Make Your Dreams Come True

I have strange dreams. Strange enough that my father asked me to stop telling him about them, which seems like a waste of a perfectly good in-house therapist, but I get it. My subconscious can be a rather psychotic place, and it can't be entirely pleasant to know exactly how crazy your daughter is. So now I just write them all down in a notebook I keep next to my bed.

They've been really vivid lately, incredibly real. And very clear when I wake up, which is fairly common when I don't sleep in my own bed, but it's been happening regardless of where I find myself at the end of the night. Like, last night, where I fell asleep in my own bed watching 'Sons of Anarchy', with Baylor tucked into the crook behind my knees (he insists he can fit there). Overnight I dreamt about taking pictures of a multi-colored house in JP (a house that actually exists, albeit with a calmer palette) and coming home to read 'The Bippolo Seed', a collection of lost Dr. Seuss stories (that is real, and that I own). The only part of the book I read in the dream was the dedication, on the back cover page.

It was so real, that when I woke up, I checked the back of the book to see if that was, in fact, the actual dedication. Of course it wasn't, this book isn't dedicated to anyone, it's a posthumous collection of lost stories, silly faces, but I liked it so much, I wrote it in anyways. It went like this:

"This book is for Sandy and Paul, who love each other very much. Or would have, had they ever met. I knew Paul for years and years and years; everytime I saw him, I told him how much I loved how much he loved Sandy. Or would love, were they ever to meet. But then Sandy got sick. So they never met. But this is still for Sandy and Paul. Who love each other very much."

And it made me want to say: for anyone reading, now, or in the future, to anyone reading: I love you very much. If we haven't talked in years, if we talked yesterday, if we haven't met yet, if we'll never meet: I love you very much.