Livin' My Dream

My morning has been completely derailed by looking for the answer to one small question. How long did I enjoy my downstairs bedroom in my previous home? 

I knew the answer was within this blog (the answer is: November 8, 2015 until shortly after the renovation project was complete: March, 2019).

Look what I found while I was doing my research. I documented my dream on July 26, 2013: 

Friday, July 26, 2013

I had a vision of how I wanted last summer to go...

I was working for the school at the time, so there was little chance of being called to work over the summer. In a perfect world (a world where I didn't have to worry about paying the bills), I would have two months of summer holidays. I had an adult child at home that was willing to take care of the house over the summer and I could do anything or go anywhere I wanted. In a perfect world...

I dreamt of finding a quiet retreat. I would pack up my little laptop computer, my Book Research and all the paraphernalia that would be required to get us through the summer. I would pack up My Youngest and they would spend a summer outside, away from X-box live, the Internet and the television set. They would hate me for a while but after all was said and done we would look back on the summer as the-best-we-had-ever-had.

To perpetuate my dream, I found out that one of my dad's brothers had vacated their country home ... which just happened to be the last home that my dad's parents lived in together. It is a two story home and I would set up a desk and computer beside an outward facing window (insert picture of John Boy Walton here) and I would write.

I would vacation in a world that was close to my dad's family. The geography, the atmosphere, the essence, the solitude and the time would provide me with everything I needed to tackle the job that I had set before me. It was going to be wonderful.

I'm still waiting for those two months of summer holidays, but the quiet retreat, the two story home with a desk by an outward facing window, a world close to my roots ... is my reality.

If you dream it, it will come.

I'm living in my field of dreams.

Manifesting

I was listening to Chris Sullivan (Toby - from "This is Us") speak on his experience with writing Morning Pages, as he went through the 12 week process with the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. His morning pages led him to listening to his inner voice which, a step at a time, led him to "This is Us" and his present day life.

As I struggled through my own Morning Pages this morning, they consisted of little more than to-do-lists and a list of things I wanted to remember. I write lists on the margins of my pages and flip back to those pages to check my progress.

Lately, my thoughts have been consumed with the hopes and dreams I wrote about within those Morning Pages throughout the winter. I wished for little more than a shed, new bedroom/living room windows and a solar powered bird bath.

One by one, my wishes are coming true. Does it count if it is my son who is manifesting these dreams on my behalf? I'm not quite sure...

Here are pictures of yesterday's manifestation process:

Noon

↑ Supper time↓

I don't know whether to thank Julia Cameron and her Morning Pages ritual? Or my son? 

My son gets all the credit for this.

Thank you for manifesting my dreams for me!

In the Quiet I Can Hear ...

Today is my favorite day. A weekday when I don't have to work, be anywhere or be anything to anyone. I'm walking to the beat of my own heart this morning and it is life affirming.

First off, I made myself a cup of coffee. Then I turned on the Christmas lights and left the rest of the house in darkness. No music, no podcasts, no outside interference whatsoever.

I could hear the furnace cutting in and warming the chilly morning air. I listened to the train whistles as they bustled through our little town. Eventually Mom's clock woke up and started chiming the hour. Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!

It was 6:00 a.m. and I marvelled at how time travelled at such a slower pace without my regular morning diversions. I sat in my rocking chair, opened all the blinds, enjoyed the view and heard my thoughts bubbling to the surface.

I grabbed a pen and pad. I started writing little lists of hopes, dreams and aspirations. First, thinking of my home. Next, looking inward and thinking of my personal wish list. My personal thoughts were capital letter items. 

The house and yard dreams came with a price tag. My personal wish list was priceless. Write. Move. Invite. Remember the joy of puttering. Re-create boredom to find stillness and space to feel the creative juices again ...

Then the clock started chiming more hours away. The closer I got to 8:00, the more practical my list became. 

Get a landline. Goal - use my cell phone as required but not for emails, podcasts, scrolling, shopping, checking the weather or highway conditions. Use the computer for "all of the above". Be INTENTIONAL with my cell phone usage.

Final words as I put my pen and paper down to write this:

JUST BEGIN

THREE DAY WORK WEEK IS THE GOAL

... and that is just the front of the pages ...

Moving Toward

There has been a shift in my mindset lately. My focus is where I am heading instead of where I am.

My regularly scheduled stressors have felt more manageable because the end is near. My work here is (almost) done. I must accomplish what needs to be done, lay the groundwork for what happens next and let it go.

The bigger picture is what I am moving toward. Settling into my little weekend oasis which will become my new permanent home. HOME. Home ...

I am picturing and imagining how I will make this shared cabin-feeling house into a place where I am making decisions based on my personal preferences. No cats, dependents or anyone but me need to be taken into consideration.

