully.

“Maybe,” she agreed, with a big smile.

Needless to say, I learned my lesson. The hard way. But, looking back, it wasn’t so bad! 

It was, after all, a chocolate cake!