Our creative selves

Let me preface this by recognizing that one really ought not tell anyone their dreams because 1) they don't make sense, 2) even if it does, it only makes sense to the dreamer, and 3) they're generally boring. I know that but just like many who feel they are on the brink of some kind of discovery when they recall a dream, I feel compelled to share it anyway. At least, I won't begin with I had a funny dream last night.

I wake up to NPR on weekdays. I think it's a great way to know what's happening around the world. Like many NPR fans, I check myself at parties or group discussions, keeping a mental note to limit segues into conversations with"I heard on NPR..." to a reasonable amount. The NPR alarm idea is really great except that now that I think my brain no longer jolts in awareness at the sound of talk, thereby rendering the use of radio as alarm uselss. My dreams blend into bits and pieces of the Morning Edition and the cool and matter of fact voices of Renee Montagne and Steve Inskeep weave in and out. It makes for interesting news sometimes. I'm never sure why I know a particular bit of news. I think I heard it on NPR but I'm not sure. I could have just dreamed it. Anyway today, as I was waking up to the traffic segment, I dreamed of a ruled paper pad, much like the one I used in kindergarten, and in it were kid drawings (mine, in the dream) of Ted Novak on a pod-like space-agey air craft cruising past clouds while he's looking on to the perfect grid that make up Chicago. I could see the spindly spikes of Sears Tower and the curlies that suggest the lakeshore beaces and up on the north side at the border that meets Evanston, there was me waving to Ted asking where Abby was. Then I heard Renee, say sweetly, Thanks Ted and I was awake. I love these dreams where I see my adult life from the point of view of a younger version of myself. I think they reconnect me to a time when I feel I was at my most creative self.

When I was eight or so I wanted to know what it feels like to be a fish with all that salt water in their eyes. So I went to the kitchen and rummaged for some salt. Pried my eyes open and began dropping rock salt in them. Okay, so not exactly my proudest moment yes, but what I do remember was the thought process, a question that started with an attempt to sympathize. With a fish! At another time, at a pool party, thinking of floaters in my arms, I toyed with the idea of walking in water. I won't go into the details. I'll let your own imaginative child selves dream that one up.