I got married and moved out of home when I was 17 years old. I went from living with Mom, Dad and my brother to living with my husband. Then we had a baby. 

There have been two additional, well spaced out children added to my dependent-count as well as a rotating number of dogs, (mostly) cats and a few pet rodents (a few wild ones too). My marriage was one of an on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again (repeat one more time) variety and my second long term relationship never resulted in sharing a roof. 

There were 14 years of full-time daycaring, when almost all home repair, improvement and renovations were made based on the necessity of having a child-friendly home. 

Then came the years (three and counting) of bookkeeping from home. One bedroom dedicated 100% to a home office, file storage space encompassing half of the available floor space in a second bedroom and a holding space for four (very) large filing cabinets in our "flex space" (ie - room without a purpose). 

I have always shared my home with others. Even when my children were on a holiday or away for some reason, there was always a four-footed critter afoot, to explain away any bumps in the night. 

I have never lived alone.

In just over three months, I am moving into a dependent-free; cat-free; and (almost) office-free home. My foot is in the door, with a casual job position in my new home town. I am close enough to start imagining how life will look and feel when I am there.

I have a renewed appreciation for where I am, because I know it is not where I am going to stay. I'm moving forward and toward a renewed life.

I am looking at our generic cabin-like house and beginning to see beyond what is and envisioning what it can become.

Ahhh ... to look forward and allow myself to dream again. There is much work to be done to get from "here" to "there" but the mere act of moving toward a goal is life affirming.

A shift in perspective is hard to come by when a person is in the thick of coping with life-as-it-is. Moving toward a small goal is a baby step in the right direction.

Six Months

Back to work. Back to my previously scheduled life. Back to the same old, same old.

As much as I love routine, the comfort of knowing my job well and all the benefits of working from home ... this part of my life is winding to a close. Six months. I gave notice last year. I now have six months to wind things up and pass the torch.

This knowledge should have me kicked into high gear right about now but I'm feeling overwhelmed. I am missing my teacher/my boss/my colleague/my support/my guiding light. 

If she was sitting in the office beside me, she would have a to-do-list written up and a timeline and outline of what must be done. I can do that. I am capable and her words still guide me.

My work situation prior to COVID was becoming unmanageable. Working from home bought three more years of employment than I would not have been capable of, if nothing had changed. 

I am grateful for that time, the experience I gained, the financial security of a regular pay cheque and the comfort of staying with a job I know well.

Now that there is an end in sight, I ponder the wisdom of waiting so long. There is no going back. Forward is the only option. Forward is good. Forward is a tad frightening.

Six months from now, the goal is to be living in my little oasis home away from home. The intention has been set. The path has been cleared. I have found employment in my new-to-me town. It is as simple as packing up my home and office, then passing my responsibilities over to the next generation.

July 1, 2024 ... oh, how I wonder how my life will look in six short months...

An empty calendar page at the moment.

It holds the potential for oh, so many things.

Remembering When...

When I was a child, I dreamed simple dreams. I lived in a world of make believe, playing house, pretending and acting out what I imagined to become my future. 

Playing house utilized a lot of imagination when I was growing up. Pretend stoves, fridges, TV's and numerous household belongings were made from cardboard boxes or whatever one could find at hand. I dreamed of child sized furniture, miniature kitchens and doll furnishings and was grateful for anything that could be imagined into reality.

During my daycare days, I created my idyllic childhood dream for my daycare family. We had a Little Tykes kitchen, doll furniture and accessories galore, a little playhouse for the deck and a building, most would call a shed, that was dubbed "playhouse". Thanks to garage sales and second hand shopping, I created my dream come true for the little ones in my care.

As I grew out of playing house, my interest in TV was my second most favorite place to imagine myself. I wished I could be a witch like Samantha on Bewitched. I remember the elation of watching Bewitched, a favorite show of mine, and wishing another episode would play immediately. To have to wait one long week for a new episode felt like forever. 

Now, thanks to the multitude of streaming services and the vast amount of syndicated television programs, one can go back and watch old favorites. Just as I had dreamed - one show after another, no need to wait a week for the next episode. 

I am quite literally living the life of my childhood dreams. Child sized furniture has been replaced with real life furnishings and appliances. Live, breathing children replaced dolls and pretend babies. I can sit still and watch a favorite show as long as I can stay awake (never, in my wildest childhood dreams, did I ever think I would fall asleep at the speed I do in adulthood).

My life has become everything I dreamed. Minus a husband - I'm not quite sure why I never imagined that into my reality. I tried. It just didn't work out the way of my dreams ...

I sit here within my quiet, simple little life and am simply amazed. Life has become everything I had ever dreamed it could be.

