Very, very late last night, when all was still and quiet, I sat down to write my deepest dreams list. I think the task was a combination of very exciting mixed with a touch of fear so I found a way to put it off. I remembered our golden retriever had to go out so I took him for a late walk in the thick snow. It was outside in the crisp and silent stillness that I allowed myself to go to that place where deepest dreams were stored, and often stuffed.
When we came back in I was ready to write. The wishes, the dreams flooded my journal page. No surprises. Well, there was one big surprise that I never knew I wanted. Was that a real dream or just an impulse?
I crawled in bed with my five-year-old and spooned up so close we had no gaps. She said "Hi Mommy" in a very clear voice, but I knew she was practically sleep talking. "Can I tell you my deepest dreams?" I asked her. "Yes, Mommy" she replied. I slowly, calmly recounted my dreams, one by one. I think she drifted off to sleep when I was describing where I want to live, but I am not sure. Maybe she is carrying all of her Mommy's dreams inside her soul along with like me.
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