hockey dreamin’

I have been having a lot of dreams lately where I’m going to play hockey – either it’s a practice, or a game or something, but I never end up playing as I either can’t find a piece of equipment, or by the time I get ready (which would have been pretty quickly! I was only a slowpoke when it came to the undressing part after the fact) and then the game/practice/scrimmage is over!

What does that mean? is my subconscious just telling me that I really miss playing hockey, or is it something else? Well, I know I am definitely missing the game. And I know I could certainly play in a rec league. Hm, something to look into for the fall!

the flower shop

Based loosely off a dream I had last night (or this morning, I can’t be sure). Unfinished, for now.

The Flower Shop
Everything she felt was pain. Crying uncontrollably, she held out her arms, reaching for something, anything to take her away from the agony she was experiencing. She couldn’t escape the sounds, the smell, the sights around her. Red and green, blue and yellow and silver mixed together as the world cried with her. The loud, wretched noises shook the air around her. And she was terrified, unmoving.

She was growing weaker, falling limp as she was being drawn into a pool of glowing green. Voices whispered her name, mocked her, laughing at her fruitless attempts to escape.

A gloved hand reaced for hers. Grasping it tightly, she somehow managed to surface from underneath the heavy emerald sea. A smile,  a strand of shining hair brushed her cheek. The simple gesture gave her a new resolve, and with slender fingers, she reached behind her head for the ribbon that sat at the top of her braid, and the beautiful stone that resided in it.

Despite the friendly smile that beamed upon her, despite the delicate hair that shone with the reflection of the green below, pale pink lips parted into a silent scream.

It was gone.

* * * * * * *

A young woman jolted upright in her bed. Her heart was pounding and she was shaking from head to toe. Green eyes blinked in the semi-darkness.

She turned to her dresser. In the shadows she could see her ribbon and it’s precious cargo was still there.

It was only a dream. Only a dream…

Heaving a rather uncomfortable sigh of relief, she climbed out of bed, tiptoeing across the cold floor towards her window. She pulled the curtains aside, revealing a beautiful garden below, and a hint of sunlight that managed to slip through the cracks in the grey clouds that loomed above.

A trace of a smile formed on her face as she turned away from the window. No matter if it rained, it was going to be a lovely day. She reached for the robe she had left on her chair, and slipped it on over her nightgown. She of thought of the gardening she must do, the flowers she must pick, which ones she would cut and sell, and of all the the people she might meet as she went down the stairs into the kitchen, where she could smell the beginnings of her mother making breakfast.

She had a good feeling about today.

3 wishes

I had this dream last night - in that miniature window of time when I was actually able to sleep - where I came across this homeless man on my way to work who was asking people passing by for change. When this happens in real life, sometimes I’ll have the time or money to spare, sometimes not. In my dream I didn’t have any change in my pockets, but I had a fair amount of cash in my wallet (does not happen in real life! I also don’t stop to check my pockets either, thats just asking for trouble) so I gave him a fiver. Naturally he was eccstatic, he jumped up and did a little dance, and then grabbed my hands and told me he was a genie and would grant me three wishes in return for my kindness, starting tomorrow.

Oh, if only it were true.

last night, i had a dream

I was in front of the mirror in my bathroom, having a conversation with myself. Well, my reflection really. I don’t exactly remember what I was speaking about, but that wasn’t as significant as the fact that when I finished talking, my reflection told me I had better write everything down before I forgot. It was eerie, but at the same time my dream self wasn’t too bothered by it. Of course, by the time I woke up I had already forgotten what I was talking about in my dream, and there was nothing I could do to get myself to recall any of it. It bothered me for a little while, but then I forgot about that too. Except for the part about not wanting to forget.

The point of this story is not that I have a really bad memory (although that is very true), but that I decided I should get back into the habit of making writing down my daily musings – and there are many. Okay, so maybe it has a little bit to do with my memory… At any rate the things I’m thinking need to be written down, and I don’t like wasting paper unless I’m drawing. But that’s another story in itself.