Should I have dreamed of something bigger? Perhaps. But that would be someone else's dream. Not my own. I am content with what I have, what is real and the day I wake up to each morning.

As the world events of the day dominate the news and serve as a reminder to be grateful for the peaceful existence within our country, community and homes we have created ... I have slipped back into my childhood memories and am simply grateful.

Remember your dreams. Forget other people's expectations. Strive to create the world you hoped to live in when you were a child. 

Let there be peace. Within our hearts, minds and souls. And let that peacefulness embrace our family, friends and community. One peaceful heart at a time, may harmony dominate.

Please? 

Living the Dream

As my first thoughts of the morning found their way onto my "morning pages", they felt scrambled, disconnected, fragmented and torn. It is Monday morning and quite literally, I have one foot in my weekend-oasis-aspiring-retirement-place-of-residence and the other foot is packing up to go back home to my work-week and home-life responsibilities.

During my weekend, I get to take off all of my "responsibility hats" and simply exist. Fill myself up with whatever is needed, soak up some solitude and a fair dose of selfishness and simply live a life of ease.

My weekdays are consumed with bookkeeping, senior care, cat care, household tending and part-time-parenting my independently-dependent adult child who is living at home.

One foot into a hopeful retirement goal, one foot planted firmly in reality. Earning a living, paying the bills, taking care of the needs of our home and those who inhabit it. 

It is easy to dream the dream of retirement aspirations. But the road that must be travelled between where I am and where I aspire to be is unknown territory. A lot of things will change between where I am and where I want to go.

As I wound up the last sentence of my morning pages, I wistfully wrote "I may already be living the dream and I don't even know it".

We don't know what tomorrow will bring. We could be paving the way to a future we are anticipating but not realizing "this", where we are today, the "before" is truly the dream. 

Challenging as our days may be, it is good to remember life-as-we-know-it could change on a dime. Take a moment to think of what it may take to transition from one phase of life to the next. It could be a wonderful thing. Then again, it could be a set of dire circumstances that upset the status quo.

I will do my best to appreciate "what is", this week. I will not dwell on the "what ifs". I will glance towards the horizon and hope each forward step takes me one step closer to what I think it is I hope for. But not lose the gift of the present.

Who knows? We could already be living our dream. Dreams shift, evolve and morph in unexpected ways. Such is life. Let's just take it one forward step at a time.

It Was a Dream (it was only a dream)

Dreams are weird and wonderful and a little wacky. I was smack dab in the middle of a place I didn't want to be and I had no idea all I had to do was open my eyes.

My dream took me everywhere:

• I was running my daycare
• I was trying to leave work but my shoes were gone
• Someone found me a very small pair of slip on sandals I could use (they commented "Thank you, Mrs ?" as they handed the petite sandals over to me, leading me to believe they had once belonged to a beloved senior they once knew)
• I used the borrowed sandals despite the ill fit
• I quit my job
• I went to find my car and was afraid someone took my car so I popped the hood of the trunk to find it was still there
• I backed out of my spot and got stuck on ice
• I revved the car backwards to pick up speed to go forwards on the ice and forgot to look to see if it was safe to do so
• I didn't hit anything or anyone
• I sped past the point where I was stuck before and was in the clear
• Next thing I know, I'm riding a bike uphill towards downtown
• Two skateboarders were coming from opposite directions
• I didn't hit the skateboarders and they hugged when they met up
• I was stuck at an intersection on my bike
• Somewhere in the middle of the chaos I stop to read all the hand written messages written in crayon, bidding me farewell from my job
• One of the messages said, "I hear you quit because you don't like writing up invoices for snow. That's okay ..."
• War planes were flying overhead
• Young children were excited to see the planes
• I was terrified
• A plane hovered over us and a soldier calmly said if they had orders to shoot, they would do so
• I had to turn one way to pick up my child
• Home was in the opposite direction
• The world was ending and I was stuck in an intersection ...

Then I opened my eyes.

Never have I ever been so relieved to wake up, at home, safe and protected. 

Then I realized I woke up to a day off. It is July 1st!!! Happy Canada Day everyone!!!

Stay safe. Wear your shoes. Watch out when you are backing up. And remember hard days don't last forever. A good night's sleep is the best medicine.

Aspiration

I aspire to be ...

I did not realize the power these words held until I read something this morning. The writer of the post said three things set them into motion: inspiration, aspiration or desperation.

Inspiration does not take me far. It is a spark. But a spark does not ignite without good air flow and a little "fanning of the flame" to keep it burning. Inspiration without a defined goal depletes me. I need to work toward an end result. To dream of something bigger than the spark of an idea.

