What Matters


When I was tossing and turning in the middle of the night I managed to doze off and then there he was, standing in front of me was my grandfather.  He looked amazing, so healthy and well.  His skin was smooth and a glowing flesh tone.  He wore a navy blue button down shirt, short sleeved.  He had an easy smile, a peaceful facial expression and he came to tell me that none of my worries mattered.  I didn’t only hear this I actually felt it and I was so grateful to him for this message, so comforted to be with him in my dream.  When he gave me this message I had a vision of this life being made small into a little compartment that I could hold between my thumb and forefinger.  Inside of that little compartment was a lot of noise and chaos and from the outside it was just a small bubble.  Then he reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled zip lock bag.  He reached into the plastic baggie and took out a broken piece of white cracker like a piece of the ones that are given out at Holy Communion services in Christian churches, a broken piece of Eucharist.  My grandfather reached over and put that broken piece of a cracker into my mouth and I chewed down onto it and started crying in my dream until I woke myself up with real tears.  My grandfather passed away 17 years ago and I have not had a dream with him in it for many years.  When he was alive he always wore short sleeved button down shirts.  I miss him very much and I appreciated seeing him in a dream, for a few moments.


When I Grow Up


I was inspired to write this by a blogger named Sreejit that I follow.  He wrote about what he wanted to be when he grew up and it made me reflect on my childhood.


When I was ten I had a new step Mom and I had been dancing classical ballet for four years under the strict and traditional style of an old school Argentine dancer.  Ballet was everything to me and I continued being quite dedicated to it until I was fifteen years old, when my body developed and I was no longer a match for the weight and body type requirements.  My pop music interests started around 11 years of age when I had a neighbor originally from Cape Cod named Danielle who was obsessed with John Cougar (Mellencamp) and Bruce Springstein.  Together we sat on my Dad’s brown sofa and watched MTV launch with amazement.  The astronaut with the MTV flag, the same ten or twenty videos looping, the VJs, it was all new and incredible to us at 12 and 13 years old.  We had a crush on a guy (yes the same guy) in our building complex, we would fish off of our dock in the river and lay on the roof of our building to get tanned.  When Danielle moved away to live with her Mother I was a teenaged brace face with a very two household schedule and dance.  I was an only child and got a baby sister at my Dad’s house when I was 13.  If I think about what I wanted to be when I grew up then, I come up with a blank.  I already knew that being a ballerina was not possible as I was not at the top of my class and my teacher weighed me and a couple of other girls each Friday because we weren’t slender enough.  I was not a kid who wanted to be a veterinarian or any of those childhood favorites.  My parents were working hard to make life happen but I don’t remember thinking I’d follow in their career footsteps.  Not because of what they were doing but it just wasn’t something that entered my mind at all.  While I was an adolescent, the thought of what I wanted to be when I grew up was never a thought.  I was processing factors in my home life, going to school, going to dance classes and later participating in sports at school.  Like most at that age I loved music, make up and wanted to have friends.  The first three concerts I attended (with my Mom) were Wham, The Jacksons and Prince.  I remember my childhood fondly but I don’t remember dreaming about a white wedding, a glamorous career or a fancy life.  The path that life takes with it’s turns and forks in the road is not predictable and I did not have a wish about what it would be like either.  The person who inspired me to write this, Sreejit, entitled his post “Dreams and the Continual Creation of our Reality” and the end of that title speaks to me more because I believe in taking action and making one’s reality.  I guess I am not a dreamer, as unromantic as that sounds.  What about you and your childhood dreams?

“Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson