Comments

  1. Lee Xanthippe says

    Some days I dream and sometimes, I am grounded, floored by the realities. I simply wish for these good good dads in my life and in my best people’s lives to be well, for their hearts to beat well and continue to beat well, for their lungs to clear. I long simply for recovery, for life, for more good life.
    I’ve heard that no one’s an atheist in the foxhole. I’m not sure anyone’s an atheist in the hospital either–when one really needs the hospital. I, ordinarily atheistic, send my words and prayers to whoever and whatever will listen and consider us kindly…
    (No need to reply to this as a piece of writing, this is rather a personal petition to ________) I am not picky at who or what can go into that blank spot. I will take what I can get…and be grateful for whatever help will be offered.

    • Karla says

      It seems to me that part of your point here is that dreaming is a luxury, possible only if the basics of life are secure– such as the people in your life are healthy, not in danger. Insightful and rather profound, and hopeful. In that way, it seems like a dream is not that much different than faith. Maybe it’s a paradox. Anyway, I know you said that there was no “need” to respond here, but I wanted to anyway.

      • Lee Xanthippe says

        Thank you much, Karla for your thoughts as well…I never related a dream to faith, but that makes much sense…thanks…

    • Hazel says

      Lee,
      I really liked your opening statement, “Some days I dream and sometimes, I am grounded, floored by the realities.” This is truth, the way it is, it has nothing to do with faith. Webster says that a dream is, “a visionary creation of imagination” a what if presented in visual form as it were. So I would say that dreaming and wishing are sort of related because wish, “a desire that a person or thing to be as specified.” Reality is neither one and be harsh, cold, painful, and/or cruel; but can also be good, rewarding, satisfying. It would seem that one may need a lot of faith to stay very long in reality. Maybe?

      Thank you for sharing this provocative little bit of writing. Interesting.

    • Ilana says

      Lee- What a bright and hopeful thought. I have also heard that there are no atheists in foxholes but it was always said with disdain. I like the idea of a God, or higher being, who does not need us to believe but simply to be good people. I hope your prayers are answered. Wishing you well, Ilana

      • Sheila McGinley says

        Sometimes I too am grounded. Floored by realities. Perhaps we can stretch out there on the floor and together find the sky.

        • Lee Xanthippe says

          Thanks for the sweet thoughts…
          Sometimes reality goes on despite the prettiest words I can muster. I want my words to change reality–they can’t always do that, unfortunately.

    • Terry Gibson says

      Lee, these words speak to me so well. “I long simply for recovery, for life, for more good life.” Such lovely thoughts and wishes. They are mine as well. Thanks for sharing them.

  2. Shelley Bluejay Pierce says

    I dream the path ahead for my life in the formations of the stars I stare at from this high mountain ridge in the Rocky Mountains. We have the darkest skies, not polluted by local city lights, and stars appear closer and more personal. In the brief moments between the still of night and the rising sun, the stars hang like decorations across the black sky. The ridge line of pine trees poke upward as if straining to reach the twinkling lights above them. I wonder if the trees are able, in their own unique way, to appreciate the splendor of the galaxies above them and revel in the changing of light just as I do.

    • says

      Shelley, welcome to the Roadmap blog. Thanks for sharing your love for the beauty of the Rockies. I loved the image of the stars hanging like decorations in the black sky–and your musing about the trees and what they think. I hope to see your words up here again–and often.

    • Karla says

      There are dark skies in the Sierra Nevada’s, too, where my family camped while I was a child, and at the cabin that I stay in now with my own family during the summers. You’ve very perfectly captured the interconnections between the trees, stars, and the galaxies. It was very enjoyable to read and thank you for sharing.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      Beautiful and well-detailed and purposeful image! I love the straining trees, the naming of the location, wondering of the trees–if they too appreciate, the darkest skies…thank you for this image!

    • Hazel says

      Shelly,
      Your description of your dream path is so delicious in its crispness.

      Trees often dance in the wind perhaps it is because, “the trees are able, in their own unique way, to appreciate the splendor of the galaxies above them and revel in the changing of light just as I do.”

      Thank you for sharing.

  3. Karla says

    I am a toddler in my dreams, crusted in the fantasy of becoming a writer instead of soggy crackers. Toddling around on chubby feet, I meander-dash from spot to spot (the memories inside my head), rarely staying focused long enough to complete anything I start. I pull out my cubbies neatly packed with shiny toys—the noisemakers, the stacking rings, the light-up bus with sesame street characters that speak up when I toggle them. The rings look great piled around Big Bird’s neck and the xylophone sounds great when I bang it upside down on the floor. I know that I should put my toys away when I am done, but I spy the gnawed binding of Green Eggs and Ham on the shelf across the room. I promise that I’ll read it only one time.

