Star Light Dreams

I have some of the most delightful dreams sometimes. (I have some of the others, too, of course).

I dream about riding a Unicorn through a field of wildflowers. I dream about riding a Pegasus through fluffy clouds of cotton candy.

I dream of transforming from my current self into a flowing being of light, of energy, of rainbows. Then I swirl and twirl like a gentle tornado from place to place leaving a trail of sparkly, glittery, happy dust in my wake.

I call those my "Light" dreams.

I have more ordinary dreams where I am riding a more realistic horse through grassy meadows in the sunshine. If you are sensing a theme in the riding dreams, you are not mistaken in that.

I have dreams where I am unpacking boxes in a new place and deciding where I want to put things. This is both a sleeping dream and a waking dream.

I moved around a lot (a LOT) when I was a kid and later as a teen and later yet as a young adult. So moving is not new to me.

However, I have lived in the same town, in the same state, in the same house even, for decades now. It's a shock to me to say that, yet it is true.

What's bizarre for me is that I really dislike the state I live in and have lived in for so long.

The town I live in has become a city and is growing more and I do not like that at all.

I dislike the terrain - it is desert and I have no passion for the desert at all. It's not picturesque desert either, with the 3 armed cactus and painted rock formations. It's ugly sagebrush. It's high desert. That means it's cold and snowy in the winter and hotter than a pancake griddle in the summer. It means water is a coveted thing.

And then there is the politics of this state. I won't get into it in any depth, that's not what this blog is about. Suffice it to say that I tend to only agree with about a quarter of what they try to shove in our face.

This makes me hanker towards moving. All these things combined cause me to dream of unpacking boxes in another environment.

But (and here comes the big butt)....

I have lived here so darn long and have made this my home. This is an old house. Really old. It has been added on to, remodeled, redone, adjusted, and refurnished to become the home of my liking. You might even say the home of my dreams.

The thought of packing up decades worth of hoarding and trying to move it is enough, all by itself, to deter ideas of hitting the big road.

Where to go is easy. Or so I thought. Until I get 'real' about it. Then I begin to realize I would miss what I have established here. I would miss all the sunshine. Yes, it's desert and I am not at all fond of desert terrain (not this kind anyway) but I love all the sunshine.

Sure, it gets too hot to be out in it in the summertime so how can I enjoy it? Easy. The sun rays pouring in through the windows and the realization that the alternative is fog, mist, rain and a whole bunch of gray. Gray, gray, gray. That makes it real easy.

So there stands my inner argument and my dreams of new horizons being just that, dreams.

Why did the chair wobble?

It couldn’t stand itself.