I would have said desperation my driving force until I realized "desperation" has caused me to wake up and take note of a situation which no longer served me. I have sat in limbo making pro/con lists as I mapped out possibilities of where I could go from where I was at. 

To run with no set destination in mind, one doesn't go far. Once one has a defined destination - something to run toward, endless possibilities await.

I have been navigating my life without a map for a lot of years now. Lost at sea. Aimless. Pointless. Drifting. No future hopes, goals or dreams leads to nowhere.

Suddenly, "retirement" is a goal I have in mind. I have found a home I hope to retire in. A physical change, made with intention. I am moving towards the life I aspire to live.

The timeline is flexible but for the first time since Mom asked me about my 10 year plan (almost four years ago), I have found myself smack dab in the middle of a tentative 5 year plan. 

Mom? I have a plan. It feels good. Drifting aimlessly through one's days/months/years is not exhausting. But it certainly isn't life affirming.

I see the life I aspire to live in the not-so-distant future. 

This looks (and feels) like a very good destination to run toward...

Hello

Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all this time I'd like to sit down and write again ...

Yes. I do believe I do. I feel more "me" than I have felt in a very long time. I think I'm finally ready to let my fingertips do the talking and see if I can hear the deepness of my thoughts that haven't had the opportunity to find their way to my consciousness.

As I have been walking through my morning, I keep hearing Mom's voice in my thoughts. I miss being a daughter. The last year of Mom's life, I believe I went to see her as often as I did so I could be mothered, hear what she had to say and just lean in and take in all I could.

Mom knew me better than I knew myself. She knew I had to close my daycare. She was wary when I switched my vocation from child care to senior care. She knew ...

A wise friend of mine once wrote about the contrasts between caring for the young who are becoming more independent with each step forward verses caring for those who are on the opposite end of the spectrum and becoming more dependent as time progresses. 

While children may sap one's energy physically, there is a mental fatigue that comes with investing one's time solely with their senior counterparts. 

There is a joyfulness in children I often described as "heaven on earth" moments when I had my daycare. In equal comparison, there is an inner child within my more senior friends who light up like a Christmas tree when reminiscing and talking about the good old days. 

One of my favorite things was watching children at play while they had no idea I was watching. The fly-on-the-wall moments. Innocence. Imagination. Their unique ways of taking in the moments. The moments wonder. Listening to children using good manners without an adult prompting them. The moments were precious and plentiful. One just had to stop and take notice of them when they happened.

One of my favorite things while spending time with my senior companions is when they get lost in the retelling of the stories of their past. Their eyes glisten and shine. Their posture changes. There is an energy from within that lights them up and rolls back the years. They have so much wisdom to share. So many stories. There is a history within them begging to be told.

There is a space between the day-to-day repetitive nature of child and senior caring and those moments of joy that is hard. It was those times when I ran out to Mom's to escape the increasing pressure of of maintaining my equilibrium. I needed to place some distance my day-to-day life and drive off to spend time with my lifeline. My mom.

I have missed running out to see Mom. I have missed being "daughtered". I have a supportive group of friends and family that would keep me standing throughout any storm. But I have missed distancing my day-to-day life from a place where I can go to recharge and rejuvenate myself.

I believe I have finally found my way back "home". Again.

I haven't felt this certain about the next right step for quite some time. I have not felt the yearning desire to leave this oasis I call home to go anywhere for a very, very long time. 

Something has changed.

This little gem is a weekend getaway for now. A potential place to call home when I retire. 

I haven't looked forward in anticipation for longer than I can remember. I lost my dream gene. Every little piece of the puzzle has fit together in a way to make this new dream possible. I have felt Mom and Dad's nod of approval every step of the way.

When I was a nine year old child, I vividly remember sobbing uncontrollably when we drove off our farm in the hills in Saskatchewan to head off to our new lives in Edmonton. I vowed to myself, "I'm going to grow up, become a teacher and move back to our home town". 

I didn't become a teacher but I do believe my inner child is completely satisfied with the reality of moving to small town Saskatchewan. Not the same small town I dreamed of as a child. But close. So very close.

I Can't Hear Myself Think

I have become everything I never wanted to be. 

Unmotivated, uninspired ... put the prefix "un" in front of all the things I ever aspired to become and that is the gist of my overall feeling of unrest.

Writing has saved me from myself time and time again. Yet I cannot seem to find the words to put to page the way I used to. It doesn't matter if I write uncensored thoughts just for myself, words here on my blog to force myself to be accountable, reply to an email or respond to a text. Words do not come easily.

TOO MANY WORDS are a requirement for living these days.

