Dreamy Meme

Time, I think, for my second meme of the week as promised (with an appropriate gap to allow for meme overload black hole blog implosions).

Sandy Calico tagged me in a beautiful Dream Meme, started by Zooarcheaologist (who’s blog I have only JUST discovered – how slow am I?!). It’s simple… share a dream. And since I had some free writing to do for my OU course tonight I thought I would just combine the two.

So here goes. My dream…

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I open my eyes. It is half light, the early morning sunshine shifting through the linen curtains, making patterns on the multi-coloured quilt. Ant is fast asleep, as is the small, peaceful form of my baby daughter in her crib by our bed. The quiet sounds of their breathing overlap, creating one soft sound.

I shift my head to look at the clock. 6.00am. Time for up.

I swing my legs round from under the quilt and my feet sink into the the thick, soft pile of the carpet, padding quietly over to retrieve my dressing gown from the door and tiptoe out of the room. Down the long corridor, passing open doorways with rooms of peaceful space, gentle light and fresh flowers.  I pause at the half open door that sports the enthusiastically scribbled Keep Out! sign with skull and cross bone warning, tentatively poking my head around. It is Kai’s room. A tousled blond mop peeps out from under a mass of tangled duvet, one smooth foot hanging lopsided over the edge of the mattress.

All is still. I smile and continue on my way.

Down the curving stair case, hand on the old wooden banister, half-skipping as I always have down stairs, ever since I was girl, resisting the urge to slide my way down. Within ten minutes I am seated at my desk, a mug of steaming hot tea in front of me, my laptop open and I am writing. The fire crackles softly, taking the chill off the fresh spring morning that I have let in through the large open window. The sound of the sea washing over the large cluttered room, the shelves of books and papers and toys nestled comfortingly next to each other to keep warm. Words flow from my finger tips, creating worlds upon worlds, stories of magic and wonder and dark mysteries.

I pause, now and then to look up and out at the view through the window in front of me. Watching the colours of the sea turn from grey to blue to green and swirling back to grey again in the gradually emerging light, white flecked as it breaks on the sandy beach I can spy over the low fence at the bottom of my garden. Chickens cluck companionably, scratching at the dry earth. Our tortoiseshell cat watching lazily from his vantage point of the windowsill, his tail flicking. Before the story and the magnetic pull of the words on the screen draw me and back and in and under…

Massaging my forehead with my fingertips, I stop and look up, pleased with my morning’s work, an hour having passed me by without me even noticing. My eyes come to rest on the letter on my desk, half hidden under a pile of tattered and bulging notebooks. It is the publisher’s letter of acceptance for my latest novel, the zero’s of my advance fee making me blink again in disbelief, making me read it all over again from the start. As I read the glowing words I half expect it to morph into the once familiar “Thank you for your submission Mrs George, but…” that would once make me retreat to the darkness of my duvet for days at a time. But it does not.

Underneath crowd other letters. Offers from magazines for features and guest writing opportunities, notifications of nominations for awards and book signing schedules. My fingers pinch the skin on my arm tentatively. It is real. I am awake. This is my life now.

Suddenly I hear a run of eager footsteps on the steps and the door opens in a rush and blur of motion and arms and legs as Kai throws himself into my lap to kiss me good morning before quickly pulling away and scooping up the huge quilt I made last winter from the soft, leather sofa and making a nest for himself on the floor in front of the fire to play. Filling my quietness with chatter and dramatic sound effects as dinosaurs battle pirates in a complicated attack on the hearth rug. I shut the laptop to sit and watch him play, sipping at my second cup of tea and remembering the time when my strong, tireless, curious boy was still a fidgety, uncompromising babe in arms and all the many adventures that have led us to this point. Difficulties and struggles forgotten in the simple, pure love and fierce pride I feel for this complex child of mine, of my bone and blood and temperament.

Before long I can hear the sound of movement upstairs and the giggles and play of Kai’s sister and their father as they wake up for the day. I contemplate the day ahead – a long, lazy Saturday filled with time together and leisurely breakfasts and long walks along the sand. I have never felt more alive, more connected, more complete as I do right now in this moment. Kai looks up at me with a grin and I smile.

Could life be any more perfect, I wonder?

No. I don’t think it could.

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So that’s my dream. What’s yours…?

Rachel at Life Slightly Used

Sylvie at There’s a NIP in the air

Ellen at World of a Mummy

The Mad House

Laura at Are We Nearly There Yet Mummy?

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