Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.
~Marsha Norman


Grandmother and Me

Dreams are surreal vehicles, if one can only remember the message upon waking.

My Grandmother Page visited me in a dream a few mornings ago.  In the dream, Handi-man and I were building a house.  (Hmm.)  In the dream, there was a truck coming down the drive. (Company? The Pages will soon gather on the first Sunday in May…)  In the dream, there was a space in the dining room, in need of a table. (Handi-man and Daddy recently retrieved Grandmother’s table from storage.)  In the dream, I walked into a hall (we lack and are now working on the “center hall”) and Grandmother was sitting in a chair.  She looked at me and said, “Deb, you’ve got to get us some of those [ ] dishes.”  Dishes?  She distinctly said a brand or a pattern.  I even repeated it back to her in the form of a question.   But, then I awoke.  And the dream, and the name of the dishes evaporated.

Bizzare? Yes, a bit.  It may be that in spending so much time in the old house and in touching its memories, that my dreams and reality have meshed.  In the picture above, I still have the chair on the left, the rocker on the right and the child’s rocker in the background.  I have many of my grandparents’ relics, and the memories they tell are strong.

At times, during the restoration of The Farmhouse, I have been unable to sleep as I “build” the old house into the wee hours of the night.  Handi-man and I have both suffered from this “working” insomnia over the past two and a half years.

Many years ago, long before we ever took on this project, I would have a reoccurring dream of building a house.  In that dream we would walk from our house to that house, the house we were building.  It was on an opposite hill and down the road.  We would walk through its rooms which were always the same in the dream.  The dream was a bit disconcerting in that, upon waking I couldn’t understand why we were building a house when we already had a house.  I haven’t had that dream in a while. Was that dream a foreshadowing? Illustrations from a book my soul would someday write?

A dream doesn’t become reality through magic; it takes sweat, determination and hard work.
~Colin Powell