I woke up feeling my feelings very deeply one recent morning. They were so deep and so heavy. I did one right thing. I did NOT turn on the TV or computer to numb myself out of what I was feeling. I simply allowed myself to feel my feelings and let myself sink into the abyss.

I did cheat. I sent off a few messages which resulted in hearing the words I most needed to hear which was followed up with a conversation with someone who has known me long enough to know who I truly am and likes me anyway, which allowed me to say the words I was feeling out loud .

Days have unfolded since then and as I look at what brought me to my knees that particular morning, it feels like a non-event. I have resumed life-as-I-know-it and the heaviness I felt in that moment has lifted. 

If I hadn't let myself succumb to those emotions at the time, I would have forgotten the entire incident. Enter the addiction of the new world. Numbing. Tuning out one's thoughts and losing them to one's addiction of choice. Food, alcohol, scrolling, drugs, Netflix and any number of mind numbing activities you can think of.

Back in the "old days", I would take a morning such as the one I just described and I would have done one of a number of things. I would have cleaned, gone outside or wrote. Whatever activity I may have chose, I would have sunk into my thoughts and listened to myself. In a reflective, healing and cathartic way.

Whether I walked, worked, sat in a sun beam or toiled at some menial household task, I would have let myself THINK.

I have stopped thinking. 

I miss my thoughts. I miss my old self. I miss the light that follows the darkness.

I just read that a person needs three things be happy. Someone to love. Something to do. Something to hope for.

As the thought of my children moving out and on with their lives in distant locations; followed by the "knowing" I have that my employment relies heavily on people who are well into their 80's; and the loss of a dream on the horizon ... I am not looking too far into the future right now.

Something to hope for.

Seems like a small step in a positive direction. Hope. Faith. Trust that "we are exactly where we are meant to be" ...

Everything is going to be okay. Things always works out. I have faith in what I don't yet know. It will all be okay.

It will all work out in the end. If it hasn't worked out, it is not yet the end. 

Morning, Noon and Night

In the beginning of re-imagining our home's main floor plan, 

I had a distinct vision of a den, an office and a bedroom 

instead of the original three bedroom layout. 

Many assumed I meant a den/office sharing one space. 

At NO time did I entertain that thought. 

The den and the office serve two completely different purposes. 

My entire demeanor changes when I exit my home office as compared to when I enter the den.

Welcome to my day:

This is my morning view. 

A cup of coffee at my computer as I gaze at my absolutely awesome library. 

My morning perspective is one of ease and curiosity 

to trigger my imagination and intention for the day. 

This is my work-day.

My office is completely self contained and serves its purpose well.

I love that I can close my door on this room and know that only steps away, 

I can refuel and refresh myself to make the most of my day of work at home.

This is my evening. 

The moment all my daily work commitments have been met, 

I climb into my pajamas and turn on the TV to tune out my thoughts.

My days wind down in the same room they start out in.

Mom's white love seat serves two very important purposes:

1. It is very uncomfortable so I rarely, if ever fall asleep while watching TV

2. It is white so the black cat hair shows up very well. As an added bonus, the fabric does not trap the hair so it is quick and easy to vacuum so the cat hair is tended to very regularly.

The downfall of Mom's love seat is that it does instill the desire to settle in with a good book. 

Thank goodness our living room is more than welcoming

(it is also one of the best spots in our home to visit in).

Our third upstairs bedroom is that, and that alone. 
It is a room of rest, relaxation and sleep.

Of all the rooms in our home, this is quite likely the one I spend most of my time in.

The kitchen gets the least of my time. 

It is a convenient place to make coffee, smoothies and heat up frozen entrées.

It's easier to keep clean that way.

Welcome to my day.

Did I mention just how much I adore our home ...

AND my ability to work out of this slice of heaven?

Dream of the world you want to live in.

Draw it.

Save pictures of how you want to imagine it.

Let your thoughts sink in and settle.

Wait.

Wait some more.

When the time comes, you will know.

Our home is everything I imagined it would be.

And more.

I have a few more spaces to imagine,

so my dreams have not died.

I'm enjoying where I am and will figure out what's next as time goes on.

Some dreams are free.

Others aren't.

For those that come at a cost, 

time spent waiting, wondering, hoping and imagining

is time well spent.

I love living in our home.

Morning, noon and night.

Three Years

Last week, I read and reflected on the thought "What if this was your last week ..." A seed was planted that grew into a dream. A dream that felt amazingly light and brought an incredible sense of peace.

I can recall my dream in fragments. What I remember was being told (presumably by a doctor) that I had only three years to live. My response was a surprise to the person who imparted this news in my dream. "Three years?!" Three years was perfect!!

Three years would give me ample time to "clean house" and prepare. I would have lots of time to spend with family, friends, gatherings and re-unioning (obviously I was not concerned with COVID-19 within my dream state). I only had to concern myself with three more years of financially supporting myself?! 

