The Red House

Dreams intrigue me.

My son, whose opinion I often seek, assures me that dreams mean nothing. He says, “When you’ve been thinking about certain things and then you sleep, these things come out in your subconscious and you see pictures – similar to watching a movie. They are in no way prophetic!”

I’m not sure I agree.

I’ve had many dreams that later materialized in some unusual way. For instance, as a child, I once had a vivid dream of myself riding a blue bicycle. There was no obvious reason for it. I already had a green bicycle and wasn’t yearning for a new one. Yet, a few days later, when my birthday came, my dad took me to a store and bought me a beautiful new bicycle. I was thrilled and rode the shiny, blue bike home.  Do Dreams Come True.

A couple of nights ago, I dreamed my daughter yelled at me from a neighbor’s house, “C’mon, let’s go see the red house.”

Although I’d just gotten out of bed, was still in pajamas and had not combed my hair, I hurried out to meet my daughter, just as I was, so we could go see this red house. When we arrived at the house, we found Mr. H sitting on a bench talking with a man who lives nearby. They didn’t seem surprised to see us, but got up and followed us into the house.

This red house had been staged beautifully! I was mesmerized! From one room to another I ran, taking in every detail of the furniture and the house itself. There were many people looking at the house and no one seemed to notice that I was in my PJs and looking so disheveled. (Odd)

I finally told Mr. H that I must have this house – furniture and all! With nary a blink, he said, “Okay.” I was thrilled! Until daughter spoke up, “You can’t buy it. I already bought it.”

My heart sank and I started to cry like a child.

“You silly goose!” said my daughter, “I knew you’d like this red house so I bought it FOR you.”

I woke up laughing.

Wouldn't it be nice if this dream turned out like the one about the blue bicycle? 

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London Locks

Tonight I dreamed of London Locks, churning

waters within, of sloping green banks enhancing

the spot,

where I whiled away hours with my best friend.

Like barefoot waifs, we wandered about

with nary a care to convey;
our summer fun came easy. We strolled,
We sang. We played.

Calliope’s tune, full August moon, ferris wheel
whirling at night, pink cotton candy so sticky          
and sweet,
what memorable delights!                               

Dreams are cruel, one must awake – tears
staining the face; ‘twas only a vision, I sadly
discern,
of another time--another place.

©2017 - peggy toney Horton

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Friends

 

Sherry and I have been phone friends, Facebook friends and Twitter friends for approximately ten years. We live about 15 miles apart but have never met! We've planned to meet for lunch a few times but something always happens that one of us can't make it. So we just continue to talk on the phone and share things on Facebook and Twitter.

I suppose if it's meant to be, we'll meet someday.

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One Day at a Time

"One day at a time--this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering.”

A Walk in the Rain

Once, when I was unusually stressed, my doctor said, “Peggy, do you ever take an early morning walk in the rain?” Rolling my eyes and scanning my memory, I said, “I used to – a long time ago.”

“Try it again,” he said. “It’ll do wonders for you.”

When I went out this morning to run an errand, the skies were gray and rain was falling softly. As I drove along, almost hypnotized by the windshield wipers, I thought about what the doc had said long-ago and about the walks in the rain that I had let go of so easily.  

Life got in the way of simple pleasures like that one.

Pulling over to the curb, I parked, rolled my window down and breathed deeply. The sweet fragrance of the morning rain brought back many memories and I knew instantly I had to take one of those walks I’d dismissed as something I didn’t have time for years ago.

Out of the car, I was at once a child again! I sauntered right through a couple of puddles, ignoring the fact that my feet were getting soaked and I closed my umbrella for a few minutes, looked upward and let the rain pepper my face.

It was wonderful!

By the time I got home, it was clearing and the sun was trying to peep through the clouds. I was almost disappointed!

As I put my purchases away, I smiled  – feeling like I had a beautiful secret!

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Mother’s Laughter

        My mother’s laughter was infectious – like a cheerful tune that lingers in your mind for the rest of the day. Like a yawn that starts a chain reaction causing everyone else in the room to yawn.

She laughed often. It didn’t take much to amuse her: the antics of a young child, a puppy or kitten tickled her funnybone causing her to laugh joyfully and everyone within hearing distance felt an urge to laugh with her.

They say we all have a talent. Although she had others, the ability to make people laugh was one of the most significant.

She was a good singer, too. It ran in her family. Her sister and three brothers all sang beautifully. Nothing pleased me more as a child than to be there when she and her siblings got together for a songfest or to hear her singing while she did her housework. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit her vocal chords. I was pretty sure of that fact from the get-go, but it was confirmed when I was once singing with the radio while doing my housework and my dog started barking at me. I loved to sing but the only place I dared was when I was alone in my car with all the windows up. I’d put my favorite CD on the player, turn the volumn up and sing to my heart’s content. Sometimes I’d take the long way home just so I could sing longer.  J

I loved my mother but we couldn’t have been more different. I used to wonder if she might possibly have taken the wrong baby home from the hospital until I learned that I was born at home.

Clobbered that theory!

I never liked the clothes she picked out for me either. How angry I used to get when she made me wear things I hated just because they suited her!

For example, she always made me wear a beret on Easter and other dress-up occasions. She was so skillful at matching the color of a beret to my dress or coat perfectly every time! And the way she pulled the tight bands of those things down on my forehead almost to my eyebrows made me feel like my head was in a straight jacket. In retrospect, I think I must have looked like a woman who arches her eyebrows too high, causing her to look surprised. I was convinced if I sneezed or coughed hard, the beret would go flying across the room and smack someone in the face. As soon as we were in the car heading home, I’d yank it off as fast as possible, leaving an itchy, red mark on my forehead for the rest of the day. When I was old enough to wear what I pleased, I never looked at another beret!  :)

Yes, we were different, and that made for some interesting times. As I grew up and struggled to be my own person, we had many heated arguments, but she usually won. My respect for her wouldn’t allow me to go very long without apologizing. To be completely honest, I feared her, too!

God doesn’t make mistakes! He gave me a strong will, and then blessed me with a mother who would temper it. Just as He uses adversity to refine us and make us stronger, my mother combined just the right mix of nurturing and discipline to shape my character.

She was everything a mother should be: loving, intelligent, beautiful – inside and out, God-fearing and more.

I miss her every day of my life. 

(the above picture is not me)

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Quote

“Like a dying ember, the child in us can flare up again when least expected."     ~Peggy Toney Horton