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(Please, don’t let my) Dreams Come True!

Edward Burne

 “Sleeping Beauty” by Edward Burne-Jones1871

Blog Post #49

I have cuckoo dreams. My nighttime line-up makes Monty Python look like the archetype of sanity and normalcy.

I write down many of my nighttime dreams for two reasons:

  1. I have been told there is hidden meaning in the symbolic nature of my dreams
  2. Such silliness is good for a laugh

My son-in-law, Erik, is my “Dream Interpreter Extraordinaire.” He is quite expert at recognizing and deciphering what he says are obvious metaphorical representations of my psyche. I often approach him with some of my dreams over Sunday dinner, and am always surprised at the accuracy of his interpretations, because they really do ring true with the things I have been feeling—the stresses and issues I have been dealing with. And perhaps that is the point of my dreams, but that doesn’t make them any less weird.

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In my youthful days, the dreams I most remember were recurring dreams associated with illness. When a headache or fever came on, so did one of the recurring nightmarish dreams.

But my dreams took a marked turn for the comedic worse after I married and began to have children. My first memorable episode involved a transparent stomach with bicycle handles sticking out of it. (And the dreams only got worse.)

Here are summaries of a few others:

In my dreams….

… I was alone on a beach, arms outstretched, with an alligator clamped down on the fingers of each of my hands, their bodies dangling down to my sides.

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… I was swinging by my heels from the rigging on the mast of a yacht (and enjoying it).

… I was Elspeth, the fairy Godmother of all.

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… I was standing in the middle of a box-shaped room that had no windows or doors, but that was full of floating peas. I didn’t dare move or the peas would go up my sleeves, or in my shoes, or into my nose, or in my mouth….

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… I was playing a small role as a maid in a play in which I, first, picked up a pile of stapled receipts that Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet were motioning for me to take offstage, next I flew with flair down a zip cord glider, then, (as inconspicuously as possible), I picked up bushels of tiny lemons that had rolled onto the stage.

… I was riding a brake-less bicycle down a steep hill in San Francisco, and was shocked to see—independently hanging in the center of a hole in the sky—the roots and part of the trunk of a gargantuan tree (the top of which rose through the clouds out of view).

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A sketch made in the middle of the night to remember the bizarre dream of a tree emerging through a hole in the sky

… I was trying to get off a modern, streamlined, ship, fatefully named “The Titanic.”

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One of my dreams even had a commercial break!  The commercial was of a cartoonish female skunk paddling the leaf/nut boat she was sitting in. The skunk’s name, I knew, was “Sally Rushkin.” I was certain she was a character from 1950s TV, and I was delighted to see her appear on the TV screen of my dream. I awoke from the dream during the middle of the night, and got up to draw a picture of Sally Rushkin, so I could look her up in the morning. I was completely surprised to discover there was no such character as Sally Rushkin in existence!

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Sally Rushkin  —  middle-of-the-night sketch 

These are just a few of the volumes of dreams I remember having dreamed over my lifetime. I often wonder about those I’ve forgotten. I suspect that, in this case, forgetting was a good thing.

It’s interesting that we live in an era when the stuff “dreams” are made of—princesses, superheroes, pirates, magical creatures, aliens, futuristic space, shires, ball-parks in corn fields, and make-believe worlds that children and adults alike get lost in are present in all but every waking hour of our lives. Images from these kinds of dreams are worn on costumes, T-shirts, tennis shoes, and backpacks, and appear in a wide variety of merchandise. You can’t escape this stuff—from cereal boxes to phone cases, from nightgowns to music lyrics, at theme parks, in films, and on the pages of storybooks—people, places and things attributed to the fantastic world of dreams are everywhere.

The phrase “dreams come true” has become commonplace, characterized as a happy idea, filled with immeasurable promise of fairy dust, adventure, and the Force.

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But when I look at MY dreams, I am struck by the contradiction. I don’t want my dreams to come true. Honestly, I don’t! It’s enough to experience such surreal, terrifying, silly, nonsensical, weird, abstract foolishness while sleeping at night! So often, it’s a blessing and a relief to wake up before the dream (or sometimes, nightmare) ends. If, in fact, my dreams are a metaphorical representation of some truth about my life that my subconscious mind is trying to let go of, to solve, or to find some resolution for, then I certainly don’t want to face those kinds of issues in such bizarre ways during my waking hours, too!

In fact, I love, yes, LOVE, the stable, predictable, routine of my life. I love the absolute assurance that zombies will not arise in apocalyptic rebellion, that I won’t awake to find spacecraft the size of Rhode Island hovering in the sky over my house, that flying dragons aren’t going to torch our neighborhood, that the stairs I climb aren’t going to, suddenly, move or change direction of their own accord, and that there aren’t ogres, orcs or other horrible demons lurking in our National Parks, or skirting the freeways we frequently travel! Surely, in real life, mankind has already assumed the roles, or created the equal, to most of these nightmares. I don’t wish for my cuckoo dreams to come true, and add to the craziness, and for that matter, I don’t wish for anyone else’s dreams (or nightmares) either!