    In my dreams, I don’t have to go to preschool to learn how to be a line leader or take my turn. My days will be filled with exploring all the objects I’ve forgotten that I had, that rightfully belong to me, that are dusty and rusty and gritty. I will become more proficient, more mature, more creative, in how I use them, and in what I reveal. I will learn to play well with others. I will see the value of completion. I would continue on, but I’m late for a time out. Before I go, I reach into the itchy neckline of my t-shirt, pull out a barely chewed cracker, and offer it to you.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      Love this piece from the get-go–the rich language of crust and sog, the toys’ description…I love “I will see the value of completion” and the offering of the cracker…seems complete to me! Thanks for taking me deeply and quickly into another world, both unique and familiar!

    • Laura Davis says

      I loved the freedom of the toddler in this piece–and the lovely evocative details–the barely chewed cracked, the itchy neckline, the chewed on book. Lovely, Karla.

    • Hazel says

      Karla,
      We all know what a kid you are, sitting there on your ball; rolling around; wiggling your toes. You have skillfully set yourself in a childhood time, ” Toddling around on chubby feet.” ” My days will be filled with exploring all the objects I’ve forgotten that I had, that rightfully belong to me, that are dusty and rusty and gritty.” I was wishing you would stay here but was delighted when you, “reach into the itchy neckline of my t-shirt, pull out a barely chewed cracker, and offer it to you.” I will take a small bite of your barely chewed cracker, and give the rest back to you, because we are friends.

      Thank you for sharing. Loved it.

      • Cissy says

        This was so enjoyable and the images of the rings around Big Bird’s neck. So great. And the cracker from inside the shirt handed out. Awesome!

    • Ilana says

      How sweet. Thank you for this minute trip back into the innocence of childhood. I think I’ll accept your cracker as only a child who knows no fear of germs can do. :) Ilana

    • Sheila McGinley says

      I loved this. I went there immediately and thought of the birdhouse I built in some class somewhere at age 5. I want to build a birdhouse again, and sink my hands in clay. Thank you.

  4. Barbara Keller says

    My dreams change. And there are levels. On the grand scale, the prophet looking man on the mountain speaking through a megaphone says: I want God’s will for my life. I want to serve Him, and be useful and bring the truth of the bible and salvation through Christ’s death on the cross to anyone who’s interested.

    On a smaller scale, decorative glass figurines of the things I love and would like to do line up on the baby grand piano of my childhood piano lessons, representing the everyday dreams of my life.

    For instance, a sewing machine, to remind me that I really love to design and sew, especially little girl clothes.

    And a computer so I remember to write. At this particular moment, I’m writing a teen, Christian, adventure, time travel novel. I like it so that’s a start. This dream is to keep writing and finish it, instead of drifting off to some other dream or just taking a nap instead.

    Recently I took the china horse off the piano display. Always, since infancy, I wanted a horse. A few months ago I made a connection with a man and a horse, 18 months old Sandy, large, chestnut colored, (the horse, not the man). The man, David, offered to give me the horse to raise for free. He brought the horse over for a couple of play dates, and I was very excited, with plans to build a small barn and put up fencing. Then the horse bit me, and I re-thought the whole thing. I don’t go out in the sun in the summer because I get skin cancer. I can’t shovel poop, and I haven’t got the time or energy to train a head-strong young, male horse, let alone ever ride him. So that dream died an easy, if long over due death.

    There’s a baby shoe to represent my 5 grandchildren who I love but don’t know very well because they live 2000 miles away and my son-in-law is very private. He prefers me not in their house or even in their town. I’m not happy about it, but it’s OK. It’s his life and his time, and I’m good here.

    There’s a photo of a young man living in China who emails me since we chatted at the beach here in Baja, and one of another young man from Israel I met in the Walmart parking lot last year. I have a tiny dream that I might go visit them, see the world and say hi.

    There are other figurines, some a little dusty, sitting on the almost black surface of the old piano in my memory. I’m glad to see them. They aren’t any trouble. They don’t make any demands. They are the pleasant decorations of my inner life.

