Ah, dreams. So many books have been written about them. Poets have waxed, well, poetically about them. When I googled songs with “dream” in the title, the list was enormous. I was surprised at how many I knew. If you hear me humming Aerosmith or the Mamas and Papas today, you’ll know why. I dream every night and manage to remember a piece of them each morning. The really interesting/puzzling ones stay with me the longest. The rest just fade away as I sip my morning coffee.

Growing up, my mother and I would recount our dreams at the breakfast table while my father grew impatient. He swore that he never remembered his dreams. Interestingly, John doesn’t either. Whenever I begin a sentence with “I had the strangest dream”, he rolls his eyes and cuts me off. “Aren’t they all strange?”, he asks. So he’s not much of an audience for my nighttime travels. When a dream is really complicated, I do one of two things. I look up the symbolism on a dream interpretation website or I call my friend Nancy. She’s usually the most accurate. Often, I wish that I could recall them with perfect clarity and write them down. In reality, they probably make little sense and wouldn’t work as a literary piece. I have a series of “lost” dreams. I’m stuck somewhere, can’t find the exit, can’t read the directions. You get the general idea.

Since I have a birthday right around the corner, I’ve been mulling over if I’ve actually fulfilled any of my childhood dreams.  Very early on I decided that I wanted to be an author. It took a while (a long while) but that one is coming along nicely. Later on, I aspired to be an attorney or college professor. I did start law school but motherhood took precedence and I never got back to it.  Even though I started grad school, I was worried about the whole professor thing because it would require getting published. I was certain that I had no real talent writing. Silly me. Interestingly, even though I’m enjoying getting involved in community theater, a life on the stage was never on the list.  It always seemed so cut throat and I don’t believe that lifestyle would have suited me.

Certainly, there were different dreams as I grew up. These changed on a regular basis. So do the ones I have now. If anyone had told me 15 years ago that I would be so immersed in a creative life at my age, I would have laughed. Surely, no one starts writing, composing and such so late in life. Sometimes it’s hard work while at others, it’s a breeze. Most importantly, it’s fun and I love it. People read my words, sing my songs and perform my characters. What a rush! It’s a shame that I still have to work but food and shelter are necessities. Now if I can just figure out what that dream from last night about a bullet in my right foot was about…