Everything felt so attainable. Three years was perfect!!

I forgot about that dream until I started writing this morning. It is impossible to know what three years will bring. The ground beneath my feet feels uncertain at the moment. Kind of like I'm walking in quicksand and ever fearful of being pulled under.

Three years.

Why don't I "clean house" figuratively and literally? Not in one weekend. Just adopt a mindset of cleaning up the clutter within our home, my mind and my world in general.

Three years. 

My son should be close to completing his education and looking at the world beyond "home". My work world will have evolved into something different than today.  

Three years.

It is impossible to predict where things will be in three years. But what if a doctor told me I had three years to live. You can bet that I would spend those years wisely.

Why not spend my time wisely anyway?

Reimagining

My Christmas gift from my Middle Son has not only arrived, it has been installed and has moved into its rightful spot within our home. Mom's books have finally found their way to where I imagined them all along. In "Mom's room" ...

Before

After

It has all come together

The books moved into their shelving last night. I have spent the morning tweaking the look, the whereabouts and have brought out pictures which will complete the look.

This room has been one of several guest rooms within our home. It is the room Mom stayed in when she came out to help us move in (26 years ago). It is the room I dubbed "Mom's Room" from that day forward. It is the room she slept in whenever she came to visit (except when it was re-purposed as a daycare room for a while).

The third upstairs room has been transformed into my work-from-home space. The master bedroom has become my room once again. We officially have ONE guest room instead of three.

I have been wandering through the house this morning looking at it with fresh, new eyes. Our house has gone from "home" to "daycare" to "guest house" and presently it is its current state which utilizes every room upstairs. Finally.

I loved when our house was used for a daycare. Every square inch of our home was utilized. Inside and out. Every working day for fifteen years. When I closed my daycare and sold off all the daycare wares I remember feeling I was making room for what was headed my way ...

Little did I know I was making room for some of Mom's belongings after she died. Each and every item that entered our home had an empty spot waiting for its arrival. I had to shift things around in one room. Everything else just "fit".

I was lost for a while afterwards. It was a time when I had many guest rooms and lots of space in my life, heart and home to welcome company. When all three of our spare rooms were filled to capacity late this winter, I felt our home had found its identity. A home-away-from home for those who came to stay.

Then came COVID-19.

Self-isolating. Working-from-home. Staying home. Appreciating our surroundings.

Finally, finally the world reopened enough in and around the same time my son had enough time to devote to the task of installing the bookshelves he built this past winter. I wandered in and out of the room during the installation process. Part of me was panicking. The job of re-homing all Mom's books and belongings I have had in storage felt daunting.

Then I began.

One by one, each book found its spot. The Royal Family is altogether. A space for the Kennedy's. Another spot for biographies. True stories. Family history. Classics. School readers Mom collected (containing many verses she learned in school and could recite until her dying day). Reference materials. Some fiction. Almost everything has found its rightful spot within Mom's library (I am awaiting the final touch ups before re-homing the last of Mom's books on the top shelf).

I am looking at our home in a whole new light this morning. Mom's room looks and feels exactly the way I envisioned it. My office however? Needs a little work. The amazing part of this, is that most of what I need to turn this make-shift office into a "real" office is within our home. Some re-shuffling of what we already have will move the office reno in a forward direction.

Everything starts with a "before". The picture of the "now" is real. The vision of where you want to go is imagined. Unless you draw a picture of where you plan to go. In my case, I have framed my son's vision of the home he saw for Mom's books:

“A dream written down with a date becomes a goal. A goal broken down into steps becomes a plan. A plan backed by action makes your dreams come true.” ~  Greg Reid

I am re-imagining our home's purpose. It is a beginning. 

Unrest

I am loosely paraphrasing something I read recently about dreams.

Dreams written down become goals. Formulating the steps required to attain those goals becomes a plan. Following through on those steps becomes action. Taking action on a dream which was once only a wisp of a dream turns into achieving your dreams.

I used to dream.

I used to visualize where I wanted to be. I often wrote those dreams down. I sometimes added visuals to the dream. Then came the process. Step by step. One small step at a time. Dreams became reality.

I can scour the archives of this blog and my journals to witness the process I unknowingly created time and time and time again.

Unrest instigated the need for change.

Change is a process that required a set of goals.

Goals necessitated action and effort.

Effort was the catalyst of all that followed.

Achieving goals was the reward for all of the above.

The goals were achieved one step at a time. Yes, it was nice to reach the top of that mountain and enjoy the view. In retrospect, I realize I wouldn't have enjoyed the view a fraction of the amount if I hadn't personally overcome all it took to reach the summit.

