Catching dreams

On the first wintry day of the season frost crisps the landscape.  My breath billows in clouds of white.  The sun is honey, oozing through the heart of the cherry tree and turning the last of the leaves to gold.  It is a moment of between, when the earth makes me pause.  The chill shivers the leaves from the trees.  I can hear them falling.  They crackle like flames as they detach and float to the ground.  The fire is a cold one, but I feel as though I’m standing in its heart: the crackling is everywhere, the air is gold and a blackbird trills.  It is a precious, dreamlike morning.  There won’t be another one like it this season.

I sometimes dream of searching for places that don’t exist. I dream that behind the field at my aunt’s is a path that leads to a group of small ponds I’m desperate to get to. On the way,  a seahenge has been revealed on the shore, covered in light snow.  I never find the ponds. I’ve searched for them before without success.  I can picture myself bathing there, yet I only remember their existence in dreams.  When I wake I struggle to recall whether they are real or not and I grieve for their loss.

The leaves are moist and turning to mulch now.  They no longer glint with gold but have browned and darkened.  They are fodder for the dreams of worms and woodlice.  But the remains of gold still cling to the trees, like sheets of gilding.  Willows dip long tresses of yellowed leaves into a pond crowded with birds.  A man is feeding the ducks.  Black headed gulls screech and dive.  Moorhens peck the shore.  Three swans sail among them like a vision: a pair and their cygnet.  The cygnet is bigger than its parents, snowy feathers offset by soft beige.  I walk past yellowing reeds and bright berries, the last of the season’s lights.  I look up at the moment two swans soar over, softly whooping as they fly.

I have been recording my dreams again.  It is one way of confronting the darkness and what lies within it.  Some are slippery, some never ending.  Creatures flit through them: barn owl and crow, polar bears and bison, and a strange hybrid of mole and teddy bear that clutches my fingers with tiny pink hands.  In dreams I am myself and not myself.  Sometimes I begin as me but become someone else.  My dreams are mostly prosaic: processing real events and populated with people I know.  But among the ordinary are those moments when I wonder if I really have visited another place and brought a little of its enchantment back with me.

Blogger book of the month: Pamela S. Wight – Molly Finds her Purr

illustrated children's book, picture book, cat bookPam’s blog RoughWighting is full of funny, intriguing and quirky stories both fictional and true.  She has a fellow Piscean’s knack for visiting other worlds and bringing back a little of their magic.  Pam has written two exciting and enjoyable romantic thrillers for adults and another children’s picture book, Birds of Paradise but today it is Molly’s turn to step into the limelight.  In Pam’s newest book, Molly Finds Her Purr,  Molly is a stray cat who doesn’t know how to purr. Birds run away from her, dogs bark and squirrels bombard her with acorns. She tries her best to find a playmate, but it seems she’s destined to be lonely – it’s no wonder Molly doesn’t know how to purr! But then a squirrel called Petey takes a chance on friendship and Molly soon has a whole circle of friends around her. It isn’t long before she finds her purr. A heart-warming, comforting and gentle book, with beautiful illustrations, Molly introduces themes of difference and friendship in a lovely way for young readers.  A great Christmas gift for a child in your life!  You can find Pam here and her books are available at Amazon.

78 thoughts on “Catching dreams

  1. I love the gentle melancholy of this posting. Winston is looking quite dashing with his lead. You do weave your dreams thought the narrative in a beguiling manner. It’s interesting how we humans are drawn to transitions of the natural worlds: dawn/dusk, merging of the seasons. We seem to have Tre trouble with life transitions. I love the premise and the delicate drawings of Molly Finds Her Purr.

    Happy Holidays, pat


  2. Oooh, how wonderful to visit another place in your dreams and bring back some of its enchantment.
    Do you do that when you are writing? Do you write to visit another place?
    I certainly paint to be in colourworld.


  3. Beautiful writing, Andrea! Dreams do take one to strange places, don’t they? Some seem far beyond the normal processing of the day’s events, and I wonder where I have been.