    • Laura Davis says

      Barbara, I love how much meaning all these objects hold for you. In general, I love giving prompts about objects–I find that people can often access such deep memories and feelings through writing about their things–sometimes more accessibly than when they try to write about the emotions directly.

    • Karla says

      These figurines seem like a version of a brain scan of your inner life– things dreamed about, things remembered. I particularly enjoyed the story of the horse, it reminded me of the truism– be careful what you wish for. There was also a leisurely-ness in the way you moved from one thing to another, it was also evocative of a scan of your environment– I loved seeing where things were placed as well as what they meant. Thanks you!

    • Hazel says

      Barbara,
      Little things are big reminders and/or reminders of big things. Thank you for verification.

      I loved how the little things that contained the memories were lined up on the big thing, the piano, that was also a memory from your childhood.

      Very nice,
      Thank you for sharing.

      • Cissy says

        I love the range of men from son-in-law, to the ones in the photos you might visit, to the man who brought the horse and how they came to life in your writing. Also, the contrast to the reality of the horse. vs. the dream of the horse.

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      What a great way to touch upon dreams–I felt pulled in to the horse dream which changed at the biting point and then brought those other thoughts up…great writing–the specific detailed objects and associations…and those men, known or less known, and I felt the faraway feeling of family at the same time I felt these other people drawn into the story. Thank you!
      “Figurines” is a good word…

    • Ilana says

      I loved how each figurine not only had as story but I got to read each one. What a great little treasure chest of jewels. Thank you for sharing it, Ilana

  5. Hazel says

    When I was ten years old I was very excited that my best friend Roberta and I were going to the YMCA camp for girls at Silver Creek Falls, in the Silverton Hills just East of Salem, Oregon. My friend and I packed and unpacked our suitcases many times in the two weeks before the date we would go off to camp. We got together first at her house then at mine, back and forth, we made lists of things we had in our suitcase: sox; underpants; a sweater; pants to wear if it was cold, shorts if it was hot; blouses that were kind of nice but wouldn’t matter too much if they got very dirty; and an extra pair of shoes just in case one pair got wet or muddy; a hair brush and comb, and clips to keep the hair out of our eyes, we had matching butterfly clips which was very good when you are friends and ten years old; and a swimsuit for playing in the water. Finally the day came when we were to leave, Roberta’s father was going to take us. But the night before my dad sat me down at the kitchen table and said, “I have a surprise for you” he pulled a box out from under the table where it had been on his lap. It was a Kodak Brownie camera. He very carefully showed me how it worked and how to change the film. I was amazed. That summer I recorded everything I did, that my family did, that my friends did, until they were all sick of having their pictures taken. Then, I turned to my dog, my rabbits, squirrels and frogs.

    I only told you that to show you how deep the seed of photography is planted in my being. I have had many cameras over the years but the one I really liked the most is a Minolta 7000i. I was just really in the middle of learning what some of the features were and practicing photographing minutia when work got in the way, then one thing and another until when I became retired and wanted once again to start really photographing things, 35mm film was very expensive as is the developing. My husband bought me a lovely little Canon Power Shot A95 digital camera with a small zoom lens and it will also take macro (small stuff/closeup) shots. I loved the concept of being able to just download my pictures immediately and print them if I wanted but deep down I have yearned for my lovely Minolta. I have so many different lenses for it and I hate to give them up or just let them waste away in their protective bags.

    Last week I decided to go online and see if I could find anything that would match up. To my delight I found a Konica-Minolta camera body that is the digital equivalent of the 35mm that I have. I bit the bullet and bought it, not really knowing if it was truly going to work, but there are no camera shops anywhere near where I live where I can verify my information. It came; I tentatively opened the box; the prize was wrapped in many turns of bubble wrap and I was so careful unwrapping it. All the time my husband is standing at my elbow saying, “will it fit? Will it fit?”

    “I don’t know if it will fit. Go to my studio and get the camera bag down off the shelf and bring it here for me, please.” He brought it back. I pulled the camera out; disengaged the lens that was on it; carefully lined up the red dots and screwed the lens onto the digital camera body. “YES!” it all worked together. I had to wait for a couple of hours for the batteries to charge before I could even try it out. The digital has a few more things to control on it than the 35mm did but I am thinking “I can learn how to drive this baby in no time at all.”

    I took the old camera body and put it along with some old film into a drawer where it will remain safe and clean, thanked it for its good service and closed the drawer. Closed another chapter in the book of “Changing Times.”

