I love the night. When I am outside sitting around a fire with friends. Or when I am walking down a moonlit sandy road. Or sitting on the porch listening to the night sounds.
I don’t love the night when my dreams become tumultuous and full of drama. I did not post last evening. I went to bed very early again. I am battling the symptoms of the illness that plagues me. My dreams did not allow peaceful rest.
I have always dreamed in full action Technicolor and remember much of details and moods. Some dreams I never forget. They live in my memory as if they really happened. Sometimes a dream mood will stay with me after I awake. I have had dream moods stay with me for days.
I have learned to redirect dreams even while sleeping through them. I will awaken remembering how a dream was deteriorating into a nightmare and I had changed the scenes to avoid disaster. I don’t always have success, though. Last night, the dream deteriorated into chaos and panic. I woke myself to get out of the hysterical state I had entered.
I wake up still tired many mornings. Some would avoid sleep to avoid such problems. There is a good side to this. Many of my dreams are better than a movie. Adventure, beautiful scenery, even good drama. I love when I have those good dreams.
Recently, I had a clear and vivid dream of his mother. She has been gone from us many years, but in my dream I got a wonderful hug from her and could hear her voice and see her clearly.
It happens sometimes. Someone I love who has passed on will appear in my dreams. Clear and well and full of love. I will take the bad dreams if it means I will also have the good dreams. Dreams that become memories as surely as if they happened in life and not just in my mind.
I got to see the nieces this weekend. One was celebrating her fourth birthday. I did manage to catch her for a split second two or three times to steal a hug and kiss. The other delight was napping when I got there. I had to wait till Sleeping Beauty arose to get my hands on her. And, no, I did not put her down or share her with her other relations. I had a couple of hours to get a month’s worth of snuggles from the happiest baby on earth. She is quieter and happier than my daughter was at that age. That is saying volumes. Her great-gran and I decided she knew before she was born how loud the other household members are and figured quiet patience was going to be the best course of action!
I stopped by the hospital to see my cousin. She harangued again about my writing a book. (I hope she never stops!) I don’t have a story to tell. Well, I don’t know if I do or not. Certainly, I don’t envision my writing fictional work. I hardly read fiction. A good real life adventure story appeals to me vastly more than an imagined and improbable made up story. Although, I have read some fiction recently. I have a couple of new novels awaiting a lazy afternoon and a short wish list of a few more titles. Perhaps allowing myself to relax into such leisure will inspire me to put pen to paper and work out the anecdotes in my memory and notions floating in my mind.
One real reason I put off writing is the same reason I put off reading novels and watching movies. I don’t want my tender heart to ache from things not really happening. I fear writing will bring out all the carefully stored pain from the grief of losing my loved ones. Things from the past. Things not happening now. I despise feeling fear. I know I will eventually face the fear and beat it back into the hell from which it creeps. I will write the heart ache onto paper and if the tears don’t blur the ink too greatly, I will attempt to share it with the world. If the Lord allows.
Love is the only thing that heals all things. Time is given credit for love’s work. Time means nothing to some wounds. Time only passes. Love is the true healer. After the passage of time, love comes stealing into a wounded heart. Someone to love still holds fast. Someone new to love enters the scene. The wound is knit together with the bond of lasting love or a new love. Love is not only for lovers. It is for mothers and fathers, sons, daughters, and grandparents, brothers and sisters, cousins, nephews and nieces, uncles and aunts, and for friends. Death, disease, divorce. Destruction comes. But, love is greater. Love is the eternal choice.
Let me have a few someones to love, always. A baby in the mix is pure magic. But, I will take a near half century old feller who has held fast to me these many years for the daily dose of everyday magic. Love is what he and I have chosen for each other. The fear will be faced and the stories written with his courage and His peace to shore me up against the tears. Love is greater.