Of late, my dreams are filled with strong emotions. Anger spilling over into sorrow. They are a collage of things and people I’ve known in my life. Bits and pieces of me.
I don’t know what my dreams are trying to tell me, if anything. But I feel like dreams send us a message of some sort. Like little seeds scattered in our brains.
It may be convoluted, but I feel that it is trying to convey something to me. And I can’t decipher the message.
“Yet it is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.” – Virginia Woolf
I remember watching the children in my class playing at recess, and wondering how to be one of them.
In some ways, other children were an aggravation. An irritant that assaulted me with their loud talking and screaming. They seemed so carefree and their play is so animated.
I didn’t know how to talk their talk, and didn’t live in their world. Instead I was outside looking in.
These memories are pieces of me. Pieces I don’t always feel fully connected to. Maybe they are just dust motes that drifted into my thoughts.
As a child, I watched my granny scatter seeds into dirt that miraculously grew up to be flowers. And seeing this happen year after year led me to believe that nature was solid and reassuring.
And that fact, the one thing I could logically depend on, made me a gardener.
I look at the sun shining down on the patio and watch the tulips swaying in the slight breeze through the patio door. And I feel reassured.
There is a certain measure of security, of calm serenity, in watching nature. The fact that the wheels keep turning. And the seasons, like clockwork, keep changing.
That in winter it will snow, and in spring it will rain. And as it does every year, April showers will bring May flowers.
Birds will build nests and watch over their eggs. And then move on when it is time to go.
I remember lying in bed at night, next to an open window that looked out over the back yard, where a slight breeze came through. Staring out into the darkness through tiny squares of screen.
I would hear a train in the distance rumble through the night. The faraway sound that goes clackety-clack as it rushes over the tracks.
The horn became a sad song that blew and blew. Until it passed on through. To places unknown.
I sow my seeds. Scatter them in the dirt.
And while I sleep, nature tells the seeds to grow into flowers. Season after season. Just like always.
“Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds that you plant.” – Robert Louise Stevenson
Beautifully written. I have dreams that haunt me too lately. Maybe it's something in the air.
I think your dreams are about redefining yourself in light of your diagnosis. Times that you thought you failed, were less than expected can now be seen in the perspective of very successful coping mechanisms that kept you true to yourself. As i've said before, I think you are one of the bravest people I
I guess the 3,000lb elephant in the room is why your highly educated psychiatry savy ex husband didn't make the Autism Spectrum diagnosis. Was it something he honestly didn't understand or was it something more sinister. Did he need you to be sick to
feel strong and to feed his need to have power over you? That person failed you in so many ways, Brenda. I'd better stop now,….
There's no such thing as 'typical', 'average' or 'normal' although experts would have us believe there is. We are all so complex and different from each other, I think it absurd to dare compare. And I wonder if typical, average, or normal or not just words used to describe those who are compliant, and lacking in individuality or creativity. You are not alone. We're all just trying to get through life the best we can. Some it really sucks. That's just how it is. But some of it is magical. I too have found tremendous solace in nature. I remember back when I was about 4 years old, lying on the warm concrete sidewalk in front of our little tract house. My mother had planted marigolds in a little flower bed leading to our front door. I lay there, flat on my stomach, cheek against the warm walkway. My eyes lever to the ground, I peered into the stems of the marigolds, into that dark, cool, tiny world where rolly-poley bugs and ants scurried about. For that moment, nothing else existed for me and I thought it was wonderful.
Beautiful, haunting, inspirational and striking- such a familiar note within myself.
Growing up in the farmland of Idaho just Mom, Dad and me, being so removed from the pieces of the world, has left me at my age perplexed and wondering. I feel comfort in knowing I am not alone.
Beautiful post and pictures.
The 'seeds' that you plant with your blog, help many of your readers.
Beautiful Brenda… I wish I could write like you 🙂
Dreams are funny things – I can usually figure out mine, but if not, I tell a friend who knows me well. Dreams are very interconnected with memories. Whatever is rolling around in your head as you fall asleep will likely make an appearance or a reference in your dream. Write then down if you remember them and ponder them while you sip coffee on the patio…Also, I am struck by the similarities between you and my mother. Hearing about how you think helps me understand her so much more.