    I took the digital camera to my photography class where the instructor was waiting to look at it with me. He was so excited as he picked it up, felt its balance, while I was trying to get my jacket off he was asking me for the book. We sat together going over the functions and he kept saying, “Oh, that is very good – yes, here is you f-stop control – here is your shutter speed – Oh, this is a really good camera and it is ‘vintage’ you know.” So the USB cable is sitting at the post office and I must now go and pick it up so I can download all those pictures I took yesterday of the wild turkeys that wander around the center of Fruitland, New Mexico; the post office, the old trading post/now farm, and the convenience store/gas station with the one traffic light at the crossroads.

    A dream come true for sure!

    • Laura Davis says

      Thank you for sharing your joy in your lifelong passion. I loved the scene with your father. What a gift your parents gave you!

      I also loved this line, “we had matching butterfly clips which was very good when you are friends and ten years old,” which so captured the essence of 10 year old friends. It really made me smile.

      Enjoy your new camera. You deserve it. I’m sure you’ll do it justice in no time.

    • Karla says

      This was just so achingly beautiful, and I loved hearing about the genesis of your interest in taking pictures. This line particularly moved me:

      “That summer I recorded everything I did, that my family did, that my friends did, until they were all sick of having their pictures taken. Then, I turned to my dog, my rabbits, squirrels and frogs.”

      I see in the 10 year old Hazel the same kind of zest for learning; quest for understanding as I see in the 70something Hazel now. And I think I know what I see in your photography that seems so lovingly whimsical– it’s THAT 10 year old Hazel.

      Totally awesome, and thank you for sharing.

      • Lee Xanthippe says

        Mmm, yes, I enjoyed this journey from Brownie to 35 mm to hybrid and also the unstated metaphor of combining the best of both worlds, of taking chances and of the joy of fitting–the camera parts of the love of cameras and photography fitting a person…love the chronological way this unfolds.

        • Jaqui Jacobs says

          The shutter on your camera is not your only open window. Your heart opens and the cool breezes of your words, thoughts and ideas blow through to those of us lucky enough to hear. Loved this piece – a true glance at our Hazel and her love. Thanks, Lady.

    • Hazel says

      Thank you all for your comments. I was wishing as I wrote this that I could share some pictures with you and then I realize that I am supposed to be making “word pictures” here. Duh!

      I tried.

  6. Connie says

    When I dream, spindly little mosquito-bitten, Calamine-lotioned legs run wildly carefree in the rays of days filled with sunshine, looking for the next best butterfly. But then I catch my image in the mirror and realize that the dark-haired little girl is a woman now—with grown children of her own.

    And the dream changes, as all dreams do– a gift, of sorts.

    Instead, I choose to dream of having the right words to impart the bits and pieces of wisdom I’ve collected and tucked away in the corners of my mind. I dream of climbing the rugged mountains that lay ahead of me with grace. I dream of reaching the inevitable horizon with dignity– and I dream of traveling the road that leads to both with passion.

    There’s something very comforting in knowing that, if we let them, dreams continue to guide us throughout our journey. I’ve decided the steps we take are the only things that can alter their course.

    Sometimes it’s simply a matter of knowing which dreams to dream. The broken little girl never really ran wildly carefree, anyway. It took years to remove her shackles.

    Now is better.

    It’s simply a matter of dreaming the right dream~

    • says

      Dear Connie, Welcome to the Roadmap blog–I loved the relationship you have to your dreams. And I loved these lines, “The broken little girl never really ran wildly carefree, anyway. It took years to remove her shackles. Now is better.” Can’t wait to read more of your work. I hope you keep coming back.

      • Ilana says

        I agree with Laura, those lines really touched me. The whole time I was learning from you, appreciating the lessons you were sharing but when I read those last two lines I thought, “Oh, she gets me. She’s like me. And look where she has taken it. There is hope for me. Thank you for that! Ilana

    • Lee Xanthippe says

      I love the phrases “I choose to dream…” and the powerful phrase Laura mentioned and the story that is touched on by those words but not made an more specific than that…and I also like the concept of “It’s simply a matter of dreaming the right dream.” Thanks for your writing!

    • Hazel says

      Yes, “I choose to dream . . . it is simply a matter of dreaming the right dream.” And so it is.

      Thank you for sharing. Very nice writing.

