Thursday, January 21, 2010

Writing down a dream

I'd been thinking this blog would die, now that I have a real, full-time, editorial job. I thought I'd be burned out from writing in the office all day that all I'd want to do was veg with my husband and walk the dog in my spare time. But last night I dreamt the kind of dream that can't go unnoticed.

It was in Whitehorse and Nelson. On buses and in kitchens. With old friends and (perhaps) long-lost family members.

Whitehorse was the best. Goats roamed everywhere! Huge ones that you could ride -- and of course we did. I'd arrived by bus, and was only staying an afternoon, but as soon as I arrived I knew that was a mistake. The harbour was beautiful: a mish-mash of dinghy boats and house boats. The streets winded, every corner revealing a new colourful home. I wanted to live there, and I knew I'd return.

Next stop: Nelson. Aspen, the little girl I lived with in 1998 when I went to college in the beautiful mountain town, was all grown up. Of course, math never works in dreams and here she was more like my 10 year old niece than the 15 year old she would be now. But I hgged her, and she hugged back, and it was amazing.

Then there was the time my real-life niece, in that same Nelson kitchen, warmed up her baby brother on the stove. She didn't burn him, but I freaked, then mom freaked, and the dream ended on a sour note -- must have been waking up.

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