Unrest. Change. Goals. Effort. Achievement.

Embrace the unrest. It is the catalyst which has the power to take you where you need to go.

Dreaming

"I have stopped dreaming" are words I have written in the not so recent past. My conscious mind wrote the words. My subconscious mind took those words and ran with them.

I have been dreaming dreams I remember long after I wake up these days. Almost every day I have another dream to add to the dream list.

Mom is in many of the dreams. She only spoke to me directly in one of them. In the rest, she has been in the cast of characters but hasn't had a speaking part. I guess she only talks to me on the phone.

My dreams are not disturbing. They all seem to be intertwined with my subconscious thoughts. It is as if my brain is working overtime to figure out the mysteries of life during my sleep.

I have been craving some genuine down time to be still and hear my thoughts. My "sitting in a sun beam" moments, to hear the quiet voice within, seem to be elusive and I can't chase them down. My dreams are working overtime to help me hear my inner voice.

I googled "Why am I dreaming so much?" this morning and found a variety of explanations. None of them seem to apply to me except the explanation that I am probably getting more REM sleep. I feel more rested these days so that answer appeased my curiousity.

Past and present are intertwined. My children become children again. Mom is alive and well. Lots of dreams are intertwined with my day to day thoughts. But I'm still not dreaming of the future.

It feels good to dream again, if only in my sleep. This may be key to unlocking dreams in my wakeful state.

What dreams may come as life unfolds? Time will tell ...

She Called Me

 She called me out of the blue. Just like it was a regular, ordinary Sunday.

"Where are you?!? How are you?"

"Home," she answered as if there is no where else she could possibly be.

She said something that made me feel she knew what I had been through since I last saw her. She understood but I believe she thought I could have been stronger.

"I'll come to see you. Right now!!"

She told me not to come. Not yet ... she was fine.

There was more to the conversation but I can't remember the details. She was okay. She had spoken to my sister. My son had called her. When I asked him what her number was, he looked at me incredulously and replied her number was the same as always (why wouldn't it be?). 

This must be a dream I kept telling myself over and over. But it isn't. Because I'm not waking up. It must be a dream ...

Then I woke up. It was the day before my birthday. She always called on our birthday. I got to hear Mom's voice. She was a day early but she called.

I opened my eyes and remained in the moment. She called me. She is okay. She has been watching over me. She is home. But I cannot come. "Not yet," she told me.

She is home ...

Dream Sequence Analysis

I woke up to a dream sequence that was all over the map this morning. A little bit like my thoughts as I wake up to this frosty, freezing rain kind of Friday.

Thoughts of my car repair saga equalled the dream of driving a newer car I had borrowed from someone. I didn't like it. I didn't like it one little bit. Visibility was poor. I just wanted to get to my destination and back safely.

Thoughts of our pending street closure/water maintenance had me dreaming that I driving past obstacles in this borrowed car. Visibility was poor AND there was unexpected debris on the road. I just wanted to get past the obstacles.

Thoughts of my disjointed, disrupted and unproductive work day yesterday led to the dream of my daycare days. A daycare mom was concerned over her daughter's care and she didn't trust me. She kept dropping in at unexpected times to ensure her daughter's well being. I was trustworthy even when no one was watching.

Thoughts of my youngest son's university challenges was at the core of the dream where he was back in elementary school and I was allowing him to miss school because he slept in. So I took control and drove him to school in the borrowed car from my dream, in my pajamas, dodging traffic/children/debris. I just wanted to be the parent he needed to guide him along the way.

Thoughts of my middle's son quest to further his education had me dreaming that my son asked if he could move home temporarily due to a new responsibility at work. Which morphed into my concerns over his farm and he showed me an elaborate system of keeping his "livestock" (dogs/cats/rabbits) fed and watered in his absence. My middle son is fully capable, independent and doesn't need me. I still want to be there in the ways I can.

Then came the part of the dream that was about our cats and pillows. An excess of pillows. Cats were hiding under them. Cat hair had to be dealt with before I could store the pillows. Cats and pillows - just a part of my every day reality and where I place an extraordinary amount of my energy.

Back to reality now. To make a long story short, I live a good life.

If one leads a life that can be summed up in concerns where we want to get beyond life's roadblocks; make it home safely; peace of mind that we are all doing our best one day at a time, one has little to worry over. Except for the eternal car, cat and pillow thoughts of the moment I couldn't ask for more.

P.S. My car windshield wiper fluid repair was minor - it needed a hose. The rear defrost however is a bigger issue - the only repair they could offer was getting the entire rear window replaced. As I drive to work this morning on icy roads, I will be reminded how fragile this car's life is. What if this car was in an accident? Money must be spent accordingly. More thoughts to ponder in my sleep...