  7. Alyssa Johnson says

    I dream of a community of friends and family who see me for who I am and who love me because of who I am. I long to step into my true power and embrace the Divine within me. I dream of a planet where all species are revered and treated with love and respect. I dream of the awakening of all humans and a deep understanding that we are all connected. I long for my Divine Partner – a man who loves me, supports me and helps me grow. I dream of a deep love that pushes my boundaries, makes me face my darkness, and helps me return to the light. And I dream of falling in love with myself; honoring my gifts, my talents, my skills. I dream of being completely and totally enamored with myself and knowing that I can do no wrong and that I am perfectly prepared for my Purpose.

  8. Mary Lasher says

    Two years ago my partner, Dana, had to be in Denver for an extended amount of time. The company she works for arranged an apartment for her in the heart of downtown. It was on the 11th floor of a high rise with beautiful views of the city as well as the Rocky Mountains in the distance. It was wonderfully furnished with updated appliances and the conveniences of home. I was on an extended leave from my job and took advantage of the time off and spent six weeks in Denver to be with Dana. It was a mini relocation of sorts. And I immediately fell in love with the city. I embraced the city and the city embraced me. I spent many hours walking and exploring and magically I was a part of the city’s heartbeat. At the end of the day I stared out the window watching the Rockies turn different shades of pinks and purples as the sun set and the city lights came on. I felt at home. I felt alive.

    Since that time I have dreamed about Denver often while I wander around my big house, it’s rooms empty because my boys have their own lives now. I miss the people I met. I miss walking the streets as I struggle with driving in my community from one shopping center to another feeling like I’m missing out on whats going on around me because I’m confined in my car. I miss being a part of it’s heartbeat. I dream of it’s sunsets wondering what palette of colors will be brushed on the Rockies tonight.

    I have loved the town I’ve lived in for the past twenty-five years. Twenty five years of raising children, cultivating friendships and being a part of the community. A suburban community far different from urban life. A community that has served me well. Yet I constantly yearn for Denver.

    Dana shares the same dream I have. A month ago she asked me if I’d like to make that dream come true. I instantly burst into tears of gratitude. Yes, I said. Yes, I do want to make that dream come true. We are both ready to downsize in order to grow. To continue our lives in a place that calls to us in this time of our lives. To a city that I felt so much at home in. We have a lot to do still before we can call Denver our home. Months maybe a couple of years to get our affairs to make such a move. And in the meantime I get to keep dreaming of a place I might call home someday.

    • says

      Mary, I lived in Denver once….and have family there now. It’s such a great city–and a wonderful hub for culture. What I remember most about Denver is the amazing skies, the spectacular weather and the unseasonably warm days in the middle of winter. How wonderful to have a dream to work toward.

    • Karla says

      I spent a week in Denver several years ago, and your description of your time there brought me right back into it, and recalling how much I loved it. It is a great city, and I hope your dream of living there with Dana comes true soon.

      • Jaqui Jacobs says

        I grew up in Denver and my late husband’s family is still there. I rode the ski train in Jr. High, danced at Elitch Gardens as a teen, attended St. John’s Cathedral and was confirmed there, rode my bike in Congress Park on Christmas day and looked out my window every night at the bright red Conoco sign which I came to believe was mine. Denver gave me wonders to grow up with. Do something every day that will lead you toward your dream – put something in a box, make a space for a huge garage sale and fill that space, plan for new linens/shower curtain and kitchen colors .. see it in your minds eye and the time will fly by and before long the return address on your Christmas cards will read: Mary & Dana, Denver, Colorado

    • Ilana says

      Mary- I love how you describe the city, how you were part of the city’s heartbeat. It is dazzling and beautiful but it takes an appreciation like yours to truly enjoy it. I hope your dream comes true. And if it does, look me up so that we can enjoy the city together. Best, Ilana

  9. MaryL says

    Today’s Writing Prompt:
    Tell me about your dreams. Let them live on the page. Admit what you long for.

    One of my dreams is to live in and run a little retreat house for tired/overworked caregivers – from pastors to rabbis to nurses to physicians. I’ve been in burnout in the past, and there was little in the way of healing out there. Since caregivers are nurturing people (hopefully), they are often so intensely helpful to others that they neglect their own mental and physical health.

    Another of my dreams is to be in a cozy room with a fireplace going, and be surrounded by my adult children. This is a difficult dream to hold onto because my two older children have not been in contact for about twenty years. It was all a brainwashing by their father, and I was the identified scapegoat. One of my children is in contact and though the relationship is sometimes challenging, there is a trust and respect there which I cherish. How would this happen without a referee? I don’t know. I need to be honest, so no subterfuge can be part of the inviting and the gathering.