Brenda, you paint pictures with your words. I felt like I was on the playground, at lunch & looking thru the screen…I even heard the train. To write like that is a gift. If I dream, most of the time I have no knowledge of it.
Beautifully written post, Brenda. So many things written here that I can relate to. I love nature, too, for that is where I feel most at peace.
I don't have many dreams that I remember. Not getting deep sleep for sure. I don't kniw what to make of yours. Maybe finding out medically what you have dealt with all these years, has stirred up memories. I felt I was right tgere with you though. Nature speaks to you for sure. Hugs
Brenda, I hope you learn what it is your dreams are trying to tell you. You are very perceptive. Gob bless you, dear one!
God, not Gob. Oops!
Fabulous imagery and prose, as always Brenda.
Very touching post. I love to read what you write.
You are a very talented writer as you know. I don't remember my dreams often, but I do remember a recurrent one where I am on one side of a very long and high fence, and I can't get to the other side. I also feel as through am watching others, as if not part of what I am watching. I love nature for it allows me to be completely free to be myself and a sense of peacefulness that is rarely achieved elsewhere.
What a poignant post, Brenda. One that touches and moves. I was always an outsider, too. Riding a bus in from the mountain area-down to the valley with the town kids. It's an odd feeling when you are a kid to look around and realize you don't belong.
I think a lot of us have bits and pieces of memory that poke us and puzzle us. Blessings to you– xo Diana
Lovely post, Brenda. Dreams are an interesting part of our lives, often stirring up emotions we aren't aware of. Gardening and decorating seem to bring you much solace. xo Laura
You really touched my heart Brenda with your sincere writing. I was there, sitting in the playground, not knowing how to join in. I was there not wanting to go back to school and not wanting to go home either. The dreams we have lived through do stay with us to haunt later in life, but we do try to conquer them as we get older (well, I try to say that to myself anyway). Take care.
We lived high on a hill out in the county..farm fields below in the front…woods etc in the back. And underneath all of that ran a train tunnel. I could hear the train again reading your post 🙂
The dreams that I DO remember I try to decipher using online dream dictionaries…used to have a book long ago / now I go online. Sometimes they are powerful enough to recall..usually an early morning dream, but generally I think that we forget and lose the majority of them.
You are certainly a writer! Very beautifully written.
Beautifully written. I don't see much about it, but there must be something that happens in our 50's…there is a tendency for us to look back over our life. Dreams are strange. I have tried to decipher some, and sometimes I do put some pieces together. I have a recurring dream of standing before a beautiful pool of clean water – the pool is never the same, sometimes its day, other times its night, and its in different locations, even indoors. The pool always looks so inviting, so comforting…yet, I never get in – the dream ends. I still can't figure it out.
Hi again Brenda – i thought of something funny ………….I'm always trying to eat healthy and avoid my favorite Italian desserts (cannolis) but i recently had a dream that I had eaten up cherry cheesecake (no one else in the house likes it) SO – i was so happy when i woke up and didnt actually do it! But i swear – it is so crazy how i felt full……………just like when you felt warm when it was cold (in the dream) OMGosh – dreams, right??
I love that gardening has been a safe place for you in your life. I've had so many dreams lately and they too seem filled with bits of pieces of my life. Strange how impending changes in life bring about memories in our dreams!
This is very beautiful.
I agree that you are a very talented writer, Brenda! I have always thought that you should write a book about your life – seriously!! Dreams are so interesting and such a mystery. I think many of us, especially those that crave calm and serenity, are drawn to nature for its peacefulness. It's a place to be alone with our thoughts and just be who we are – there is no judging in nature. And it helps us feel closer to something greater than ourselves. On a lighter note – I like your plants in the vintage suitcase – really cute!
You are an amazing author/writer even how you recap dreams! Nature is amazing … I just wish I had gardeners green thumb ! I thought of you yesterday when I went for a hair-cut. The stylist texturized and blends so my hair is short, but still a nice ladies haircut. On back she uses "3" blade. I had to cut my waist-length hair years ago-just after 40. I have thick Italian head of hair, but I have Addisons disease and needed something simple to care for. I donated my hair to locks-of-love. But like you – I love my simple hair ! And especially in the summer … You and the pups have a great Sunday ox
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