I am the Dreamer and the Killer of Dreams

I’m drawn to details. When I sit on the porch, I like to watch the insects emerge from the fallen leaves. When I dream and draw, I sketch small, intricate things. I love botanical drawings and Maurice Sendak etchings. I don’t really sew, but once I tried my hand at making a quilt. Each square was a different flower, small pieces of silk cut out, arranged by pins, and meticulously hand sewn, petal by petal, to make a poppy or a heavenly blue morning glory.

I remember song lyrics too, sometimes down to the preposition. My husband never gets them right. He’ll start singing:

“Everybody’s talkin’ about me …”

I mutter from the kitchen “at”.

“What?” he asks, “Did you say something?”

“At” I reply, “It’s ‘Everybody’s talkin’ at me”.

It drives me crazy, but he thinks it’s funny. Humor is the salve that can heal all wounds, but only if you’re laughing too. I need to lighten up sometimes.

Like today. I was the opposite of light—a heavy dark troll that wanted to kill Christmas and drink its blood in big sloppy troll slurps. Bah humbug a million times over. Thanks, sweet Scrooge! I don’t know what had gotten into me. I usually can’t wait for this time of year: the lights, the carols, making cards, seeing friends, decorating the tree. I LOVE decorating the Christmas tree. We have a hodgepodge of ornaments, some from childhood, some given as Christmas presents, glittery things that Harry made, pictures, colorful string—anything that is meaningful (and shiny) goes on the tree.

Today I couldn’t have cared less. When I passed the pathetic fake tree with its little squeaky lights in Welch this morning, I think I actually said “Jesus Christ!” out loud in disgust.

I’ve been impossible to live with. When my husband suggested we go see The Invincible Czars do “The Nutcracker”, I pulled out my long detailed list of things we had to do that day to get ready for the next week.

“Harry has to finish his home project by tomorrow we need to get groceries there’s no food in the house I haven’t done any Christmas shopping yet and then there’s his birthday party next Saturday I hope it’s not too late to order the cake …”

Well, guess what? I ruined that afternoon!

I, the Dream Killer, was in this state of mind driving home from the University. But then I saw a dirty dusty car with this drawn on the back window:

It was so juvenile and enthusiastic, kind of sweet really. I laughed so hard, but I didn’t look at the driver. I wanted to preserve the picture in my mind of ebullient youth, reckless, happy, and free. If the driver turned out to be an unshaven old man, I would have been crushed.

So now, I’m kind of excited again about Christmas. Hopeful even. You never know what the Guardian of the Universe, whoever you are, is going to throw your way, but today I’m grateful for whatever works.