"And oh, my dreams, it's never quite as it seems"*

Dreams—both sleeping and waking—are funny things. I’ve always been a very vivid sleep dreamer. As a young child, I had a reoccurring nightmare that I was being chased by wolves. Eventually those nightmares gave way to ones in which I was stalked by dinosaurs. Then I had a period in which most of my nightmares were end-of-the-world scenarios.

Most recently I’ve been having dreams in which I am running late for some type of engagement (sometimes I’ve reverted back to my school days, other times I’m late for work) and I just can’t seem to get where I need to go. These don’t invoke the same fear as my wolf, dinosaur, or apocalyptic dreams, but a great deal of anxiety goes along with them.

I think these reoccurring dreams are a manifestation of anxieties or fears I am having in real life. The real-life fears have nothing to do with wolves or the end of the world, but this is how my brain interprets the fears and anxieties of my waking life in the dream world.

The nightmares, though, aren’t the hardest dreams. I wake up from nightmare with my heart racing and my body chilled from a cold sweat, but pretty soon I realize It was all just a dream. The hardest dreams are the ones about my dead little sister, Kylene (and forgive me here for displaying a little emotion…something I hate to do in any kind of public forum).

It’s not that these are scary dreams in which she’s coming back from the dead to haunt me or anything. No, they’re usually quite pleasant. Often we’re kids again, but sometimes I’m an adult (she was 16 when she died, so she is never really older than that in my dreams). We may be off on some adventure, but often we’re just hanging out.

(Here I am reading to Kylene when we were kids...I know, my hair is terrible and she's cute as a button!)

While I’m having these dreams, there’s always that little something niggling me in the back of my mind. That voice that’s saying Something isn’t right here. You know when you’re dreaming and you’re in a place you know in real life, like your house, but it doesn’t look like your real-life house, yet somehow you just know that it is your house. That’s the feeling I’m talking about.

Sometimes the revelation of what’s wrong comes to me while I’m dreaming, but the full meaning of it doesn’t hit me until I’m awake. And that something is that my sister is dead, and even if the dream felt completely real to me, I know it wasn’t because people don’t come back from the dead.

And that’s the hard part of these dreams: that moment when I realize It was all just a dream, that my sister really is dead, and she’s never coming back. For a split second, the raw emotions are all too real and even though it’s been almost nine years since she died, I feel like it’s only been minutes and I’m losing her all over again.

But it isn’t all bad because maybe sleep is a place where you can bridge the gap between life and death. Maybe she can come back to life, even if it’s only for a little while in my subconscious. Or maybe she really is coming to visit me in some spiritual form (a little far-fetched for my logical mind, but I suppose it’s possible). And you know what? Even if it was just a dream, I got to see my sister again and that’s worth all the pain of remembering she’s gone.

That’s the beauty of dreams: they open up a world of possibilities. Like black holes, we don’t know all that much about them. They’re one of life’s great mysteries. And I think that these dreams we have in sleep help fuel our dreams in life. I dream in sleep and I feel my sister is alive again. And I dream in the waking world to become a published writer, so that my sister can live again in a fictional world.
But waking dreams are a discussion for another post. What have you been dreaming of lately?

*The Cranberries

"You've finally got something to say"*

The infamous magnetic poetry kit has been quiet of late (maybe because the winter has caused me to be something of a recluse and I haven't invited anyone over lately). I'm hoping a new crop of words (a gift from my cousin) will spark the creativity of any future guests.

In the meantime, here's a few lines of magnetic poetry that have been hanging out on my refrigerator:

• beneath a translucent desire is fear genius & beauty (umm...I think I need more time to think about this one...it's very deep)
  
  
• black monkey chicken naked in the night (you always have to look out for the black monkey chicken...especially when it's naked)

• whisper bosom talk s sweet idea s of mind & shadow (and you should talk back to the whisper bosom with your trumpet bottom)

• take me (like all good poetry this is short and to the point, but at the same time it has multiple layers...and it's also what she said!)

• spring is like the sweet flower that time leave s behind (a little too cliched for me, but I can appreciate the sentiment)

Thanks to all who contributed. And if you're ever at my house, please take a few minutes to create your own piece of poetry.

*Toad the Wet Sprocket

"Say hello to your friends (Baby-sitter's Club)"*

My older sisters started reading the Baby-sitter's Club back in the '80s, and because I wanted to do everything my older sisters did, I was in second or third grade when I picked up book #1 Kristy's Great Idea.

At the beginning of every book, there was a portrait of each character. Now I would usually skip over this part, but there was one bit of information you had to stop and read: What outfit was artsy Claudia Kishi wearing? For example in BSC #2 Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls, Claudia (each book is told from the title-character's POV) describes her philosophy on fashion:

"I think clothes make a statement about about the person inside of them. Also, since you have to get dressed every day, why not at least make it fun? Traditional clothes look boring and are boring to put on. So I never wear them. I like bright clothes and big patterns and funny touches, such as earrings made from feathers. Maybe this is because I'm an artist. I don't know. Today, for instance, I'm wearing purple pants that stop just below my knees and are held up with suspenders, white tights with clocks on them, a purple-plaid shirt with a matching hat, my high-top sneakers, and lobster earrings. Clothes like these are my trademarks."

I wonder what statement Claudia was trying to make with white tights with clocks on them and lobster earrings, but it sure was fun to read about her clothes.

(Yup, I've got a whole shelf of BSC books!)

My favorite BSC member was probably Dawn Schafer (who didn't join the BSC until book #5). I'm not sure why. She was a laid-back, tofu-eating vegetarian from California who wasn't particularly athletic and was often described as an "individual." Growing up, I was a picky eater who would never dream of eating tofu, I loved to play sports, and I had a pretty fierce competitive edge. The only thing we really had in common was our blond hair and blue eyes. Maybe our lack of commonality was what I liked about her.

Needless to say I was tickled pink to read this article about where the BSC members would be now. I was not surprised at all to read that Kristy is a lesbian, that Stacey doesn't talk to any of the BSC members anymore, or that Dawn went off the deep end. I found it interesting that Mary Anne attended my alma mater Sacred Heart University and that Mallory and Jessi wrote a children's book. I was quite disappointed to learn of Logan's crime-ridden fate. He was the only boy BSC member...what is that supposed to say for boys who baby-sit?

Okay, now I totally have to go read one of the BSC books this weekend. I think I'll go for one of the Super Specials (which are told in multiple POVs), so I can get a glimpse into more than one of the BSC members' minds.

*Written by Glen Roven (it's amazing what you can find on IMDb)