What Dreams Will Come?

My dream gene is malfunctioning and it is playing havoc with the side of me I most enjoy being. I love when the possibilities of a dream diverts my attention from the day-to-day world I live in.

I could go back and try to figure out the why, when and how I have come to this state but it is not important to know how I got here. The key is how do I find my way above and beyond this life numbing state?

I started rambling about my dreams as I wrote my morning pages. I couldn't use the word "dream". The word paralyzed my thoughts. Once I wrote "Wish List", the list appeared.

I don't have a dream to "become" anyone more than I am in this very moment. I am who I need to be to get through my days. My work does not define who I am but it does define my days. To wish for anything to change is to wish for things which will spiral out of my control and make me long for "today". Work is what it is. And that has to be okay.

It is my after-hours-self that needs to jump out of her rut. Just a little. I need to reroute my off-the-clock thoughts into something that inspires me.

Dreams seem too elusive and far away. Wishes are a start. Unfortunately my wishes are things of material value.

#1 wish - a car that will get me through the winter. Either getting my existing car up to snuff or an excellent used car that is not going to gobble up money on repairs and maintenance to get it to the state of trust I have with my existing car.

Tied for #1 - is the desire to pay off the money I borrowed to paint our house. These funds I owe feel daunting. I need to get control of my finances after a very heavy spending year. Thus, I believe I need to do what it takes to get my existing car through the winter. [oh, how I wish I worked from home right about now as this would relieve the pressure of the "reliable car" factor]

#2 - shelving for Mom's books. This is attainable. I just need to make a plan (and get that loan paid off before I feel free to spend the money). Book shelves; floating shelves; hang pictures; make the den a usable space. Right now it is simply a room with a closed door. I utilize so very little of our home these days [oh, how I wish I worked out of our home right about now - I would have the need for a defined office space and that would reroute my thoughts on what is necessary to make that happen]

#3 & 4 - bathrooms. I would start downstairs because the plumbing down there is a concern to me. Start at the bottom and work up. Having a 3 piece bathroom downstairs would do one of two things - I would move my room back downstairs again, leaving one room upstairs as available office space; or we would have the ability to take in a border [oh, how I wish I worked from home as this would more clearly define a purpose behind my desire to update our downstairs bathroom - the ONE thing Mom said should be the first thing I should get done]

#5 - durable flooring for the laundry room and a compact easy to access space for clothes to hang to dry. That one sounds easy enough and I don't think it would break the bank either. I have simply always wanted a bright, clean and organized laundry room. It is that simple. No need to wish I worked from home to add that to my wish list

#6 - a quick "spiff" of the remaining space downstairs. The playroom from my daycare days; the room without a name or purpose in our current life; a space that could easily be defined as a living space if there was more than two of us living in this massive home. [this space could become an office if I worked from home]

My wish list has revealed my dream. My dream is to work out of my home. I knew this three years ago, when I closed my daycare. I knew that the secret to creating a life where I was semi-sorta retired meant that our home had to work for me. Renting out a floor? Working from home? There must be more possibilities than those two. I need to reactivate my dream gene and open myself up to the possibilities I have not yet thought of.

If I build it, it will come. Perhaps this is where my wish list is leading. It is leading me down the road of possibilities. If I build it, what dreams will come?

Waking Up to Life-As-I-Know-It

You know you have been watching too much TV when the characters within the dramas you are following infiltrate your dreams.

I woke up to a vivid dream this morning. It was a dream. It was only a dream.

The world was coming to an end. I was in a house which was on a beach. Unexplainable and unusual things were happening. 

I was told to get Dr. Shaun Murphy [The Good Doctor] for some medical emergency. But someone said he is dead. I go to him anyway. He is alive and jumps out of bed to help ...

People were being gobbled up by something coming from the ocean and/or air. It was a dream. Details are weird. An orca was washed up on shore. The world was ending.

I was suddenly back in my own home, running around closing the blinds. Yes, closing the blinds will definitely help the situation. As I'm racing around the house, someone says, "We are out of milk" and we have all of Meredith Grey's children [Grey's Anatomy] to feed. 

I woke up. In my own bed. The world was exactly how I left it when I drifted off to sleep last night. Except ... the election results had been tallied up while I slept.

Immediately I checked the election results. From what I understand, the Liberals are still in power, with a minority government and the Conservatives came in very strong.

I don't understand politics. I think our world is just fine and we weathered yesterday's election well enough.

And ... we aren't out of milk. All is well in the world. Carry on!

This message is brought to you as a gentle reminder that waking up to life-as-you-knew-it before you drifted off to sleep last night is a blessing like no other.