    Another dream, which is quite do-able is to write another big book. So many topics are running through my mind and heart, but I need to focus. I plan to be open to the universe, to pay attention to what is calling me, and to respond honestly, freely, and beautifully. I haven’t written a book for over five years; I write short pieces, and I have started quite a few possible pieces, but nothing as come together yet.

    My most cherished dream is to know that I am loved, to feel this, to be sure of this. I wonder if I’ll ever have an intimate relationship again. I do have wonderful friends, but this is not enough. I am a juicy, creative, passionate woman, and I give love freely …. Except that I too often become enmeshed in dramas and then have to pull back. These times I feel used; people do use you, if they are abusive, and though I’ve entertained many an abuser in my life, I am not convinced that 1. I know the signs; 2. I am safe and will be safe; 3. I can say NO and back away. I have learned, for example, that when someone wants an answer RIGHT AWAY, that’s a red flag for me. I’m reflective, and I need time and space of my own to sit with big questions.

    I want to return to Southern Italy and revisit my cousins, and enjoy the presence of the magnificent Adriatic Sea. I want to be healthy and strong, able to walk for hours and willing to get very tired and do it anyway.

    In my night dreams, I am often lost, confused, afraid, repeating old stories, again and again. My real dreams are not in my sleep …. They are in my hands, in my heart, and surely, in reach.

    • Terilynn says

      I like your dream of the caregiver retreat! It’s hard enough to find support groups. How many times have I felt burned out doing exactly what I love most? It is incongruous, yet it does happen.

      I like the way you dream – these are simple, yet could actually be attained. You strike me as one who will actualize… You go Girl!

    • Hazel says

      MaryL,
      Thank you for sharing your dreams. I want to say “good luck” but it is not a matter of chance that makes dreams come true, a lot of work and thought go into them so I will say “may your dreams be fruitful and multiply.”

      This is a very well written piece of writing and enjoyable to read.
      Thank you for sharing.

    • Karla says

      I enjoyed the entire piece, but I especially liked your closing paragraph, with the juxtaposition of how night dreams are different than real dreams.

    • Ilana says

      MaryL- I really enjoyed how you entertain dreams of different possibilities of coming true. That spoke to freedom, the right to dream whatever we want, no matter what. I also loved the end, “My real dreams are not in my sleep …. They are in my hands, in my heart, and surely, in reach.” Thank you for sharing this. Ilana

  10. Terilynn says

    My biggest dream now seems to be getting my words in print. I’m getting too old to wrestle 150 pound dogs, but I can tell their stories. I am working on a collection of cat stories, since these are my main area of interest. Instead of dispensing care to the few, I might enlighten the many.

    I am starting to submit individual stories to publications seeking stories. I just got a rejection notice this week! I celebrated it. Your ship will never come in if you never send one or two out first.

    I’m surprised I’m not more disappointed. I have three more floating out there and I forget where I sent them. It doesn’t matter. I’m just starting to make my presence known. Yes, I want to be published creatively, as opposed to technically. I trust it will happen with the right fit, and probably when I least expect it.

    Just as we can’t really predict the tides, the effects of the weather or the next rain, it’s a bit nutty to obsess over that for which we have no control. As such, I dispatch my ships, one by one.

    • says

      Terilyn, thanks for sharing your very positive and appropriate attitude about sending your work out into the world. You have to send it and let it go. I’m glad you celebrated your rejection letter. I met one writer who had wallpapered her bathroom with them. So you might want to start collecting them…

    • Karla says

      In my writer’s group, we applaud every time someone announces they’ve received a rejection letter/note/card. It takes courage to dispatch your ships out into the world, and thanks for sharing that you do and how you think about it.

    • Ilana says

      Terrilynn- I love the picture you drew, the analogy. Someday I will send out my ships as well. More power to you! Thanks for the hope your words sent to me. Ilana

  11. Wendy says

    I dream of holding a book in my hands with my name on it.
    I dream of talking to family members and hearing their stories and learning more about what happened before me.
    I dream of hanging around many more cats with exotic and whimsical names. One needs to be a tuxedo cat named Felix.
    I dream of playing the ukelele.
    I dream of having the time and the permission to dig deep into music.
    I dream of living without pain.
    I dream of relaxing.
    I dream of feeling comfortable with my needs met.

