A Sweet Dream

I’ll say right up front this is a “G-rated” story.  In ancient times, people regarded dreams as omens or as prophesy.  I tend to see dreams as a waste-product of the mind or as a coded message from the subconscious.  I very rarely remember my dreams.  I will be in the middle of a dream and when I wake up, it vanishes from my mind like a puff of smoke. If I remember a dream, usually it’s about something that has been weighing heavily on my mind. 

A very happy exception to this trend took place earlier this year while I was in Mongolia.  In the dream I saw my friend, Barbara, and she was standing in the doorway of a house (1844 Wyandot Road) that was located exactly 3 doors south at 1868 Wyandot Road.  Barbara was standing in the doorway of the house.  There was snow on the ground and Barbara was smiling as she almost always is in real life.  When I woke up, I thought to myself, “What the heck does that mean?” Barbara will probably be quite mystified and amused to hear about that dream since she grew up in Pennsylvania, grew up in California and has never been in Ohio in her entire life. After a while, an interpretation occurred to me that makes sense:  Barbara has been a friend for many years and, even though she lives 3 times zones west, when I talk to her it’s like catching up with a next door neighbor.  She lives a couple of thousand miles away, but she might as well be a few houses over. Since then, I’ve often wished I could find the reset button on my pillow so I could just have nice “G-rated” dream about my good friend Barbara.