I am a dreamer. Always have been. I believe you can live your dreams. Life doesn't exactly turn out the same as you dreampt it, but it's close enough. Life is more beautiful if you take the time to dream.
Here's one of my daydreams, written in January of 2001...
I awoke to the soft illuminations of light from my Zen clock. It's quiet chimes lifted me from my slumber. I got up, my barefeet landing on the rough wood floor and pulled on my robe. It was still dark, although the sky showed early signs of the coming day and I could hear the steady breathing of Warren and Clyde, our bassethound, all nestled warm in the covers.
I added a log to the wood stove and as it crackled and started to heat, I boiled some water and brewed a strong cup of black tea and honey. Taking a blanket, I headed out the back screen door and was greeting by our yawning cats. I scoooped out their breakfast into their dishes and left them to their eating. I put out my blanket on our lawn and looked outward into the wide mountain range before me. There, I sat in silence. I watched the sun slowly rise and listened to the world wake up.
My stomache growled so I arose and headed inside with the cats. I mixed together a batch of pancakes and sizzled them on the woodstoves. I poured a mound of butter and syrup on them and put them with big glasses of fresh orange juice on a tray and brought them into our room.
Warren and Clyde awoke and grinned when they saw me. We cuddled in bed and ate breakfast while the cats slept at our feet.
The sun was now shining through our window in full force, prodding us out of bed. We got up, Warren grabbed a coke and we walked barefoot down the path to the hot springs. We bathed and relaxed in it's comforting warm, bubbling waters. The we dried off and got dressed. It was to time to start the days work. We put on some mellow tunes as I pruned and watered the gardens, picked any new harvests and planted new seedlings, while Warren chopped wood, played with the dog and worked on his 1957 Chevy.
Our closest neighbor, 1 mile away, stopped by and brought us some of her freshly baked apple pie. I opened some wine and we all sat down to enjoy the pie. Our neighbor left and we realized it was hot! So we decided to take the dog for a walk. About 10 minutes later we reached the beach. Clyed took off and ran howling in pleasure at the smells. I held Warren's hand as we dug our feet into the hot sand. We threw sticks for Clyde until the sun was burning through our clothes. We stripped off our clothes and went for a refreshing dip in the cold waves.
Then we headed back to the land. We were have a fiesta that night so we had to get ready. As we cooked, opened the homemade wine, and got the bonfire going, the sun started to drop slowly from the sky. We lighted candles on the path and stoked the fire. As we kissed in the twilight, we heard the sounds of our friends arriving.
We all sat around the fire and ate, drank, laughed and talked. Then I brought my guitar out and we sang songs until we were hoarse. Later, as the peace pipe slowly made its way around, we sat in comfortable silence as we listened to the flames and the sparks as they flew out of crackling logs.
Life was good. And we all knew it.