The stuff that dreams are made of … sleep-dreams, that is. Some people dream in color; some fall to sleep and then dream they are flying, or so I’ve heard. Wow! Well, I don’t recall ever having one dream in color or flying in my sleep. Unless I only fly during dreams I’ll never remember because I only recall dreams I have as I am waking up.
This morning I was dreaming that as part of my ‘back recovery’ program my physical therapist made a home visit to examine my closet and dressers. She swiped her ant-detecting device around the surface of my antique highboy dresser and the device ‘beeped.’ Sure enough, there was a stream of ants marching up the back of the dresser and then disappearing into a large crack. She wrestled a cock-eyed middle drawer open and I grabbed her arm to restrain her, exclaiming, “Hey, I don’t open these drawers!” Out of the drawer she jerked an over-sized dark-blue faded sweatshirt with a burn hole in the shoulder and tossed it on my lap. “Shouldn’t you get rid of this?” she hissed, as she began tossing clothes onto my lap that I hadn’t seen in years.
Then I woke up. The thought plagued me for the first hour of my day…”Okay, so I need to clean out my closets!” Which I do … I have a butt-load of old stuff (and some of it is new stuff) I don’t wear. And the stuff gets in the way, like a bunch of hanging corpses, when I’m sorting through the hangers in my closet trying to find something I do wear.
If I can dream that my physical therapist is making home visits, why can’t I also dream that she is exercising with me rigorously right as I’m waking up? Or even that I am exercising rigorously all by myself? Then I might possibly wake up feeling fit and ready to roll with EXERCISE! on my mind, instead of with my overstuffed, disorganized, cobwebby closets on my mind (as well as all the numerous other storage places in our house crammed to the gills, cobwebby, and quite possibly infested with ants).
Wouldn’t it be nice to fall asleep and fly through the blue air, gazing over the wondrous landscape as I rise to rest on pink cottony clouds. Then soar through warm purple mists that caress my face before finding my way back again. I would awaken with my head nestled gently on my pillow, ready to begin my day, my body kissed by the universe.
Not in my dreams! I must have a fear of flying in my sleep state. Well, I do know that in my awake state I have a fear of cleaning out storage areas – there are just so many of them in our house, so crammed with stuff that to start the project could launch me into a black hole out of which I might never return.
Tags: Dreams
The Decompression of a Boomer 
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