    Thank you to the introduction to Pam Wight. “Molly Finds Her Purr” sounds like a lovely book.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Andrea, your post is wonderful. The first part rings like a poem although
    you haven’t used any obvious form of such. So dreamy as beautiful you
    describe nature around you, down to the last leaf and its sound.

    Your dreams are quite magic, maybe you have been to the these ponds or
    they will reveal something else. I feel like being in the dream.

    Pamela’s children’s book sounds so enticing and I wish it and Pamela happiness.


    Liked by 1 person

  5. Winston is looking dapper amongst the autumn leaves, he naturally wears tweed. 🙂
    Lovely prose, Andrea, I always feel like I am right there strolling along beside you.
    Isn’t it interesting that our dreams offer so much fodder for wonderment? I often dream I am on holiday, a bit lost, but exploring, trying to find my way back to my people and abode. I sometimes wonder what they mean, probably figments of past memories wound together.


  6. We are certainly fellow Pisceans, dreaming into new worlds and “other worlds,” and even better, seeing gold glint and snow sparkle in the worlds we live in, in the here and now. Here, in my Boston world, the snow has been flying (and landing) for almost 24 hours, and more to come. As I look out my window I see a winter wonderland, and I imagine elves playing and prancing in the snowy piles of left-over leaves. And oh my gosh, there’s Winston, jumping through the snow piles with the elves. The snow comes above Winston’s nose, so he has to jump high!
    I love your imagination and your dreamy poetic prose, Andrea. And I love that you featured Molly and her Purr here on your blog. I’m immensely honored.


  7. Beautiful descriptions, as always! I love the idea of recording dreams, something I have done off and on for many years. That journey of exploring dreams can open up to so many interesting speculations and memories.


  8. Beautiful prose, Andrea; rather melancholy and dreamlike. I hardly ever remember my dreams; they usually evaporate as I wake.
    Thank you for the review of Pam’s lovely book – I wish her success with it.


  9. Beautiful descriptions of nature transitioning from fall to winter. Your musings on dreams are fascinating – like dreams seem real and unreal at the same time. Lately many my dreams are about a small number of people I do not know. I never remember what we were doing but it was collegial. When I have a bad dream I wake up under a cloud.


  10. You seem to be a deep and complex dreamer Andrea. I’d be interested to see how you get on analyzing them. I very rarely remember mine, and certainly not in the detail you recall yours.


  11. Very interesting post, Andrea. My husband recalls his dreams in detail, and I envy that talent when I have good dreams. Bad ones, not so much. Congrats to Pamela. It sounds like a lovely book indeed.


  12. Andrea, I love hearing about your dreams. Wonderful post and your descriptions are always so lovely. Animal dreams are the best. I dream prolifically and often, and have kept a dream journal for close to 25 years. I used to have a recurring dream for years about travelling to a place that I wanted so desperately to be at in my dream. When I would awake, I could never place where it was, although in my dream I knew it intimately. I worked with it a lot and finally discovered what the meaning was. I wrote about it. Dreams fascinate me.


  13. Andrea, there is no one like you who can reach into the heart of nature, the seasons, making them your own, weaving your emotions into every leaf, bird trill. Glorious writing. As for your dreams … I’m in awe you can record them. I tried once and it ‘freaked’ me out and stopped me sleeping altogether!

    Ahh … how lovely to see Pam’s dearest book reviewed here. You capture its spirit beautifully and I love the premise of the story and its gentle teachings. 😀


  14. Wonderful roam through autumn and your dreams. I so relate to grieving what felt so real. Your dreams sound very vivid, the sign of a very creative mind which is our good fortune to read.


  15. Fascinating, remembering places that may or may not exist. I love that, it’s a whole story in itself. Wonderful writing as always, your capturing of the passing days is perfect.


  16. Pingback: Catching dreams ~ Andrea Stephenson | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

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