If dreams are supposed to be our subconscious hard at work, then why do they manifest themselves so strangely?
Take last night. A dream reunited me with my poor little Guido pug who was hit by a car in front of the house about six years ago. As the dream story goes, friends kept telling me about this little pug who kept asking for me. That’s right. I said “asking.” I told you dreams do strange things–that’s why I tried to prepare you for this in the first sentence. Dah.
Anyway, I was told this dog was living in a greenhouse that was down the street. Of course, in a dream, down the street can take you all night to get there, right? So after a long journey, I found this little pug dog calling my name. It was Guido. He ran to me and jumped in my arms. He told me he was happy that I had come. Then in his playful Guido-way, he got me to follow him. We went inside the greenhouse where beautiful orchids grew. He introduced me to his girlfriend, Maggie, and then said he was happy. Guido said he was sorry he had been a bad dog, peeing on every vertical surface, inside and out. I had been a good Mom and deserved better. He also said he was sorry for running to the park and had to leave me because of the accident. He said he missed me. But most of all, he wanted me to know he was fine. He said the greenhouse wasn’t as nice as my living room, but he wasn’t alone. I held Guido for one last time and kissed the top of his head. I thanked him for letting me know he was all right, but I had to get back home to take care of Ernie, his successor.
After I left Guido, I went back to my own house and found my little brick ranch transformed. There were long vines of Bleeding Heart plants with flowers as big as my hand cascading down the sides of my house. The flowers were beautiful shades of pink, white, blue and red. The magnificent streams of color toppled out from the gutters I neglected to clean in the Autumn. As I gazed at this miracle, I forgave myself for not getting the gutters cleaned, pulled out a lawn chair, and sat in the driveway gazing at flowers which had always refused to grow in my garden.
What does this all mean? What is my subconscious trying to say? I have no idea. But I woke from my slumber happy. The fanciful journey set me up for a good day–or at least thoughtful material for the blog. At any rate, a night spent with pleasant dreams beats insomnia!
Do you have a favorite dream? If so, tell me about it. Just no nightmare, please.
Author Mccloskey Speaks 
Just curious Barbara, when you awake from a dream do you immediately write it down? I wake several times a night for snacks and am wondering should i keep note of each dream with each bite of cookie.
I do keep a notebook by the side of my bed because so many times I get ideas for my writing and if I don’t capture them I’ll lose them. If I have a dream I want to remember, I will jot that down, too. I’ve been doing this since college when I was reading and writing A LOT. It’s helped me out more than once.
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