  12. Fran Stekoll says

    I dream , oh boy do I dream. I’m a hopeless romantic. It’s hard to make my dreams turn into realities. There are days when the intention is so strong to fulfill my dream of publishing “Wisdombumps.” I’ve written several verses of insight and awareness that I feel everyone can relate to, and when I share these with others the response is, “Where can I get a copy?” I get encouraged yet I cannot seem to follow through. I’m not computer literate at 79 years young and have been told to blog. Not sure how this works.

    I’ve been other-directed lately with my diagnosis of breast cancer, trying to heal myself with the Gerston method; but that’s no excuse. These verses have been waiting to be shared since 1968 and I’ve written current ones
    dealing with all of life’s challenges.

    I dream that before I leave this earth, someone will present themselves to me who can guide me into fulfilling my dream.

    • Jaqui Jacobs says

      Oh Fran,

      Each day scurries past and we leave so much undone – so much behind. Don’t let your “Wisdombumps” suffer that fate. Run an ad in the paper, call the local college or jr. college – surely there would be a computer queen who would gladly work with you for a recognition in the final product. You have a gift waiting to be given to all of us. Mail a rough manuscript to one of us and let us type it for you. The power of choice is yours – there is a way.

    • says

      You don’t have to blog to self-publish your book. Start by getting someone to help you lay it out and publish it yourself and then start distributing to your friends and your network. Do that for you. You’re not trying to create a best-seller here (not that you can control that either). Just get your words out there. You’ll be so proud and glad you did. I like the idea of getting a computer-savvy UCSC student to help you. How about a grandchild?

    • Ilana says

      Good luck to you, Fran, in all your dreams. I wish you healing and health. So many people will enjoy your work. I know because I already do. Keep on keepin’ on! Ilana

  13. Jaqui Jacobs says

    Tell you about my Dreams ….

    It is Thursday and I have been thinking about what my dreams might be since Tuesday when the prompt came out – I don’t think I have any right now. OR maybe I just don’t know exactly what dreams are. Cinderella says “a dream is a wish your heart makes” – My heart aches, it doesn’t make dreams or wishes. It’s just not time yet.

    I find little pleasures in things, and an occasional bigger pleasure (like my new car last week), but they all come in a dull finish – not sparkling or shiny like pleasures used to be. I think you have to look to the future to create dreams and I don’t see the future at the moment. I am told, repeatedly, that I will sometime … and then perhaps the dreams will come, plans, hopes and all the stuffings of a bright future, but not yet.

    This exercise feels like a failure, I erased the first attempt. I have decided to risk submitting this anyway as an honest thought. Forgive the morbidity and by opening up I am leaving one small spot for Faith – faith in myself that I haven’t forgotten how to dream, just allowing it’s dormancy.

    Faith in those who hear my heart-thoughts and smile in their wisdom that it won’t always be so.
    Thank you for this arena and your tolerance.

    • Hazel says

      Jaqui,
      Any time you can put down your thoughts and talk things out like you have done so honestly in this bit of writing it helps your psyche heal. Thank you for sharing. You never have to apologize for truth.

      I love this statement that you made near the end, “by opening up I am leaving one small spot for Faith – faith in myself that I haven’t forgotten how to dream, just allowing it’s dormancy.”

      One step at a time . . .

    • says

      Jacqui, I’m glad you took the risk to post this and to share your true thoughts on the prompt. You wrote, you thought, you felt, you published it here…how could that be a failure? I call it a success.

    • Ilana says

      Oh Jaqui, I am so sorry for your pain. Though eloquently put, I imagine it was hard to write this piece. You crystallize it perfectly so that I find myself nodding, “Yep, been there. And so recently too. Maybe I’m still there now.” There is no failure here. I hope that drawing this picture of your sorrow and sharing it with us has eased a little of your burden. Wishing you better days ahead, Ilana

  14. Ilana says

    My Dream

    My dream is for peace; peace, quietude, acceptance and love. There is so much pain, chaos and conflict in my life right now. I have sworn off my older brother who sexually, physically and emotionally abused me for years. I’ve tried to make him disappear from my life. Yet my younger brother’s wife has told me that my children still ask about Uncle Andy when I’m not around. I feel guilty… and sad; a gut wrenching wish that I could tell them what that bastard did to me. I want them to hate him as much as I do. But it’s not my right to invade their innocent minds with such ugliness. So I pull the ugliness into my soul to protect their precious hearts. Keep it there until it dissolves my insides and poisons me to death rather than let it near my little darlings.