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I have loved the dream of a dream as much as anyone! I have wished on stars, and at wishing wells. I have hoped for fairy tale endings, and for magical moments in my life. I will always have a tender spot in my heart for the idea of magic and fairy tales. But I prefer they remain in the “dream world” of storybooks and imagination, and not become part of my reality.

We should take great care in what we wish for, because sometimes what we wish for we get.

As I was contemplating my kooky dreams this morning, I felt immense gratitude for true “magic,” which is not nearly as enchantingly magical in imagination as it is in real life.

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My newest granddaughter. A sweet miracle.

My tiny, new granddaughter is a miracle of creation. Wondering about the sphere she left behind to come to earth, the intricate beauty of her tiny little fingers and toes, her beating heart, downy soft skin, the scent of newness in the small of her neck, her spirit awakening to earth life and the immediate and unconditional love of family—are these not magical?

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My granddaughter and her newborn son. Heaven on earth.

Walking a shady wooded area with my eldest daughter, the sunshine beating down from high in the heavens, warming our hearts and our shoulders from the chill in the air, birds dipping and soaring overhead, the bright blue blossoms off the side of the path that had sprung into existence, bringing us joy—are these not wonders and mysteries?

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Walking a peaceful trail at Oak Glen with my daughter, Thalia

The laughter of children, the hugs and greatness of their love, the joy beaming from their faces, the potential brimming in their souls—are these not dreams that have come true, or are worthy of coming true?

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Our son, Jesse, and his twin daughters.  Unbounded Joy!

Even though I love Disney movies, when I think about the lyrics from Disney’s original animated movie “Cinderella”…

“A dream is a wish your heart makes when you’re fast asleep…”

…I hope with all my heart that those words will never be true of the vast majority of my nighttime dreams!

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“Dreamers” by Albert Joseph Moore

The hopes, dreams, and aspirations of my waking, daylight hours are much more charming, enduring, worthwhile, real, and hopeful than anything I’ve experienced in my sleep. Born of beauty, knowledge, joy, and a clear vision of life, and brightened by the promise of Eternal Truths and Saving Grace, my “dreams” for the future and beyond subdue and trample those less worthily conjured by a reckless imagination at night.

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Baby Blue Eyes – the delightful  blossoms we spied just off our path

I choose to place my hope and dreams in promises such as this:

“Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him.”

1 Corinthians 2:9

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End Piece

©April 7, 2017

From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, dear friends, for reading.

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Planting Apples Trees (A Veteran’s Day Offering)

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Blog Post #46

On this Veteran’s Day I ask the question: What is greatness?

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When I think about what makes someone great, I can’t help but think about planting apple trees. *John Chapman, AKA “Johnny Appleseed,”was the son of a Minuteman who fought at the Battle of Bunker (Breed’s) Hill. Chapman spent a lifetime planting and cultivating a tart variety of apples, called “spitters,” (because that’s what you’d do if you bit into one), but which made good cider. He purchased lands to homestead, planted fifty acres of trees on a parcel, then sold the land to settlers throughout Pennsylvania, Ohio and Illinois. His travels took him over 100,000 square miles of wilderness, and by the time he died, he owned 1200 acres. Avid in his Swedenborg faith, he remained unmarried and chaste throughout his life, and was an advocate for all animal life.

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Apple Cultivars “Spitters”

It wasn’t in the planting of trees, or the harvesting of apples, his unusual rustic garb, or his travels that made Johnny Appleseed great. I believe his greatness was in his unselfish labors, in planting something good for others to enjoy at some future time (rather than hoarding the fruits of his effort for himself). The backbreaking work of clearing land, preparing, planting, and cultivating fruit-bearing trees was not a passive hobby. It required sweat and toil. It was a labor of love and a selfless sacrifice. That’s why I think of his planting of apple trees as greatness. When someone plants an apple tree, knowing they will not benefit from its shade, fruit, or beauty, that’s selflessness, and selflessness for the good of others is greatness.

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Those who serve our country know what it means to give selfless service. They often sacrifice family, health, convenience, personal time, and the fruits they may have planted in their homeland of America, leaving a bounty of the blessings of preserved freedoms for those at home to enjoy while they labor on foreign soil.

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My father, Joe Culotta, is at front left.

