Dream

“She always had that about her, that look of otherness, of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts that wander off the edge of the world.” Joanne Harris

When I was five years old I held a stapler phone up to my ear and scribbled lines on a yellow notepad. My pudgy little kid feet rested on top of the desk and the stern brow which was given to me at birth pressed together in a very serious way. I was living out my five-year-old dream of being an entrepreneur; just like my father.

I’ve always been a dreamer, always will be. Sometimes Todd has to give me a nudge of his elbow when he realizes I have stopped listening to someone speak and have slipped into the wild world of my own imagination.

I’ve noticed throughout the years that my dreams change and evolve. Sometimes from day to day and sometimes from year to year. But they are there, developing, evolving and coming to full fruition. A couple months ago I dreamed of a wedding; now with only 44 days to go I dream of life after a wedding.

I dream of a cottage home in downtown phoenix with colorful walls and a bright kitchen. I want a labradoodle who strides home from the groomers with blue ribbons on her ears.

Saturday mornings will be spent at the Farmers market shopping for fresh vegetables and fruit.  Saturday afternoons we will lounge in our sun room reading books. Maybe we will even join a book club. Or maybe I will continue on and get a Masters in English Literature.

In the evenings when Todd returns home from work we will walk our labradoodle alongside our stroller through the tree lined streets we call our neighborhood.

And when our babies grow they will have deep brown eyes rimmed in glasses, with freckled noses and mismatched clothes. They will run wild and free in our big backyard while I bake goodies in the kitchen.

Todd and I will age with class. The sun room we once used for reading will be full of paintings and writings we published and displayed in our older years. Our grandchildren will play in this room when they come to visit us for Sunday lunch.

These are the dreams I dream while I sit in my office with four walls, one window and a large brown desk.  They are not reality, even I know that. But isn’t it fun, sometimes, just to dream?