    I am trying to deal with my feelings about my parents for not doing anything to stop the abuse, for blaming me and belittling my pain. I have stopped speaking to them. My younger brother has sworn me off out of anger at this act. We have no relationship outside of our common love for my children.

    As my journey to healing wears on me and my health continues to suffer, my dear husband is getting worn out. He is resentful and angry at me. I don’t have enough energy to be there for him. It’s always about me. He’s right. I’m sick all the time now, constantly undergoing tests. The last time we examined our relationship I finally understood how frustrated he is and how badly I have been treating him. I felt horribly guilty and offered him a divorce. I said, “I don’t want one but I love you so much that if this is what’s best for you then that’s what we’ll do.” I thought it was big of me, at the time. It really was a cop-out. It meant I did not have to do the work and be there for him. I realized that the next day and asked if we could go to counseling instead. He was glad to hear it and we are finally on the right track.

    But I’m tired. So tired. I want to stop trying, stop working. I want all of the conflict and chaos to go away. I want to swirl in an ocean of peace and feel the warm water rush around me. I want to snuggle into fluffy blankets of acceptance and love. I want to wallow in my children’s laughing eyes and drink in every warm embrace they have to offer. Feel my cheek against the perfect skin of their faces. I want my heart to bask in their simple joy at an Oreo cookie and a glass of milk. This is my dream; peace, quietude acceptance and love. Maybe, one day, if I work hard enough to heal, to treat my loved ones well, maybe one day my dreams will come true.

    • says

      Ilana, your piece brought back to me the utter self-absorption and despair of the healing process-the years when I thought my life would be about nothing but sexual abuse and that it would rent the fabric of every good thing in my life. All I can say is–it didn’t–and that sexual abuse, while part of the fabric of my cloth–is not in the foreground at all. I am glad to hear you’re getting support for your marriage. I’m reminded of one of the best bits of wisdom I gleaned from my mother: “This too shall pass.” I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you will not always be in this kind of pain–and your dream–of healing and peace–will come true.

  15. Terry Gibson says

    There are no dreams at all. Life is about survival in its most basic form. Every night before I fall asleep, I feel lonelier than I have ever felt. No. It must have been worse at some point but my higher power blessed me with no awareness of it. I fought for decades to be cognizant of the madness I was born into and to survive myself. These days only sleep relieves my troubled thoughts.

    However, when I am lucky enough to wake up in good spirits, or have a joyous moment, I savour it. I greet this prompt and seek out a dream or thought to borrow for a time. A wish for all of my communities and myself. A hope. An aspiration and necessity for my complete freedom. “There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.” (Adrienne Rich)

    • Ilana says

      Terry- I am so sorry that you are struggling. It is with shame that I admit to taking comfort that I am not alone in these feelings. Your piece spoke to me and pulled at my heart both because I am sad you are in pain and because I am right there with you. I pray for relief and peace for both of us, all of us. Ilana

    • says

      Terry, your post illuminates the paradox of healing–how we wake up our senses and feelings and lift the veil of numbness–and then have to face the very painful emotions and feelings we’ve been covering for a decade. Thank you for sharing this painful moment–and your appreciation for the moments of joy.

  16. Carla S says

    My dream is to oneday know my 4 grandchildren. They are 9, 7, 5, 18 months.
    Through the anger and bitterness that divorce can bring, one can lose the privilege of knowing the next generation.

    I lost my oldest son to a tragic accident at 29- he had no children. I lost my other son & daughter to anger and bitterness of divorce. The price that is paid for dissolving a family unit may sometimes be too high- no matter what the circumstances or the reasons for that difficult decision.

    To “dream” of knowing your granddchildren doesn’t seem like it fits in the category of dreaming- yet, it is what I default to on my dream list.
    As the years pass and they continue to grow- I wonder what they will dream of?
    I long to be able to hear ” I love you, grandma or for the opportunity to share some of the family history with them that they may never learn.

    I somehow wonder if they will grow up to be somewhat different people than they may be- without a soft touch of a grandmother’s heart or hug…..
    the smallest influence that could shape their own perspective of life.

    I dream that my surviving children- will oneday call and welcome me back into their lives. It seems painfully strange sitting on the sidelines watching their lives go on without me —-If they could only close their eyes and dream what I dream.

    • says

      Carla, I’m so sorry you have to carry this grief and loss in your life when you have so much to offer. I, too, hope you one day experience a reconciliation and have them in your life.

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