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My Uncle Albert Mascari is standing 4th from the left

My father’s generation—the World War II generation— was truly great. Most of their generation understood and strived to live lives of decency, courage, self-sacrifice, self-mastery, and fortitude. They laid their lives on the line for the good of their families and others, for the good of their nation, and for the good of the world. Many, like my father, stepped forward and volunteered to serve before the draft. They saw a need and rose to the occasion without coercion or intimidation. They gave all for their beliefs, and for a love of liberty, and they did it without complaining or whining.  They were a willing and hard-working generation, and they did so honestly and with humility.  Sure, there are those who bucked this standard, but they were comparatively few.

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My mother, Veneta Mascari, was asked by Henrite Product Corporation to join the war effort working as a draftswoman in 1944

Those of that generation who remained at home were great, too. They worked for the USO, and stocked the garners of liberty with their offerings, doing what they could: newspaper drives, rubber drives, sewing, cooking, entertaining troops, and giving what they had to give. My mother wrote to servicemen, and worked as a draftswoman for the war effort. These folks had love of country branded in their hearts, and that patriotism appeared in their music, movies, conversations, billboards, and by their home fires.

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Yes, there were evil folks in that generation, too. Yes, there were those who were lazy, self-serving and contemptible, and no, I’m not suggesting that their generation alone cornered the market on that which was great. There are many great men and women from generations prior to theirs, as well as after, and also today. There is much good in the world today.  While we are bombarded with the notion that society, in general, is tipping the scale in a direction away from decency and selflessness toward incivility and self-gratification, and there does appear to be more concern about who is “wrong” than what is right….And though the banks of meaningful conversation are overrun by a glib texting of words and tweets, and an inability to listen to or value what is precious to another, or to find the common ground that unites us as a people, and as members of humanity….And even if much of what we see and hear casts the pendulum as swinging away from civility…. Even though it is possible, even probable, that all of this is rooted in truth, I look around at my neighborhood, and am grateful to see an overwhelmingly quiet, industrious, respectful and generous body of people. These are good people who care about each other, and perform quiet acts of service for neighbors – neighbors they didn’t choose, but have embraced.

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We have neighbors who took the trouble to build a counter on which they freely give away lemons and limes in season.We have neighbors who bring us delicious persimmons, peaches, and plums – sharing their bounty with others. We have neighbors who create marvelous light displays for others to enjoy during the holidays. We have neighbors who overwhelmed us with their kindness when death reached our doors. We have neighbors who anonymously leave flowers, notes, and gifts on our doorstep. We have neighbors who take in our mail, and return our garbage cans without our asking. We have neighbors who are decent, kind and serve others. We have “great” neighbors; we have “Johnny Appleseed” sorts of neighbors. I hope we may be found in every way equal to our neighbors in these selfless acts of  goodness.

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9-11 “Tribute in Light” Memorial

We are all the same, really. From my perspective, 9-11 gave proof of that. When 9-11 happened, for a small moment in time, the people of America laid aside personal biases and agendas, and became one in charity and in patriotism – linking arms, hearts, and minds to comfort the downtrodden, provide aide to the suffering, and preserve what was most dear to us all.  For a moment, we as a unified nation assumed the attributes of the greatest generation.  In most scenarios, we saw others the way we saw ourselves – vulnerable, hopeful, and in many ways, equal. We cared about each other because someone from without was threatening our way of life and our very lives in a very real and tangible way.

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Abraham Lincoln

In Abraham Lincoln’s famous Address, which he delivered to the Young Men’s Lyceum of Springfield, Illinois on January 27, 1838, titled “The Perpetuation of Our Political Institutions” he said these words:

“Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant to step the ocean and crush us at a blow? Never! All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest, with a Bonaparte for a commander, could not by force take a drink from the Ohio or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a trial of a thousand years. At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer. If it ever reach us it must spring up amongst us; it cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen we must live through all time or die by suicide.”

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Daguerreotype of Abraham Lincoln taken in 1846

During the 1858 Senatorial campaign, Lincoln also said:

“Our defense is in the preservation of the spirit which prizes liberty as a heritage of all men, in all lands, everywhere. Destroy this spirit and you have planted the seeds of despotism around your own doors.”

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Believed to be the last known surviving apple tree planted in Nova, Ohio by John Chapman 

It’s not too late to plant apple trees instead of “the seeds of despotism” for the next generation…to leave a positive legacy for our children – for our posterity – of hope that feeds the body and soul with the fruit of goodness, kindness, truthfulness, respect, tolerance, faith, and love. It’s not too late to live for others.

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“John Chapman: He lived for others.” 1774-1845  (What a great epithet!)

“Surely God would not have created such a being as man, with an ability to grasp the infinite, to exist only for a day! No, no, man was made for immortality.” (Abraham Lincoln, 1858 Senatorial campaign)

End Piece

© November 11, 2016

From the bottom of my heart, I thank you, dear friends, for reading.