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Blonde on the Prairie... The places I go |
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Friday, 06 July 2007 |
The older I get the more I realize I must have 8 hours of sleep to make it through my day. This fact is tested by the recent discovery that my husband snores. I apparently cover his nasal blubbering by dreaming away my nights.
That husband of mine is a busy kind of fella. Sitting still isn’t really of him. Our marriage, just like your marriage, is something that takes constant work and understanding. There isn’t much that we’ve perfected in ours other than the fact we make exquisite companions. We may not agree on how often a haircut is necessary. We certainly don’t agree on how many cans of corn are appropriate to eat in one sitting and we’ll never agree on how important it is to tighten ones lug nuts when putting on a spare tire. The one idea we have managed to perfect in our 4 years together is that it’s important to take get-a-way trips to keep your sense of daily balance. He calls it balance. I call it my sanity. Whatever we call it we do it well together.
We jump in whatever vehicle we own with the least amount of mice in it and head off to peculiar places. Once a year we take a real vacation to someplace further than the tri-state region.
We’ve experienced the magnificent wonders of small town America in Utah, Nevada, New Mexico and Kansas to name a few. Some very magical things have happened to us in some of those small town places. However, none of those places can compare to the places I go when I go to bed.
I’ve heard it more than 20 times in my life that I have a very vivid imagination. I used to fight that diagnosis until I realized how much fun falling asleep can be. I’d like to announce my findings in some medical (or psychiatric) journal in regards to the fact I know I dream in color. How else would I have known that when I visited the tomb of the oversized, white mummy that he had purple eyes? I don’t know too many blondes who live on the prairie that get to visit ancient tombs while being carried to the top of the black and red Jamestown water tower by a mummy in love.
On more than one occasion I’ve used my own arms to fly to a very green field. It’s one of the most favorite places I go when I go to bed. It’s the field where the giant bugs live. The bugs are the size of basketballs but have full smiles on their faces and eyes that spill kindness like that husband of mine spills bleach on my carpeting. The difference is that Husband tries to hide his mess while the giant bees do everything in their power to let me know they’re friendly. The giant bees are my favorite of the giant, friendly bugs I see when I sleep to slumber.
My favorite place I’ve ever been while sleeping was at a smoky piano bar after my mother died. It was during the era of the 1940’s. I could tell by the zoot suits Bing Crosby, Cab Calloway and Frank Sinatra were wearing while sitting next to me. I was wearing a black, fitted wool skirt with matching jacket. I had a wide brimmed hat on that was tilted at an angle over my right eye. I peeked up to the man playing the grand piano in the smoky bar. On top of the piano sat my mother looking more beautiful than I’d ever remembered her. She was the vocalist and Frank Sinatra was clapping for her. She wasn’t only alive. She was well.
The places I go when I go to bed are reminders to me that none of my dreams are impossible. All you need to succeed is a husband who doesn’t snore and a very vivid imagination.
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 20 December 2007 )
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