Only In My Dreams

Waves At Little River Beach

I’d like to tell you a Dominic story before I go into my blog rant. 

Sue &.Dominic

Sue Reading the Paper With Dominic

This story occurred at the Dancing Goat. It’s a wonderful place to buy food and beverages. While Sue and Dominic waited outside, I went inside and bought some treats. I then carried the goodies to the picnic table where Sue and Dominic were waiting. 

An Interesting Rock

There were other people at another picnic table about forty feet away. They enjoyed watching us trying to keep our darling dog off the table top while we also were trying to untangle his leash.

Dominic Playing Fetch

Finally he settled down under the picnic table and was nice and quiet so that we could eat and drink and make merry.

Suddenly we heard a voice. “Excuse me. Your cute dog is over here.”
Well that was gobsmacking because Sue had the red leash in her hand.

​However when she pulled it up from under the table, we found that there was no Dominic attached to it. Only a broken piece of string without a hook. The hook was over at the other people’s picnic table along with Dominic. He was having a nice visit.            

There are times when I hear or watch the news, when   I think of lining my television, my computer, my telephone and my cell phone up against the wall and blasting them with four rounds of number five shot. 

​Some of the politicians make me gag. Their words make me feel as if I’ve binge watched two hundred hours of a show called “Un-truth And No Consequences”.

“ It is said that, in the very early days, lying was a capital offence among us. Believing that the deliberate liar is capable of committing any crime behind the screen of cowardly untruth and double-dealing, the destroyer of mutual confidence was summarily put to death, that the evil might go no further.”
   Charles A. Eastman (Ohiyesa), The Soul of the Indian 

Portrait of a Liar

There is one sentiment that I hear over and over again. It’s, “I’m so glad that I live in Cape Breton.” 

I think that our moving to Cape Breton was one of the best moves we’ve ever made.

​However, like all things in life it comes with some negatives. One of them is that we had to disconnect the geographical ties that help hold family and friends together.

​As I said to one friend in an email, sometimes I think I learn more about what’s going on in some peoples’ lives by listening to my dreams. 

Where Clouds and Water Meet

I remember dreaming that my mother was sick. In the dream it was more like she was sick, but she really wasn’t sick. At that time my mother lived in a seniors home.

Little River Beach

When I walked in I saw that they had put my mother on the stretcher. She was sitting up on the stretcher as they carried her out. 

In the hospital a nurse asked me if she was ambulatory. I said I thought she was. They wanted her to go to the washroom and give them a urine sample.

​I left to find a phone in the main entrance. I phoned my sister and gave her the news.

​When I returned to my mother’s floor I heard a nurse shouting, “We have a runner. We have a runner” Guess who that was?

Sun Hat

Anyway, they released my mother because there wasn’t anything wrong with her.

​Once I dreamt that a friend was angry at me and when I mentioned this dream to his partner, she told me that he really was angry at me and gave the reason why.

Matter Of Interpretation

Another time I had a dream that a man was protecting a grave-site. The next day we were surprised to hear of  the death of a friend.

​Once we stayed overnight with some folks. All night long I dreamt about cats and how sad they were. There were two cats in the place. I found out that the one cat was very sick and that there was a suicide connected to this place.

Out House On Beach

The point is, because of distance and because there have been quite a few instances when my dreams have been rather prescient I occasionally use my dreams as a way of reaching out to people. I will gamble that the dream was onto something. 

View From Blueberry Mountain

Sometimes it’s better if I just said to myself, “mum’s the word.”

​However, if I use an ocean metaphor, I might say that many of our dreams come from the depths of this ocean metaphor while our logic huddles on top of the wee tip of a cork metaphor which is floating on my ocean metaphor. And what’s a metaphor for if it isn’t for being a figure of speech.

---

Night-Fall at Lake O'Law

However, sometimes the worry that I’m losing touch with some folks can make me rash in my communications. For example, they say they will talk to me later and then they don’t get back to me. I then start to feel that the elastic interpersonal friendship band is stretching towards its limit. This emotion gives me a hankering to stir things up. Spice up the discourse and if I’ve had a few brewskis then I sometimes have the courage to do just that.

A Good Dream or a Bad Dream?

I'm Betting. This Will Be A Good Dream

Nevertheless, I’d like to apologize to those friends to whom I’ve miscommunicated. Where I should have gotten at least a two minute penalty for boarding or boring. I’m hoping that those folks will have the grace, or even the Bob, the Mabel, the George or any name that may fit, to forgive me. 

​I guess you could say that my communication became: “A kind of excellent dumb discourse.”
     William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Where I Tuck My Dreams Away

And That's That Folks