Dream a little dream and don’t forget to move your feet and plant your garden

by Lorin Michel Friday, June 16, 2017 10:45 PM

Dreams are fascinating, aren’t they? I am continually amazed at what the subconscious brain can do, the tales it can weave, the possibilities it can create, the horrors it can craft. I’m also amazed that what can seem so vivid and real and thrilling, can also evaporate in moments.

Such is the stuff of dreams.

I was watching Riley this afternoon. He was sleeping in my office as he so often is in the afternoon. His head was against the French door that leads out onto my deck. He likes to have his head against things when he sleeps, and if not his head, sometimes his whole body. His bed is in a corner of our bedroom. Two sides are against the wall. It’s how he likes it. I think it makes him feel safe.

I heard an odd noise and looked over at him. His eyes were fluttering, his tail kept raising and lowering. His back legs twitched and started, awkwardly. His front paws pawed the air. He sighed. He snarled. He hiccupped. He was dreaming. It lasted for only a few minutes – dogs never seem to dream for long. Then his feet stopped and his eyes opened. He sighed, then closed them again. Must have been a good one. 

Maguire didn’t dream a lot. Cooper was an avid dreamer but his dreams seemed to be more violent. He always seemed to be in distress, his feet moving so fast, as if he was trying to escape something. It broke our hearts to watch him sometimes, even though we understood it. He’d had a tough life before us. We don’t know all of the situations he was in, but we do know that he was passed around a lot, that no one wanted him until we did. Oh, did we want him.

Riley was surrendered. That’s what they call it in rescue land. Owners who no longer want their dogs for whatever reason turn them in rather than do something horrible. Too many people do too many horrible things to their pets, to their children, to other people. Riley was 15 months old when surrendered. He has issues, some of which we attribute to him being a golden retriever, some of which we attribute to things that happened to him in his first months of life. But he is coming around. And his dreams are rarely violent or scary. I like to think his dreams are of chasing deer across the desert, or rabbits, or lizards; of belly rubs; of cookies.

When Kevin and I woke up this morning, he looked at me with his morning eyes and proceeded to tell me about the dream loop he was caught up in that involved Gisele Bundchen. Now other wives might not appreciate being told first thing in the morning that their husband was dreaming of one of the world’s biggest (now retired) super models. Especially not when said wife’s hair is going all over the place and she hasn’t yet brushed her teeth. But I just laughed.

His dream about Gisele wasn’t what other men’s dreams of Gisele are. No, his dream had to do with a garden and whether she grew her own vegetables, if she dug her hands in the dirt, if Tom (Brady, her husband) helped. Over and over and over he dreamed and wondered and then Riley came over to his side of the bed. Time to get up, dad.

Where do these things come from? Who knows. But it sure is fun to dream a little dream and celebrate the fascinating weirdness of it all. Isn’t it?

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